Sometimes, I have found in my seventy-some years, it is absolutely necessary to step way, way back and look at this screwed up world the way it really is. Much like watching a house being built, it is the foundation that is first begun. (After the digging) Once a foundation is poured then come the plates, studs, headers, walls, plumbing and electric. After that we consider how best to dress this new structure. Siding is considered as well as paint color and any necessary ornamental wood work. (Don’t forget windows and doors!)
Let’s start with foundations first, as we already had a planet to build a house on. An added bonus is that our planet was made with all we need to mix the ingredients for our foundation. Our planet was also able to provide the lumber, the steel for the pipes and . . . all it takes to make plastics? Hmmm. Imagine if we didn’t already have this stuff available like, say, on Mars or the moon. You wouldn’t have a shovel unless you brought one from this planet where it was manufactured with the ingredients that, somehow, were already available. It’s almost like somebody planned ahead before we got here, isn’t it? I mean, it is all here and it is all available to each and every one of us. Coincidence?
Obviously, all materials we need to put a roof on the house is available in many forms from tar paper and wooden shingles to corrugated steel to straw or bamboo. It is actually not coincidence that it is all here for us, not to mention that, despite the scientists best guess, there are no houses anywhere in this universe but here. Oh yeah, we also have breathable and, usually, quite aromatic air to breathe. When we thirst from our labors we have wonderful fresh water to drink. Of course, you can get all symptomatic and claim fluoride and pollution but all that can be dealt with nicely.
If a person is not sophomoric in attitude or turned against humanity for some scholarly reason it sounds an awful lot like all needs were considered before we ended up on this planet. If we came from Mars or Jupiter there would be something left over for space anthropologists to go and wonder over. Ain’t nuthin’ there though. In true ironic fashion, we have every blessed thing we need to live a comfortable and fruitful life and then we go and start wars, invent weapons of ruin and kill one another. I call this a simple term, “spoiled brats.” Don’t be one of them. ‘K?
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