Still by Teabag

Where were we again?

Ah… yes.


How the hell did you qualify for Death Olympics?

(pun intended)

You were born sure…

But have you ever thought about how much it took you to get here?

What was the vetting process before you were born?

Let’s look at the impeccable odds of how you got to land in this accursed planet for your daily 29,200 day aka le dose of life.

According to Dr Ali Binazir, the odds of existing alone are quite high.

Give or take… it’s about 1 x 102,685,000.

To try and put this in scale,

Avogandro’s constant is 6.023 x 1023

That’s 602,252,000,000,000,000,000,000 atoms.

aka the number of atoms in 1 mole of any substance.

You did molarity, right?


Oh shit… I think I lost them again.

Let’s just… break it down,

Shall we?


It’s 1935 on a Friday evening so this might be incredibly short.


According to the Business Insider, the odds of your parents meeting are 1:20,000.

Now we’ll just have to assume they stayed together long enough to have you.

That’s 1:2000.

(Also throwing in the assumption that your grandparents had to meet to make your parents and their parents and their parents…

Listen… you think this is hard to read…

Think about me,


Typing all this.

Now hush….

Let’s go on.

One parental coital encounter later,

And now we have a probability of 1:4

QUADRILLION (1,000,000,000,000,000)

Let’s break a bit of that down.

Out of every goey projectile Mr popped ,

40 million to 1.2 billion little potential kids were released.

Only 2 million of those get to the cervix.

Only 1 million of those make it to the uterus.

About only 10,000 make it to the top of the uterus,

5,000 of those branch out in the right direction of the egg.

1000 get to the fallopian tube entrance

only 200 reach the egg.

and only 1 fertilizes it.

And assuming you everything went well and you went through the infant mortality sieve of 42 deaths in 100 births and all the things in part 1 didn’t off you.

And the fact that you’re not in the 18.5% of illiterate Kenyans. (Because you’re reading this, aren’t you…

you cheeky hooman you).

I consider you one




stop whining at the bad deck of cards life gave you and smile at what you have now…

You dumb ingrate you.

Scurry on now…

It’s the weekend and I think I might doze off any time nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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๐Ÿ˜…๐Ÿ˜…I like your writing style … that’s a nice one๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ”ฅ

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