Overpopulation is the condition where an organism’s numbers exceed the carrying capacity of its habitat, which is a little like the idea of filling your bowl of Cheerios to the point where leakage occurs, only, on this planet, the overflow pretty much ends up in your backyard. Recently, we’ve decided to scale back on the space program, and since other nations have neither the technology nor financial wherewithal to fund space exploration, the idea of colonizing some distant moon seems to be going the way of the phone booth.
It’s not like we are going to stop reproducing – the drive to procreate along with the sexual addiction is way too strong to imagine anyone is going to take the problem into their own hands (literally) – and it’s unlikely we’re going to find ways to live under the sea. Energy sources are eventually going to run out. By 2045, as we approach 10 billion people, food supplies will dwindle. The concept of an extended life increases with every medical advancement. All of this begs the question, what’s next?
Seems to me the Vegans are gonna go first. When Mom said eat your vegetables, she meant it, and since these folks are going to be physically weaker and lower on the human food chain – plus more nutritionally beneficial, what with the added vitamins – I think they’ll be the initial prey. Eventually though, we’ll become full-on cannibalistic carnivores, consuming each other like a necrotizing fasciitis (flesh eating bacteria), in hopes of sustaining ourselves. It’ll be quite Darwinian, a human population so evolved that evolution will speed up, intensifying to the point that mutation occurs more frequently, promulgating the species in a way that will make today’s NBA athletes seem like uncoordinated wimps.
Imagine it, hunting the weaker members of society for dinner. Gives going out for Chinese a whole new meaning, eh? (misfortune cookies notwithstanding) The whole idea of a Happy Meal just resonates with possibility. I think back to Elmer Fudd – the hunting wabbits fella – and wonder about future animation, and whether that subtextual lisp, which implied old Fuddy might have been picked on in elementary school and thus ended up with his irrational compulsion to kill small animals, is going to appear in carnivorous cartoons which depict folks like Yosemite Sam chasing down an overly effeminate Speed Racer in hopes of procuring a Sunday night meal.
This entry didn’t really go where I thought it would…sorry.