I don’t have much faith in the world. In humanity. In our species’ chances of making it another 100 years. I bet previous generations felt the same way. Probably every generation. It doesn’t mean this time it’s wrong. We have a death drive. We want to see our great structures crumble, and be reminded of our smallness. At the same time we want to shit on a toilet while we scroll over an iPad screen, wiping our butts with moist, flushable wipes that are most likely clogging our septic systems, pushing our filth through the semi-solid soil surface. Beneath our feet. Propping us up. Until we all come crashing down, tumbling down the shitty slope of inevitability.