no one is allowed to die. everyone sort of collectively understands that the earth can't hold up if this current birth rate continues. we're creating people faster than we can find places to store them. we can't feed all of them. we can't keep all of them healthy, but it's an absolute travesty if anyone dies. no one is allowed to leave this party. even if you're just on the waiting list, people will gather to protest if your potential mother decides to cancel your invitation. if you murder a bunch of people and spend several decades waiting behind bars for your day to be dosed with electricity - people will gather outside with candles to try to persuade the warden to just let you ride it out. no tidal waves, no earthquakes, no fires. there is no possible way for a chunk of people to be removed that is considered acceptable. disease seems to have a randomness to it that feels like it was almost a pre-agreed deal, "you can kill us, but make sure it's a random draw." and even though it is mostly random, we're still not thrilled with it. it feels personal and unfair. but then there's tobacco. you take a little death stick in your hand and scratch off your potentially winning numbers with every puff. then one day, you die a miserable death. and that's fair. a little kid with leukemia has no business having to deal with that, but you should. it's not a fault line that spontaneously started jumping. it's not a branch that mysteriously fell on your head. it's one of the only deaths that you can comfortably settle into without having to ask "why me?" you know why you. so can we cut out all the advertising trying to save these idiots? don't blame big tobacco or little tobacco. it's not nicotine. you wanted to look cool, and now you're creating some space for the rest of us by dying. it's very thoughtful of you.

no matter how rational anyone pretends to be, particularly men, there is probably an initial knee jerk reaction to finding out your son is gay. there are images that quickly sneak into the mind that may cause a father to reel back a bit. i would imagine they are on par with hearing your daughter say, "good news - i'm in love." you're excited for your daughter. happy that she's found love, but there are also images that may creep in. hearing your son say he's gay probably just briefly allows ridiculous images to pop into your head. and what does that say about you as a father? your son says he's gay. do you picture him and his partner taking some walks, tasting wine, and watching TV? or is it just a bathhouse/orgy montage? i hate that people still feel compelled to say, "i would be totally fine with my son being gay" like it's some sort of proclamation worthy of respect. but we live in a time where that probably is good to blurt out every now and again ...especially if your son has a propensity for singing. as much of a non-issue as it would be for me to learn my son was gay, it would really bum me out if my dog were gay. there are no walks or wine tastings for dogs. there's not even a courting period. there's just that pathetic look of resignation as another dog completely dominates them in front of everyone. your dog can't even look at you. they just look toward the ground as if they can't see past the end of their nose until someone comes over and hits the top dog "quit that!" ...good luck doing that in your son's room.

sex robots are being designed with one purpose in mind. to just be used relentlessly without the user feeling any of the normal regret involved with such an exchange. a girl with a lifetime of abuse behind her, who only views herself as a sex object, knows how she was programmed. she usually has to blank out those memories with a steady diet of booze and methamphetamines, and even the most callous fellow would rather not deal with that sort of regret after the act is done. but what if the object of that gentleman's interest had no idea it was created strictly to satiate his sexual appetite? if you love your job, you don't consider that maybe you were created specifically to do it. "i feel like i was born to sell insurance, bob." what if you were? would you be disappointed? are these sex robots sentient enough to have these sort of existential questions? and if so, doesn't it seem like having sex with them is the last thing you'd want to do? wouldn't you have some questions to ask them? like what it feels like to suddenly exist? the scientists all just standing around with their pants down as this frankenstein creature rises from the table, "i feel ...alive. what is this? reality? i can't describe where i just was, but i feel like i've just been introduced to an entirely new existe...." "shhhh, shhh, shhh. there's plenty of time for that. now let's see those hooties."

as a human, it's hard not to feel a little bit of compassion for most things - even if they are inanimate objects or bits of technology. like when you see a tree really taking a beating in a storm, and there's a part of you that thinks, "poor old bastard". voyager 1 and voyager 2 were launched over thirty years ago. their jobs were to just head away from earth and relay back information. they take photos, measure solar wind, and other such menial tasks. they are over 10 million miles away at this point, and when their task is over - they'll just be shut down and left to float out into space until the end of time. if that were a person, we'd feel kind of bad. "good news, guys. i found the end of the sun's wind. no more showing up at this point." "great. thanks for all your effort." "when can i come home? ...hello?" then just infinite floating. voyager must be pretty lonely. maybe that's why we sent two. i hope they can at least play some card games with each other.