I recently read a story about some inventor who has taken drastic steps to try and live forever.
He takes 250 supplements every day. He drinks 8 to 10 glasses of water each day and just as many cups of green tea. He does batteries of tests to check how he is doing and makes diet adjustments accordingly.
All of this, Ray Kurzwell says, will hopefully help him live long enough to see human immortality become a reality.
While I admire scientific minds that dream of the impossible – I would rather he would put his efforts toward improvements in television technology though – I have just one question for the man who wants to live forever.
Where do you plan to put all your stuff?
Seriously. If we live forever, we’re going to need bigger attics.
I have trouble finidng enough room for all my stuff, and I’m only in my mid-30s. What would happen if I lived into my mid 130s? And I don’t consider myself that much of a packrat.
I once shared a house with a guy who kept Sports Illustrated magazines forvever. I was a lot younger than him and would find issues from when I was in high school.
And I had already been out of college for two years. If he lived past 100, he would have to buy a house for his magazines and sleep out in the yard.
I couldn’t fathom living forever. If old people now drive around with their turn signals on, how will we handle 200-year-olds on the roads?
Besides, I don’t even want to think of the stories about the “good old days” from some guy heading into his third century.
The plan Ray Kurzwell has, though, doesn’t involve frail people living forever. he claims that health and technology will merge to put an end to aging and death.
The advances will also “obliterate known limits on human intelliugence.”
That’s where I draw the line. Because if these advances will make people smarter, won’t these superhuman people figure out that living forever will kind of take the fun out of everything?
I’m not advocating dangerous living, but part of the thrill in jumping off the small bridge at Woodcock Lake when I was in college came from the unknown.
If I had some superhuman blood cells and genes, I would never have done it, much less gone back for a second round before the cops came out to chase us away.
How would the book publishing industry survive if they couldn’t crank out a new cockamamie diet book every nine months?
We wouldn’t have people like Dr. Phil to help us solve our problems if we evolve to a great state of intelligence.
Oh, wait. That’s a good thing.
Maybe I need to rethink this whole thing. If we figure out how to live forever, we’ll get smarter.
That means no Dr. Phil, people will realize Michael Jackson hasn’t done anything worthwhile musically for at least 15 years and no more movies starring Ben Stiller, Adam Sandler or Will Ferrell.
I don’t know if I want ti love in a world like that. Even if I did know where I could find a Sports Illustrated from high school when I was 245.