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 Lying
on my back on a starry night, counting the uncountable, it seems
as though mankind’s noble aspiration to migrate out of the gravity well
is bound to succeed, allowing us to assume our rightful place among the
pantheon of intelligent species surely scattered throughout the galaxies.
On a rainy day like today, however, the Dowbrigade feels like a member
of a measly malevolent species in the terminal phases of plundering
and
poisoning
our planet, that any really intelligent life in the universe would
avoid like a guest shot on Survivor: The Leper Colony.
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