The Good Old Stone Age Days

This is the life I imagined.

Did someone say they wanted to bomb us back to the Stone Age?

Oh, I can only hope to go back to the Stone Age. Simpler times, you know? No working for the man! No work at all. No mortgages, no bills to pay, no escalating gas prices and food lines. No social media! No screens! No tech at all. The only tech we need is fire and pointy sticks. Just you, on your own, against the world. You want a drink? Stick your face in some water and slurp up as much as you want. Hungry? I'm sure there are some berries on some bush somewhere. Lonely? Follow another group of similar-looking sapiens, roll around in their poop until you smell like them and they accept you as one of their own. Want a relationship? Fight someone until they tire out and take advantage of their limp body. Oh, not "woke enough" for you? Don't worry, you probably had to fight a bunch of people before you found the one right for you. By the way, no one cares about "wokeness", that's another thing in the Stone Age: no stupid politics. In fact, no ideas at all. We're all out here trying to survive, man! No one's got time for pollsters and door-to-door canvassers. No doors at all. No lawns for lawn signs. No signs! No lawns! Great! No lawns to mow. That just means more time for me to lie around (maybe in a cave or up in a tree) avoiding being eaten by large cats.

It is so much easier to be a man in the Stone Age. No need to preen and shave. Who cares what you look like? Everyone looks like crap. Everyone smells like crap. No one is going to judge me for my love of meat. You want meat? Go out and get some. Sure, if you do it wrong, you might get a bison horn in the side or up the butt. Never turn your back on a bison, dude! That's on you! You want that meat raw? Go at it, bro. You want it cooked? Find some fire, there's bound to be some around somewhere, and cook that meat! Knock some rocks together, make a sharp tool, and cut up your meat. Maybe put a sharp rock on the end of a stick to go get that meat, and to keep other people from your meat. People? Barely! You can hardly call these upright monkeys "people". Am I right, brosky?

You know what would go really well with these berries and this meat? Some cold ones. No, not ice. It isn't the "Ice Age", it's the Stone Age! No, I mean some brewskies. Beers. Pulled right from that cold spring. It'd be nice to get together around a fire - haven't found any yet, but it's just a matter of time - warm up, enjoy some cooked meat, a few berries, or nuts, snuggle up with that unconscious person (if it is a person?) you knocked out earlier, pull a tick-filled animal hide over yourself, and watch the sunset.

Those were the days.