Men of the Planet, Unite!

First, we were being made redundant. Then they replaced our swimmers with engineered supplicants.

Face it boys. We're doomed.

Thankfully, I'm not going to be around to see MANkind die out, but it did get me thinking though.

Imagine a scenario, a hundred generations into the future. Men have been shipped off to the moon in an elaborate prank involving a space elevator, some chewing gum and a frat-boy as president of earth. Womenkind are thriving on earth, peace and harmony runs rampant and there is finally an answer to the long-held puzzle "Why can't we all just get along?"

The protaganist of this scenario, hoping to qualify as the first man being allowed back to earth.

Intervieweress: So Mr Agyrle, it says here you'd like to be considered for a position.

Manpplicant: Yes Ma'am, I'm a hard worker and willing to learn.

I: So it says on your application you were in manufacturing ?

M: Yes Ma'am. When I wasn't making up excuses for not taking out the trash, I was usually converting the raw inputs of alcohol and doritos, processing them with "Buffy"-flavoured radiation from the TV, and producing copios copious* amounts of flatulence, pee and poop.

I: Uh huh. I see. And what transferrable skills do you think you can bring to our community on earth ?

M: Well. I was reading up about the ninth world war, specifically the battle for the last donut, and I thought to myself, "Surely it's time for an upgrade - World War X ?". I told myself. it's time to dream big.. Nuclear fallout of interplanetary proportions.

I: Right..

M: Look, I'll be honest. My testosterone levels were running low and I heard your labs were developing some synthetic swimmer serum. I'd be happy to work for it in trade.

I: Ok. Thank you for your time Mr Agryle, we'll review your application and get back to you. In the meantime, feel free to visit our herbarium colonies for some naturopathic remedies for your problem.

YUP. Doomed I tell you. Clearly I need to start sucking up to my overlord wife. AFTER I maximise that golf membership of course.

*EDIT: Big Sister is Watching. Shirley corrected my mispelling. I reiterate my Doomed-ded-ness.