Wally Rorschach tells me that, proportionally, what we do to ourselves probably wont matter all that much. Some celestial tourcraft will come by and mention that cinder smoking at the corner of the window. “That’s where life struggled to get going over a billion years ago and a few billion years after that bickered itself into oblivion. Now off to the center of the galaxy.”
People are fond of comparative expressions about Renaissance makeup and childcare. In 300 years some anthropologist with a chip in his brain will proclaim our own silliness and dispositions and laugh about it. This Wally image came to me after happening on a reel of swarming photographers chasing after a celebrity with a child in her arms, the mother and child slapped by the non-stop flash of bulbs. Everyone offering advice, judgment, and penalty.
The bulbs are a wonderful and terrible metaphor.