Complexity’s A Drag

Simple Souls. That’s how the cookie crumbles: the more complex the system the more things that can go wrong with it. I ought to know, given the prodigious amount of things that are going kaput in, on, out and about my complex vile body. I think I’d gladly emulate the little chap in the doodle and become a single-cell organism. The only drawback I can see in this otherwise amiable state of being is that I wouldn’t be able to operate a mouse or a tablet and therefore no doodles. Then again, that would make some people very happy so it would sort of even things out, more or less. I love happy endings. And bad poetry.

• When I was a small amoeba
• And I didn’t have a liver
• I could get drunk every day
• Happy, merry, free and gay
• And my pods woul’n’t even quiver.

• When I was a single cell
• Life was easy, life was swell
• Now I am eukaryotic
• Drifting around quite neurotic
• And my life is one pure hell.

• If you know what’s good for you
• You’ll stay put and not be two
• Cleave to your monadic charm
• Never try to grow an arm
• Don’t become organic stew!