My Jaw Is Shrinking And My Balls Are Full Of Plastic
I'm a pathetic, soft-skulled, domesticated shell of a man. A city-dwelling weakling who'd perish within 15 minutes of being dropped into the wild.
I eat clean. I work out. I take every biohacker vitamin known to man. And yet, I'm always slightly sick. Year-round allergies. Mystery sore throats. Chronic congestion. A body stuck in perpetual beta. An AI-generated template with broken links.
And it's not my fault. Civilization did this. Processed foods turned us into narrow-jawed, mouth-breathing homunculi.
My ancestors cracked open mammoth bones with their teeth just to suck out the marrow. I take Adderall at 7am and sip meal replacements at noon because chewing gives me jaw fatigue.
And even though chewing is boomer behavior, sexual selection hasn't gotten the memo. Women still want square jaws and hunter DNA. So I mew and chew tactical gum just to LARP as reproductively viable.
My ancestors had alpine-adapted noses and lungs with the vital capacity of a wood chipper. I, meanwhile, have nasal passages designed like a startup: lean, sleek, completely dysfunctional. And my lung capacity is optimized for playing Minecraft.
My narrow airways cause congestion. Congestion triggers allergies. Allergies lead to mouth breathing. Mouth breathing leads to snoring. Snoring breeds sleep apnea. Sleep apnea dismantles my immune system. And so I spiral through an endless recursion of man-colds.
My wisdom teeth? They're just there to bully me now. They don't help me chew, they know I don't. They're vestigial ragebait, inflaming themselves out of spite, because my modern, libtard jaw is too narrow to house them.
Every night, I wear a plastic bite guard because I grind my teeth in my sleep. I grind my teeth because I'm stressed. I'm stressed because I take Adderall. I take Adderall because I can't concentrate. I can't concentrate because my dopamine receptors were obliterated by TikTok. I scroll because I can't focus. I can't focus because I scroll.
So now I suck on a little chunk of plastic every night, absorbing microplastics into my bloodstream. Microplastics which end up in my testicles, affecting my testosterone production, making me low T.
Despite my looksmaxxed jawline, the bloodline is doomed. The Bill Gates plastics have corrupted my ability to breed.
And it's not just me. It's not just us. Civilization broke everything. Even animals are adapting to the mess we've made. You see, evolution never stopped, it just got weird. It got urban. The wilderness is now asphalt and algorithms, and the survivors are the ones who can metabolize french fry grease and dodge Teslas.
In Nebraska, cliff swallows used to get annihilated by traffic. Their population was collapsing. The males probably had an incel subreddit. But then, survivors showed up with shorter wings. The shorter wings allowed for tighter turns. Better mid-air dodges. Soon, the population stabilized. Evolution, courtesy of 18-wheelers.
In New York, rats have evolved to digest fast food more efficiently. Not a joke. Genes that support lipid and carb processing are being favored. These rats are now biomolecularly adapted to slop. They are fast-food forged.
Even animals not directly touched by the city are bending to its pressure. In Finland, tawny owls used to be mostly grey, perfectly camouflaged for snowy winters. But now, as the climate warms and snow fades, more and more brown morphs are popping up. Nature is color-correcting for the apocalypse.
So if the swallows get shorter wings, the rats get better digestion, and the owls shift their feathers, what do we get?
What traits help a species survive in a world of endless screens, collapsing ecosystems, and synthetic everything?
Humans 1,000 years from now won't be godlike post-humans. They'll be hyper-specialized sludge goblins, optimized for slop and scroll.
Jaws? Gone. Chewing deprecated.
Mouths? Gone. Nutrition is delivered via IV. All communication is text-based.
Heads? Permanently tilted forward in screen-prayer. Cervical spine fused into gamer hunch.
Eyes? Massive, glassy orbs. Double eyelids evolved into mucus membranes for seamless TikTok consumption.
Fingers are long now. Disturbingly long. Dry, twitchy, curved for optimal touchscreen input.
We don't walk. We scoot. Legs are shrunken. Ankles fused. Technically functional, spiritually broken. Like a 2016 version of PHP.
We're pale, not ethereal, just unwell.
Hairless. Slick. No need for insulation when you never leave the pod.
Swollen asses. Reinforced tailbones. Biological seat cushions for lifelong sitting.
Reproduction only happens through mutual parasocial agreements and state-sponsored IVF programs. Elon Musk, an early adopter of the system, is praised for having been ahead of his time.
Obviously, we don't have sex. Our genitals are mostly decorative now. Honored for their past contributions, like Latin.
The final mutation is neurological. Dopamine tolerance so high we need 30 browser tabs, 80mg of space Adderall, and a podcast at 5x speed just to feel baseline.
We're not apex predators. We're not survivors.
We are the cliff swallows.
The fast-food rats.
The tawny owls.
Not shaping, just shaped.
We live.
Not well.
But forever.
Chewing nothing.