essays
Disposable Nature
Man emptying his convenience store
Man’s vanity is killer, truly. Walks into nature like a convenience store, grabs a bunch of animals and trees, a few liters of ocean, until the shelves are empty. Then he knocks over some stuff on his way out. Nature tries to clean up the mess and refill the shelves overnight, but she can’t keep up. Man doesn’t care. He’s back upstairs, lounging around his loft.
"Once, Man was just another link in the food chain – eat until eaten – but he found the key to take it off, opposable thumbs..."
Once, Man was just another link in the food chain – eat until eaten – but he found the key to take it off, opposable thumbs, and with his dim wits made a lasso out of that chain to enslave every creature that is yummy or helpful or beautiful.
Nature isn’t happy, you can tell. She doesn’t complain out loud, but her not so passive aggressive ways cannot be misunderstood, unless man tries very hard to misunderstand her. He isn’t a great listener. He’s busy. Wars, TV, sports. He does notice when she sets the place on fire, but he can’t be bothered to act, let alone change. He’s taking her for granted, but he’ll get it as soon as it’s too late. Nature isn’t gonna go anywhere, but she’s gonna kick his ass to the curb for the floods to flush it away. Then it’s just gonna be her and her wildcats.
