Pack Your Banana: A Funny Field Guide to the Next Wave of Evolution (Updated)

Pack Your Banana: A Funny Field Guide to the Next Wave of Evolution (Updated)

Here’s the awkward truth about the classic “ape → caveman → human” poster: if it kept going, the last panel would be you… squinting at tiny text on smart glasses while a Russian Blue cat in AI shades judges your posture.

Relax. This isn’t a doomsday sermon. It’s a pep talk with snacks.

Welcome to the Age of Upgrades (No Cave Paint Required)

For most of history, “adapting” meant inventing fire or discovering pants. In the next 5–7 years, adapting might look like:

Talking to your glasses the way we used to talk to the dog (“Where did I put the keys?”).

Wearing a wristband that buzzes when your email gets spicy.

Letting an AI quietly organize your chaos while you pretend you did it all by hand.

This isn’t “become a cyborg or perish.” It’s “learn two new buttons and live a little.”

Darwin, But Make It Daily

People keep quoting Darwin as if he said, “Only the strongest survive.” He didn’t. The spirit of his idea is simpler: the adaptable thrive.

Translation for 2025: the folks who experiment—just a little—with new tools will have more time, fewer headaches, and better snacks. (I can’t prove the snacks part, but look at the data in my pantry.)

A Completely Serious Evolutionary Forecast (that is not serious)

2025: We stop asking, “Is AI cheating?” and start asking, “Is NOT using AI a flex or a cry for help?”

2027: Your kid’s science fair project accidentally runs your household budget, and honestly…it’s better at it.

2029–2032: Smart glasses feel normal. Wrist haptics keep your calendar alive. Your cat’s glasses are purely aesthetic, but the attitude is not.

“But I Don’t Want to Live in a Sci-Fi Movie”

Fair. No one’s asking you to install a USB-C port behind your left ear. Think of these as comfort tools, like reading glasses for your to-do list.

Tiny upgrades you’ll barely notice:

Dictate a text while cooking. (Civilization survives your cutting board.)

Let AI turn a rambling voice note into a clean email. (Your future self thanks you.)

Ask your calendar assistant, “What will Future Me forget by Friday?” (Answer: that meeting you swore you’d remember.)

The Cat’s Three Rules of Adaptation

My Russian Blue consultant—who insists on being paid in sardines—offers this wisdom:

1. Sniff first. Try a tool on something low-stakes. Grocery list, not court filing.

2. Nap often. Automations should give you time back, not homework. If it feels heavy, simplify.

3. Scratch what doesn’t belong. If a tool adds friction, out it goes. You’re not adopting tech, you’re adopting taste.

Your “Micro-Evolution” Starter Kit (15 minutes total)

5 minutes: Ask an AI to summarize a long article or email thread. Decide in 30 seconds if you actually need to read it.

4 minutes: Set a daily 2-sentence journal prompt: “What worked today? What should I automate tomorrow?”

3 minutes: Create one text shortcut on your phone for a phrase you type constantly (address, links, signature).

3 minutes: Turn on live transcript for your next meeting. You’ll catch the one action item everyone pretended to hear.

Bonus minute: Teach your cat to ignore your smart glasses. (Impossible. Proceed anyway.)

What If I’m “Not a Tech Person”?

Great news: that’s who this era is secretly built for. The interfaces are getting simpler, the help text is getting friendlier, and half of the magic phrases are:

“Help me start.”

“Make this shorter.”

“Explain this like I’m new.”

If you can order a pizza on your phone, you can ask an AI to reorganize your Tuesday.

The Gentle Art of Future-Proofing

Pick usefulness over novelty. You don’t need the shiniest tool. You need the one that makes Tuesday less weird.

Automate the boring, not the human. Keep your taste, judgment, and humor; hand off the copy-paste.

Keep a “What I Outsourced to Robots” list. When the list gets long, celebrate with cheesecake pizza. (Highly recommended by our test kitchen: me. Read the recipe here: http://deepdiveaipodcast.blogspot.com/2025/09/cherry-cheesecake-pizza-from-pantry-to.html)

Stay kind. The future is a group project. Share your shortcuts. Don’t gatekeep the good stuff.

The Real Flex in 2032

It won’t be who owns the fanciest visor. It’ll be who kept their curiosity intact. Curiosity ages well. It survives software updates. It laughs when the cat turns on your voice assistant at 3 a.m. (“Ordering twelve cans of sardines.”)

A Tiny Manifesto (Suitable for Fridge Magnets)

Learn one small thing each week.

Save the time you win. Spend it on people.

Keep the jokes. Keep the cat.

Adapt on purpose.

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If you’re waiting for a sign, this is it: try one micro-experiment today. Dictate a message. Let AI outline your next blog. Ask your calendar what you’ll forget. You don’t need to sprint into the future—you just need to step in its direction.

Another blog to read: Camper Humor — “Coffee Steam at Arbutus Lake”:

http://deepdiveaipodcast.blogspot.com/2025/09/camper-humor-coffee-steam-arbutus-lake.html