You and I are survivors of an unimaginable lineage of people who had to suffer the most horrible lives in their struggle to get out of the wrath of Mother Nature and get inside where it’s safe and warm.
For hundreds of thousands of years our ancestors worked their fingers to the bones and lived in levels of near-starvation while they struggled to figure out how to harvest enough food so that their children wouldn’t die.
How many thousands of my ancestors had to live painful lives and die even more painful deaths in order to get me to a point where I live a life of luxury that the Kings of bygone eras could only dream of?
Don’t know. It’s a lot though. So why the fuck should I give up the couch and the TV and the chips and donuts and pizza? If one of my ancient desperate forefathers could trade places with me they would do so in a heartbeat, and for once in his miserable life he could have a hot shower and a warm meal. And as much fucking dessert as he wants.
I’m doing it for you, great-great-great-grandpapa. Pass me another slice!