How to Save the World

I’m so great. No, really. While all the rest of you have been busy leading lives of quiet desperation, I’ve been racking the wrinkled meatloaf which conveniently cushions the inside of my cranium, trying to solve all of the problems of the world. And I believe I’ve come up with a viable plan.

The basic problem should be obvious, even to an idiot: Most human beings are idiots. How else can we account for our blind devotion to an unsustainable way of life, a way of life which will clearly result in our own extinction? It’s as if we’ve decided the best place to practice deep breathing exercises is at the bottom of the sea.

Did I say idiots? What I meant was imbeciles.

Every once in a deep blue moon, however, one of us imbeciles can rise above the waterline and become truly inspired. That’s exactly what’s happened to me. The answer? Babies. Lots and lots and lots of babies.

Since it is obvious that none of us nearly seven billion imbeciles can come up with specific solutions to overpopulation, global warming, unsustainable growth, and intractable political and religious differences (not to mention paper cuts, the common cold, and what to eat for dinner tonight), it should be obvious that what we need are more people working on these problems. Thus, babies. Lots and lots and lots of babies. Sooner or later one of them is bound to be the Non-Imbecilic Golden Child who will possess the requisite pep, spunk, and/or gumption to save the rest of us. And God bless him. Or her. Or, possibly, it, as the case may be.

I am so convinced that this is our best, last hope that I would like to see a law passed which would require all women capable of bearing children to do so, as frequently as possible and for as long as possible. Their bodies would, in effect, become property of the state, held under eminent domain for the common good. Those who are sterile or past childbearing age could be used as a source of food for those who are capable of bearing our most precious fruit. Or nut. Or soup, as the case may be.

But why stop there? Does not each and every ovum represent an opportunity for the salvation of our poor, miserable, beleaguered planet? For that matter, does not every single gamete, whether ovum or sperm, represent a potential genetic Powerball? Surely there must be some way we can waste no eggs while, at the same time, achieving parity between eggs and sperm? Think how many chances are dumped in the trash (or washed down the drain, or smeared on the bed sheets, as the case may be), even when one of them does manage to hit the mark. And as for those which do not hit the mark, what could be a more obvious definition of sin itself?

This is clearly an unacceptable situation. What we need to do is, first, cull the male populace by several orders of magnitude. Because so few specimens are required, we may as well hold them in captivity and focus on their virility to the exclusion of all else. Why, after all, bother socializing and educating them, filling their otherwise empty noggins with hopes and dreams about fulfillment and dignity and any number of other irrelevancies? What we need is breeding stock, not volition!

As to the women, apart from harvesting their eggs, we need to apply every trick up modern medicine’s lab coat sleeves to find a way in which we can increase the number of fetuses a single woman can carry at once. Octamom? Feh! We need to double that number. Maybe even triple it.

Who will do all the work, you might ask? Who, indeed! With so few men (and those confined to zoos), and every able woman flat on her back, daring not to sneeze for fear of bursting open, it will be up to the robots to do all the real work involved. Either that or illegal aliens. Perhaps extraterrestrials will notice that we finally mean business and lend a hand (or a prehensile tail, or a suction cup, as the case may be).

Surely by applying such measures and enacting such policies we can produce at least one Non-Imbecilic Golden Child who can preserve both our planet and our great way of life. Or whatever way of life we might have left at that point. And should we fail, and our species become extinct, at least no one will accuse us of not having tried.

So I say: Eggs? Get cracking!