By Bill Maher
When the big disease that wipes us out finally comes, it will have evolved in one of three places: A chicken coop, a pig farm, or a Carnival Cruise.
On Sunday a ship arrived back in Los Angeles after a 28-day trip, during which 172 people on board became infected with norovirus. Maybe I’m biased against cruises – it’s hard for me to imagine a real “vacation” where being alone isn’t really a possibility, and where you have to take it on faith that the 3000 passengers who randomly signed up for your trip are going to be super, fun people. But it’s pretty easy to tell who exactly is most psyched about boarding a vessel with a couple thousand people all packed in and trapped together: microorganisms. A cruise is their Super Bowl, but even better – it goes on for days and days, so that viral strains that don’t evolve and thrive on their first attempt can try, try again.