I was reading an article about resveratrol the other day(actually a pretty cool looking compound, and yes, I'm a fucking nerd for saying that), and one of its properties really piqued my interest. Apparently, ingestion of this chemical is supposed to increase your life expectancy. My first thought was, "That's pretty bitchin!" followed by, "And the human race is just figuring this out NOW?" I continued reading and learned that this chemical is mostly found in red wine and peanuts, which ironically makes the drunk asshole wino at the bar who's shoving peanuts into his drool covered mouth by the fistfull and randomly grabbing strange women's titties look like the smartest man in the room (even without the resveratrol, he STILL is if you ask me).

Then another factoid took my attention away, of course listed on a nearby advertisement for the chemical: "Increase your life expectancy to 125." And then, sadly, the implications of this wonder drug sprung up their ugly Sarah Jessica Parker-looking faces, and another character from Futurama popped into my head.

Why would someone want to live that long? Do people really think that being a supercentenarian includes anything but:

1. Being too brittle to make it to the bathroom

2. Pooping yourself

3. Forgetting you just pooped yourself within seconds of the act

4. Repeating the cycle every 30 minutes to the indignation of your loved ones

What about every other old person doing this makes you think that you're somehow going to be the bill of health when you're 95? I'm pretty sure that the average human body isn't able to sustain a hundred years of top notch activity no matter how healthy you try to be--unless, of course, you're one of the 0.0001% of society that's built from nothing less than brick shithouses and fueled by the persistence of jesus christ himself. This thought actually brings to mind another image.

That's right, not only are you NOT going to be some lucky, muscle-bound freak of nature, but your decrepit, shit-stained ass is going to be a horrendous burden on the rest of society for the remaining days of your pointlessly drawn out lifespan. I'll leave it up to you to do the quick Google search of exactly how fast the need for social security is increasing every year in this country (I'll save you some time: it's a lot). At this rate, my generation's contribution to social security is akin to handing Bernie Madoff our life savings while simultaneously pulling down our pants and bending over in front of a 6'5'' serial rapist and daring him NOT to pulverize our assholes while we call him a limp-dicked nancy boy. Judging by the current state of things, our money would show more of a return if we invested it into Chinese amputee midget porn (wish I had a pic for that!). Do we really need an extra beneficial health drug to serve to the Baby Boomers, when they already carry around buckets of ginseng and ginko biloba to give them that extra boost to demand the senior discount at Arby's while they're sitting on a mountain of social security booty at home that would make Tony Montana blush?

The very worst part of living for a long time? Everyone you know and love...is fucking dead. It's bad enough that we have to witness our bodies inexplicably shutting down like Windows 95, but when everyone we know starts dropping like black guys in a slasher flick, the whole journey to wormtown seems that much bleaker. I mean, really, the only human beings you're obligated to outlive are your parents. Once they're gone, your kids are grown up, and you finally got your wife to let you donkey punch her a few times, you pretty much have the go ahead to get the fuck out as soon as possible. What else is there? Unfortunately, the only part of life that mirrors The Bucket List is the end--when Morgan Freeman dies (spoiler alert!). Do your grandparents skydive? I didn't think so.

What it boils down to is that we're not built to last forever. Why do women outlive men, even today?--because once upon a time, men were built to go out and wrestle smilodons with their bare fucking hands, that's why. A proto-dudeski would be lucky if he lived long enough to legally drive his first Flintstone car. Back then people probably thought the only body parts that got wrinkled were their scrotums and labia minora (from all that hot, sweaty, nonconsensual cave-fucking). Though I can agree that it's quite a feat that we were able to extend our lifespans to the degree that we have, I think that we took it a little too far. Human beings are like that random dude who shows up at your party and asks if he can borrow one of your CDs, and then leaves the party with ALL of your CDs, your copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and your girlfriend.

So, by all means, live a long, healthy, and happy life. I'm just saying that you don't need to be some sort of drug-addled pseudo-vampire with an unnecessarily extended lifespan in order to reach fulfillment. Chances are, by the time you reach 60, you're done doing anything new and exciting with your time, and you merely exist to take shits, waste money on meandering cross-country R.V. trips, and make young people generally uncomfortable. If at that age you're able to look at yourself and realize that there's nowhere to go from here, congratulations, you've just completed the game of life, now put down the resveratrol and fucking die already.

Maybe that's why the Earth wants us off of here so goddamn badly.

-Bizob