I still hold out some faint hope for the glory of our species, even as the terrible, man made Sixth Great Extinction engulfs the planet. I resist daily the impulse of becoming misanthropic by the spectacle of ceaseless human dereliction. I could succumb however if we succeed in snuffing out our nearest living relatives, the great apes. Benobos, orangutans and mountain gorillas are under siege everywhere. Those that we don't succeed in devouring as bush meat or capturing for the foul exotic pet market will no doubt be turned into fashionable items of pop culture ephemera. As the inexorable machine of world commerce grinds and slobbers its way through the last pristine habitats of these beleaguered creatures, all seems lost within about fifty years. In my own little corner of the biosphere (actually not so little, the Chesapeake Bay watershed) watermen are perplexed as to why their catch of crabs, clams and oysters dwindles steadily year after year. It is because, you greedy, selfish bastards, you have taken tons of shellfish from the Bay for over a hundred years and have given nothing back in return. Instead, you retire to your dark, smelly little churches and pray to an extinct, near eastern deity who has no more to do with the Bay then the tobacco juice you spit into her waters. Not once have I heard a Maryland waterman speak lovingly of the Bay.

Pray To The Bay you fools!

I am happy to report that they appear to be a dying breed.