A Six is a Six is a Six

“You will be .00000000000006 less significant tomorrow.”

Such a hard number to define really, so incredibly small, 1/10th of an atom small. Yet who wants to lose a six off themselves whether it's after 9 or 2 decimal places. As my father told me once while describing numbers, "A six is a six is a six." But add up all these sixes over the last 100 years and then things start to look a little more sobering.

At this very moment you are 75% less important than your Great Great Grandmother. I don't care what she did for a living. She could have milked cows. She could have had a knack for knitting. And you, you could be the president of a small country in Africa, the US president or student body president of a tiny prep school in Maryland. All the same, you are 75% less important than your dairy queen, quilter of a great great grandmother.

THE CALCULATION

Your probably used to lines like this by now, your always at the bottom end. The story of your downward spiral, from seventh grade on you lost your style. But the line, it's sweet tasting, the sixes lost of mine. Such a nice thought, charting your own demise.

1/World Population = Individual Significance

I mean back in the old days let's say 10,000 years ago there were only around 2 to 4 million people, each person played a more significant role, and one person dying meant one less person to forage. When was the last time you did life sustaining things like foraging. I think I picked berries once when I was five.

With humans more expendable nowadays, what significant things do we end up doing. Pet Walking for one. We spend our time filling parks with more shit for me to step on.

So, welcome to a world of dark humor and cruel jokes, where our increasing intelligence is awakening us to our own irrelevance. And our response is quite humorous, really, a scene out of a Coen brothers film. A photo op for the local newspaper, an award at an awards ceremony for worst film of the year, the 3rd grade long jump champion and if you’re really lucky, airtime with Oprah.

So where to go with this absolutely pointless, but scientifically sound waste of time, also called a blog post? Go to the gym tonight or tomorrow, go be a sculptor, go be a floral designer, go work those asinine jobs that make everyone else laugh. Why? Because you can. And while you sip your latte and your client is deciding between the pink chaise or the zebra print chaise (both awful choices by the way), thank your life of decreasing significance for it all.

And send me a postcard. Go to Sweden, fuck some cows. But just remember that your dreams will come true because increasingly no one gives a shit about you.