Darwin who?

Humanity evolves, continually, whether it is part of the natural selection process, by some quirk of genetic mutation or even as the result of technological advancement we are different from the generation which preceded us.

Different isn’t always better.

Humanity prides its self for being the sole self invited occupant of the highest echelon of intelligence on this planet. We consider ourselves wise, with a greater awareness of the universe and smarter because unlike some of the creatures we consider lower then ourselves we don’t lick our privates in public… well most of us don’t at any rate. It is because of our self proclaimed status as “Smartest Thing Ever” and the fact that as I write this there is a man in a trench coat loitering outside this building’s main entrance chasing people about with a gate made haphazard by the wild hip gyrations he performs in the pursuit of his pray; I believe our species is becoming divergent.

Our species is splitting into two sub-species; who we shall name, for complete lack of wit on my part, Homo Tardiculus and Homo Smartypantzii. As Tardiculus devolves and Smartypantzii diverge we will begin to exhibit drastically different behavior patters. Where Smartypantzii continues to develop increasingly complex and meaningful linguistic capabilities, Tardiculus will gradually lose the ability to form coherent sentences, instead opting for simpler forms of auditory communication consisting of several partially inflected grunts and moans coupled with various hip thrusts and rude gestures.

Nowhere is this more apparent then my office. When the sweltering heat generated by the poorly maintained air conditioning system, which is routinely managed by a ragingly incompetent maintenance staff, is coupled with the various whistles, toots, grunts, moans and other sounds I am unable to describe with the English language the only missing element is overgrown foliage.

Some Monday mornings when I make the arduous journey from the elevator to my desk I must bring with me my trusty hunting spear for fear of being ravaged by the lightning quick Horn-tooting Bearnky (Ursus Tootleufigii) and his mate the dreaded Bitching Elephenoose (Loxodonta Loudmouthicus). These are not the only misshapen gentetic throw-backs that reside in my office, they are however the loudest. They are rivaled by Roadkill’s wheezing toots and Lurp Tard's manic heavy breathing. It seems that they all vie for the title of "King of the Wild" as when one starts with the jungle fever grunt-phony they all join in, growing louder and louder until all shreds of sanity are sapped from the floor.

The evolutionists believe in survival of the fittest, only if by "fit" you mean so annoying you cause all competitors to commit violent suicide thereby ensuring you're the sole surviving heir to the Earth, then yes, there are many incredibly "fit" people where I work.

Big Tard Hunter

Every time you decide to pull your partially catatonic somewhat zombie like ass out of bed and face your sure to be apocalyptic day you have to concede that you may have to share the rooms you occupy and air you breath with people that by law shouldn't be allowed to do either. Unless of course those rooms are small, lined floor to ceiling and wall to wall with razor sharp fixtures and filled with noxious gases sure to to cause death or at least human vegetation. Roadkill falls into this category of people.

In an office environment, even one as lax in dress and behavior standards as a call center there are still certain rules and guidelines one must follow in order to keep one's job. Roadkill can not seem to grasp these very basic concepts. He sits between me and the bank of short cubes occupied by our management staff. This positioning allows me to overhear the near constant stream of angrily shouted "counseling" coming from the managers and equally constant disregard he returns. Roadkill is efficient in a full spectrum of failures including the professional; like the inability to document his work and even extends to the personal, like the inability to wear clean clothing and not get hit by cars.

Today Roadkill found a new way to completely disregard common sense, throw caution to the wind and try to get him self fired. While conversing with fellow tards he feigned offence and informed his fellow conversationalists that he would kill them for their beliefs. Now I was doing my very best to ignore the subject of their conversation as I am severely allergic to inanity so I don't know what elicited this disagreement but had I known I'm sure I could have let a single death threat slide, after all condoning threats of wanton destruction would eliminate half of the fun I have trying to get the building a long weekend. No, Roadkill could not leave it at a single quietly muttered promise of personal violence he had to continue, slowly at first, then as no objections came they became more frequent and louder to ice this tard-flavored cake. Soon he is talking loud enough for three rows, including the managers to hear, understand and object. To my dismay no one did and this idiocy continued unabated. Soon he quieted down upon assurance if he did not the solution would involve a HR Ninja strike force, tranquilizer gun and judicious use of the phrase "tag em' and bag em'."

I must say that this solution does intrigue me, perhaps one day when society finally realizes that the tard population has grown to a dangerous size Open Season will be announced and I can begin a new life as a Big Tard Hunter.