Kinetosis, You Bitch
In the case against intelligent design, I say it’s time we stop worrying about the appendix—that wretched evolutionary deadend—and start focusing in on what must surely be the single most retarded piece of code in our collective reptilian brains; Kinetosis.
Or, in the common tongue: ‘motion sickness’.
If you’re one of the lucky two in three who don’t suffer from motion sickness, let me break it down to you: There you are, minding your own business, happily playing a computer game of some sort. For the sake of argument, let’s say it’s Doom. And it’s going really swell for you to boot, offing hell spawn left and right like a crazed war vet left behind by society and now armed with a high powered rifle and scars on his soul that wake him up bathed in sweat at odd hours of the night.
Then BOOM! Our of nowhere, you’re nauseous. You stomach feels bloated. You can’t concentrate and you feel like you’ve been up for days. And the only thing in the world that can possible counter this horrible condition is… Nothing.
Yes. Nothing. There’s not a damn thing you can do about it! You can lie down, close your eyes and feel as if you’re going to puke your guts out. But it won’t help, so…
Luckily there are some early warning signs that can help you avoid a full on attack of motion sickness in case its trying to creep up on you. To help out fellow kinetosists, I’ve gathered them up here: Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip.
One moment you’re fine. Ready to take on the world, raise children and trade stocks. The next, BOOM! You’re mistaken for a drug addict as you scramble around on all fours, drooling from the side of your mouth and mumbling some indecipherable language only perceptible by fellow kinetosists, and which in general translates to: ‘Fuck this shit, I want out!’.
And if there is a God, and she would be willing to do this to her flock, then she ain’t benevolent. I’m tellin ya.