Ugly Bags of Mostly Water

I’m sick. It’s one of those colds that’s wiped me out so badly that I can’t conceive of knitting anything but stockinette in the round and no matter how much I’d like to watch DS9, crossing the room to get to my DVDs is just too much work. It’s also one of those colds that gives you pause to contemplate the human body, its various fluids, and how gross we really are. Objectively speaking. I’m talking earthworm-gross.

You can wax poetic about the human form if you want, sing the body electric and all that, but Michelangelo’s David is made of marble and there’s no slime involved. What do you suppose we look like to creatures with exoskeletons? Squishy and wet and crawling all over the place.

I’m reminded of that big pink fleshy monster from Aliens 4. You know, the one that ate its mother just before getting sucked out into space through a hole the size of a gumdrop.

Someone out there is going to remark on the beauty of the design, to tell me that one has to admire the eloquence of system that has resulted from millions of years of evolution, as nature has bioselected amongst each successive generation the strongest and best-adapted to the environment, propelling us out of the oceans until we’re standing here now with our big beautiful brains, dexterous fingers, and two feet. I’m with you in the theoretical sense. On paper it sounds lovely. Epic, even.

Then you find yourself face to face with the contents of the kleenex you just used wondering: A) how was there possibly room for all that inside your skull, and B) whether or not its going to stand up and try to make first contact.

See? Ew.