There had to be some advantages to living in a cave. For example when I wake up in the middle of the night and need to go potty (as all 22 year old males call it) I have to get my ass up and walk 13 steps to the bathroom where then in a blurry daze I manage to get 30% of my urine in the toilet and the rest is divided among the wall, floor, toilet seat and kitty litter box which I find is rather ironically placed next to the toilet. The irony comes in that the cats are making with their business right next to where the people are making with their business. It was less than a week ago that I was urinating at the same time as my boy kitty Klown who was just inches away from me. Had my penis been angled a few degrees to the right I would have been pissing on him while he was peeing in the kitty litter box, which I must imagine is the bizarre fantasy of the few people who are both into bestiality and golden showers. But anyway, if I were a caveman I wouldn’t have to get up in the middle of the night and drowsily walk to the bathroom and see the kitty litter box and think about peeing on my cat. Instead I could just lean over and pee wherever I God damn wanted to, because it’s a cave, not peeing wherever I pleased in it would be disrespectful to the cave.
Of course there were probably a few disadvantages of living in caves, such as getting eaten by bears. I don’t think there’s any shame in getting eaten by a bear though. They’re big and strong and apparently deceivingly fast. Now getting eaten by a turtle on the other hand would be terrible, shame on your family for six and a half generations terrible. They’re weak, slow, probably mentally handicapped. Could you imagine the differences in conversation when telling someone how a person got killed by a bear vs. a turtle? I can, and I’ll show you.
“So how did Gary die?”
“He got ate by a bear.”
“What a brave, brave soul.”
“Yep, he gave up his life saving 13 Cub Scout Troops. Later he had planned on molesting them, but nonetheless, honorable, brave man.”
Now let’s replace bear with turtle.
“So how did Gary die?”
“He was eaten by a turtle.”
“What a fucking pussy.”
“Probably retarded too.”
The moral of the story is that if you’re going to get eaten by an animal make it a big and scary animal otherwise people will be laughing at your funeral. Wait, on second thought that’s the selfish thing to do. You wouldn’t want to deprive the ones you love of laughter would you? Make your funeral a joyous occasion, getting eaten by a turtle.