Come Pluck Us Bird Flu

It's time. We have had our chances. Let's give it back to the Elephants and see what they come up with. (Giant Ipods maybe!) The Human Race seems to have peaked sometime in the early fifties. Now the ultimate expression of Success on this idiotic planet is to be able to watch Gilligan's Island reruns on your cell phone.

Somebody has us all hypnotized and we are all dancing like funky chickens. We just can't see it.

I held out some hope until today. Until I sat down on the Gunner ski lift at Seven Springs with two teenage boys. They started talking about their favorite cheerleaders. Great. I love cheerleaders. They are perky at the worst of times. Yea let's talk about cheerleaders.

Tiffany is so hot.

I like Jody. She is so hot.

Michelle is the hottest.

You know who's really hot? Australia!

Huh?

That's it folks. Did you hear that? Never mind that there are only twelve tigers alive in the wild in the entire world or that Mariah Carey will explode the next time she takes a deep breath. In 1989 two human beings made a baby and they called the little girl Australia. Can you imagine?

Australia dinner's ready!

Australia. Stop teasing your brother Alpha Centauri!

What do you want to bet the dolled-up egg met the landshark sperm on a beach outside Sydney?

Australia it is nice to meet you. My name is Wilmerding...

Why does the simple fact that two people in Pittsburgh named their baby girl Australia make me think that our stupidity as a species is terminal? I don't want Australia to feel bad. It's not her fault that my hearing her name spoken with teenage lust on a ski lift has made me see the tipping point. Everybody will see the end in a different way. You can be sure somebody sighed and laid down in traffic after hearing Fifty Cent's Candy Shop.

Nevermind. Let's all enjoy the Funky Chicken while we can.

And hope we get plucked before we do something really dumb....