The Human Race Is the Three Year Old Infant Child of the Universe

I can only imagine what extraterrestrials think of us:

Hey, you’re going to break it – give it back.
Share – for the love of god.
Clean your plate – or you won’t get dessert.
No, that toy is not yours – I paid for it.
I know the wrapping paper is cool, but it’s what’s inside that counts.
“I don’t know” does not explain why you are whining at me.
That pound of sugar is not good for you.
It was funny the first time. But not the tenth or the eleventh.
Stop trying to run. You keep falling on your face.
Put things away when you’re not using them.

For the record, that’s what a humanitarian allegory looks like on white wine and vacation.

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