Ah, the monkey brain. We sure do love our bananas, don’t we? We like things just the way they are—simple, comfortable, and familiar. Why bother changing the toilet or the car or even the airplane? They get the job done, right? Well, good enough might be good enough for a chimp, but I reckon we humans ought to have a little more gumption.
The truth is, most of what we call progress is just rearranging the same old furniture in a slightly fancier room. Our class system? Still built on who owns the most stuff. Our beliefs? Dressed up superstitions with a new coat of paint, either scientific or mystical, depending on the mood. And society? Well, it’s still about keeping the masses busy enough not to ask too many troublesome questions.
Even our “modern” technology ain’t all that modern. Sure, we’ve got smartphones and rockets now, but the whole setup is built on monkey-brain logic. We like what’s fast, what’s easy, and what doesn’t require us to think too hard. Our computers are just slightly fancier bananas—we’re still using them to scratch our same old itches.
Now, you take a good look at our so-called innovators. Most of ’em spend their time patting themselves on the back for figuring out new ways to sell us the same stuff. And our patent system? That’s like putting a padlock on the cookie jar—not to keep the cookies fresh, mind you, but to make sure only a few people get fat off ’em.
But here’s the kicker: the truly new ideas don’t come from folks trying to play it safe. They come from the wild-eyed dreamers, the artists, the ones who don’t know or care about what’s “possible.” Those are the people who’ll tell you that you don’t need a better banana—you need to stop thinking like a monkey altogether.
The trouble is, society doesn’t much care for those folks. We prefer people who keep the trains running on time, not the ones who ask why we’re all on the train in the first place. But I’ll tell you this: if you’re a movie producer or a big-shot CEO, you’d do well to hire yourself one of these crazy dreamers. Let ’em loose. One in twenty might surprise you. And when they do, don’t forget to hand ’em a banana—they’ve earned it.
So here’s my advice: stop polishing your bananas and start dreaming of the stars. Life’s too short to settle for good enough.
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