Cavemen were good guys. They had the right idea. Keep it simple. Then that one prick came along, with his pants, and ruined it. Fancy Pants wanted more. More food, more shelter, and pants for everyone.
We used to be hunter gatherers. If we wanted a boar for dinner, we hunted it down. Good exercise, satasfying, and so easy a caveman could do it. But Smarty Pants thought, “Let’s pen up the animals -a live stock of food- and slaughter them when we’re hungry.”
Seemed crazy enough to work, but he didn’t see big picture.
More food allowed an increase in caveman population. Those cavemen ate more food, and reproduced more cavemen, who needed more food, so on and so fourth.
Of course, all these new cavemen wanted their own caves, and a pair of those hip pants everyone was wearing. So Smarty-Pants built them huts, and sowed their fancy pants.
But Smarty-Pants couldn’t do it alone. He hired help, in exchange for services and goods -an economy was born. But the other cavemen grew tired and started a union. The cavemen got their fair share, their houses, and their pants. Society just kept on keeping on. Plumbing, the wheel, mail, banks, auto insurance commercials -the whole bit.
Today, cavemen work jobs they hate all day, return home, eat their food, take off their pants, and go to sleep. Mr. Smarty-Pants wasn’t so smart.
And pants aren’t all that either.
Well put chap.
sharp little tool i see
poop will always remain.