Green War Crimes — Disposable Males

By Howard Bloom

Aristotle says that nature always takes the shortest route possible. Sperm may disagree.

The REALLY hard part of sex is the mate hunt. The primitive precursor of romance and heartbreak. Remember, you are a moss 500,000 years ago. You have ditched the path of least resistance and are taking your chances on the vast and murderous desert of rock that will someday be called “land.”

If there were Bernie-Sanders-style-progressives around, they would probably say, “Let’s take care of the sea first. Why waste precious resources on this land program? We are distracting our attention from what really counts. Let’s take care of the species that are endangered and starving here in the oceans, here in the waters that gave us birth.”

And these social justice warriors might be right. Your space program is an overwhelming gamble The persistence of life on land will be an iffy proposition. You, the moss astronaut, are in a moss community sitting precariously on a shoulder of rock that could shrug you off at any minute. You and your neighbors are the merest speck of fuzzy green on fifty seven million square miles of blank and savage stone. Stone made only the tiniest bit hospitable by the cracks that bacteria have expanded. Rock faces made only the barest bit livable by the powders, slime, and mats that…