A Random Email to a Friend

Dear Oliver, second son of Jamie Oliver, King of the 7 Kingdoms, the words written below is my first attempt at drafting and exploring the beginning of a possible book. It is mainly filled with rhetoric and gibberish nonsense. I must also thank you for the audiobooks, ‘the ones that shall not be named’, and Gimp. In return, on your 18th birthday, 69 prostitutes will arrive knocking on your bedroom door, all yours to teach them a lesson. That is, of course, a mathematical lesson. You will need plenty on tissues, to ensure the whiteboard are kept clean and tidy. No one likes a dirty room with 69 prostitutes at your command, do they, dear friend?

I know little about writing. I do know however, that human beings were the greatest “invention”, manufactured by not an author, not a producer, but a rather clever natural something, that being the tremendous work of natural selection.
It is indeed a truly fascinating question, and a more remarkable thought to think why our feeble, insignificant baby planet holds and sustains such an astonishing product, life. To even wonder on the spectacular improbability of not only our existence, but the birth of our grand universe is beyond our ability to comprehend such a thing. This, leads me to be entirely grateful, with great humility, without the need to be a slave and the constant praising of the “creator”.
I do not care, even remotely, of why we are all here, and what my so-called purpose is in the duration of my stay on this planet we call home.   The truly inspiring question lays on the process of production. In other words, the term how, is a far more intriguing thought on the human mind.
As said in my first sentence, my writing skills and ability are below the standards even from an amateur’s perspective, but I do not intend to use fancy words. My objective is to instead, inform the reader of how our mere existent does not require a designer, although from the eyes of the ignorant, an argument from design seems the most...