Bad, vile and meaningless: Genetic Manipulation Saves from Alan's clob

Genetic manipulation could save the human race (but will it?)

We (or more specifically, we males) are a warlike fraction of our species. Our balls pump out testosterone that turns us into low-browed killing machines. We like war, we want war, and we easily resort to killing as a means for solving a conflict.

The only thing that may save the human race is genetic manipulation. Out of our (by latest counts, some 30 000) genes, a few might require a little bit of knocking around to make the produce of testosterone less, or change its effects into the brain. Why can't being testosterone-filled mean, say, a sexual arousal caused by flowers during spring season.

Luck might be on our side. Consider that humanity's now so advanced that it is able to tinker with genes. We shall definitely tinker with ours. But the problem is, producing more intelligent and balanced human beings isn't likely on the top of the list. Consider, say, military research. They want to make humans able to tolerate more pain, or go on by less food. We are holding the key to our salvation, but instead use it to bash the skulls of our neighbours.

Humanity is doomed. And for those feminists who think there's a rare convert along the male ranks, I got a message: eat shit and die. Little bit of personal history might illuminate my point here.

Once upon time, Antti was a nice boy who wasn't the slightest bit interested in girls or considered killing people as the first and foremost solution to any world problem. That was Antti some, say 10 years ago. But then something happened. Around his groin region, certain globular organs observed the situation and found a healthy boy with excellent potential to smash neighbours' skulls. So they decided that this dormancy has gone on for long enough, and that it's time to get some beard growing started, and each year since has been worse. Not only does the beard grow faster and faster, it's my very character that's slipping somewhere into the type that conflicts with the people in the blue uniforms. And with marital interests. Not that I'd be married, anwyay.

Being a male sucks. Not only do you have these ridiculous sexual obsessions and downright harmful behaviour in situations of authority conflict, you actually get the self-righteous female leads of the world nagging at you at each turn. (Not that I hold too much sympathy for the female gripes either, so in that sense we are pretty evenly doomed.)

Why don't you all just die.