1. HOW does the world contain SO MANY people? The number of people driving around my little city or walking around in the grocery store blows me away. How many women had to throw up for months at a time just to make enough people to populate this single town? And how many of those women volunteered for this process multiple times? That's a lot of barf, people.
2. Why on EARTH does war even exist? If all those women had to barf up their guts and then go through labor and spend years and years putting care and love into little people until those people got big enough to defend themselves, doesn't it seem an immense waste to blow said people up?
If women ruled the world (and in order to become president or queen of any country, a woman was required to bear at least one child), I'm pretty sure we'd get rid of war altogether. The women in charge would know what sort of energy (and endless nausea) their population required to create and bear. And if anyone so much as whispered war from the other side of an ocean, the rest of the presidents would say, "No way, sister. We know what your women went through to make those people. We've been there. We're not about to blow anybody up."
two thoughts on billions of people
so much for world domination
When we started the Risk game on Sunday at 7pm, I was pretty sure I would win. My little blue pieces and I snatched up North and South America faster than you can say "imperialism." And we were strong.
I don't know what happened, though. By 11:30, I was cornered in Madagascar.
And when it really mattered, when everything was on the line, I rolled this:
While I sat at the table for another hour, watching yellow and pink duke it out without me, I got thinking that global domination just isn't all it's cracked up to be. I mean, if you spend your whole life controlling the world, amassing lots of little wooden blocks—or designer handbags, or plasma TVs, or whatever's your thing—it might all just end up in an unexpected, low-rolling letdown on the far edge of Africa. You never know.
Problem is, next Risk game—I'm in. And next time, I'm sure I'm gonna win.