That Charles Darwin Is Full of Shit

I believe in the theory of evolution. Bold statement, I know. But I want to get that out of the way up front. Darwin makes sense to me. I also want to come right out and say that I make no claim of being an evolution expert. So much of what follows may be a complete and total misinterpretation of the theory of evolution, actual facts, and science in general. Having said that, I would really like to sit down and talk natural selection with old Chuck Darwin about flightless birds.

I don’t understand flightless birds. To be clear, I’m not talking about ostriches and penguins here—birds that can’t fly, but remain mobile. I’m talking specifically about worthless, immobile birds. And really not even all worthless, immobile birds. The chicken, for instance, I get. Chicken, you were probably mildly useless, but then were domesticated by humans. You were bred to be more worthless as animals, because we ruined you. But dodos? How could you have gotten so worthless?

Now before you go getting all explainy on me, I understand the evolutionary argument. The story goes like this: Birds that could fly landed on an island. There were no predators on the island. There was a whole lot of food on the island. The flying birds didn’t need to fly. And so they evolved into flightless, worthless pieces of shit.

But that’s crazy, right? Is it just me? In order for that to have happened, every bird, when faced with the choice between sex with an athlete and sex with a fatass, chose the fatass?

So the theory of evolution isn’t so much, “survival of the fittest.” But rather, “survival of the fittest, until survival isn’t a challenge, and then just become the laziest pieces of shit you can be”? Does that about sum it up Darwin?

Because it seems to me that’s the case. The dodo bird could fly, once upon a time. It certainly didn’t swim. And since it existed only on an island, Mauritius, off southeastern Africa, it must have flown to the island, right? Upon getting to the island, 4 million years ago, these flying birds noticed how much awesome food there was. Well, they probably didn’t consciously notice. Regardless, they began gorging themselves.

For 4 million years, the dodo had what I would describe as a food and fuck orgy on the island. They lived like Nero, or as I call him the orgy emperor. All of this I understand. Survival of the fittest doesn’t require you to be a puritan. But there’s still no disincentive to flying, right? I mean, if I could, I would totally fly. That would kick ass. Who wouldn’t choose the ability to fly when presented with that option?

I’ll take it a step further. If I met a woman who could fly, it would be “adios wife”!

“Sorry lady, I want my child to be a superhero. And right now, Flying Francesca is really my best shot at that possibility.”

“Yeah. I get it.” My wife responds understandingly. “If there was a dude who could fly, I’d totally be all about that.”

Flightless birds had that option! But their conversations (in bird language) went totally differently.

“Hey ladies, I know there’s a ton of food all over the ground, but check it out. There’s some apples up in the trees. And I can fly up there and get them.” Flying Frank the Dodo says, beating his chest a little.

Tubby Tommy, King of the Island, puts down an over-ripe apple that fell from the tree long enough to say, “There’s more sugar in the ones that fell already. Those ones up there are bullshit.”

“Yeah, you’re a show off Frank,” says Fat Francine. Then she turns around and gives Tubby Tommy a B.J. (beak job).

“Hey guys, what has two wings and doesn’t use ‘em? This guy!” Tommy says.

All of his friends in the orgy laugh in unison.

“Look at Frank. He’s expending energy unnecessarily!”

“What an asshole!”

The barrage of insults continues until Frank leads all of his flying friends back to Madagascar, where life is slightly more difficult, but where their biological makeup remains fundamentally sound.

Fast forward to the 16th century, when humans show up on Mauritius and within 100 years every single fat, stupid bird is eaten.

Right before getting clubbed to death, Tubby Tommy stares at his assailant and says drily, “Dear God, I have wasted my life.”

That scenario just doesn’t play out in the real world. Look at us. In the United States, no one goes hungry. (Incidentally, that’s kind of cool. We’re pretty fucked up with poverty, racial inequality, homelessness, etc. But you can’t really starve to death here.) There’s food a-plenty, always available at your local grocery store, food repository, or boutique foofy specialty store. And while we have become the fattest pieces of shit in the world, we still make fun of fat people! I have yet to see an 8-year old obese kid pick on somebody for running.

“Don’t you understand! You don’t need to do that!”

When I see that? It’s time to move to Madagascar.