There are some days when I feel like an old guy. At the time of this writing, I am in the home stretch of circling the sun 42 times. My body is in fairly good shape, but the aches and pains from years of shooting across our galaxy start to add up. But, it’s not necessarily the aging process that is on my mind, it’s more of a question about the overall design of our human bodies. Someday I’ll be dead and I’ll be hanging with God at Starbucks (I’m sure the franchise has infiltrated the pearly gates by now), and I’ll have questions. Not the questions of “why did you make us” and “did my life honor you properly”. No. More like, why did you design us that way. I don’t think I’ll be out of line with this area of questioning. I have valid concerns and suggestions. I need to know if He really thought this whole human design all the way through before cranking out billions of us. I wonder what the prototype looked like.
At the magical mark of forty years old, my eyes have started that change—the change that requires me to hold a piece of paper at three or four different distances before being able to read it. At times, I no doubt look like I am playing the air-trombone. But my question here is not “Why do eyes start to go bad?” No, my question is, “Why has our brain been designed to think that a two dollar pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of our nose is an acceptable look?” We all can’t be librarians now, can we?
Our knees go bad over time too. Was there ever any thought into designing us with more than two legs? There are countless examples of creatures roaming this world with more than two legs. I think I would have spoken-up if I was there during the initial design meetings of the human body. “Hey, those joints in the leg are going to fail eventually. Why not design this human project with four legs? If one starts to fail, these people creatures will be able to hobble around on the remaining three legs. You know, like those ‘cat’ and ‘dog’ projects you keep talking about designing next.”
I think there may be room for improvement on the whole nose hair concept. It’s a great idea and all, putting hair in the openings to catch dirt, dust, and other debris. But why, oh why, does it have to increase the quantity and growth rate as our bodies get older? Why does the body signal a need for more nose hair? It’s not like the size of dust is changing with time. The dust that I’m sucking up today is the exact same size as the dust that got trapped in my nose at a youthful age. I can only assume that something is not quite wired correctly. It probably has something to do with going bald. You lose hair on the top of your head, but gain it in your nose. The hair-growing wires going to the nose and to the top of the head probably should be separated further to reduce the apparent signal mix up.
My final question is this: Why can’t I see my butt? When I draw up a list of body parts that require a routine cleaning, my butt rules the top of the list. What else even comes close to the top of the list? Finger nails? Nope. Feet? Nope. Arm pits? Close… but nope. I’m guessing that original design had the waste management plumbing installed running in the opposite directions—solids to exit forward, liquids exit backward. What went wrong during the final review process? Who in their right mind would clean and wash dishes behind their back, put them away into the cupboard without looking at them, and then just assume that they were clean enough?
But then, what would the toilet look like?
Hmm. Maybe everything is fine the way it is.