You Have Been Discontinued

You are special, a one of a kind. You’ve been told all of your life that you are. This specific moral has been put into nearly every children’s program created since the early nineties. And the thought behind it is true. However, I don’t think it’s so much that we were created in a certain fashion, that we were all made so differently just so that we as individuals could feel important. No, rather, I think we were each discontinued.

Toys, games, and things of that nature aren’t discontinued because they were “too popular” or made “perfectly”. No, it’s quite the opposite. Products get pulled off the shelves and stopped in production due to their imperfections and lack of appeal. And that’s just it. You don’t see several hundred George W Bushs running around, because like the rest of us, the man is far from perfect. And whichever religious belief you may subscribe to, or lack thereof, the force in control of the whole scheme of things has yet to get human kind right. All of us, every single person ever born, have been a prototype, an experiment in the direction of finding the ultimate mold. And the only way we’ll know when perfection has been reached is when all children begin to look exactly the same, and the nametag industry hits an all time high in business. And then what will be done with all the Barney and Mr. Rogers tapes, the ones that did nothing but to enforce the idea that being different is a great thing? Will the world government throw a good old fashioned international book and movie burning, calling it patriotic to turn the world’s history into ashes, and thereby causing Smokey the Bear to collapse from aneurism when half of the world’s forests are on fire due to uncontrolled burnings? And when all of that has been taken care of, what happens to old annuals and family photo albums, things of that fashion which suggest that there was a time when everyone looked different? Could the world handle digging up an old time capsule once the last of our kind have died out and the perfect race of humans have inhabited the earth? And finally, what of our precious art, our Da Vinci’s and Michelangelo’s, the other defining difference between us and the apes (opposable thumbs being the first)? Will that be destroyed to? Or will all manner of priceless trinkets be locked away where those in power will be the only ones with access? I couldn’t even begin to tell you. Of course, there’s always the distinct possibility that just as the first perfect human is being born, the effects of the sun imploding will reach us, and send the entire world into one hell of an ice-age. Either that or it could be blown up by a Vogon construction fleet. But what have you.