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Sunday, 28 April 2013

About Birth

We are born. 

We are born at an astonishing rate. 

Every single day the earth's population increases with 200,000. 

That is one extra Portugal per month. One extra Europe every 5 years. 

It can be imagined what this does to the competitiveness of humans. The evolution of technology is exploding, because we have to. 

Let's not even start about any creature having the bad luck not to be a human. It's only a matter of time before the world will look like one big shiny concrete parking lot. With a MacDonalds on the summit of Mount Everest. 

If we want our children to be happy, we better do not teach them too much about wildlife. For our own species will not stop until the last wild flower in the field has been crushed. 

And still, we never put anyone back where they came from. 

Perhaps because we are all so cute when we arrive. Stalin was cute, and your local serial killer was cute. 

And once a year we all celebrate our own birth. You can imagine that moment: "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Adolf..."

I don't want to sound like a sour centenarian going: yes, yes, but what is the quality of all those humans being born?

I beg your pardon - I do want to sound like that. 

It's fun to be sour. Nagging, complaining and gossiping - the top 3 of most adequate therapies. 

Complain for an hour, and all sourness has evaporated. Complain for a day though and you will become very good at complaining. Complain a week and it will become your career. 

So not what I intend to do with this blog. 

I want you and me to be happy, and feel that we leave this world as a better place than we have found it. 

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