You should have read The Time Machine when your junior high English instructor told you to.

A study done by evolutionary theorist Oliver Curry, based at New York University in London, paints an intriguing, perhaps disturbing picture of the future of humanity. After one hundred thousand years of evolution, Curry says, we will split into two different species. The first is what he describes as an “attractive, intelligent ruling elite,” and the second, an “underclass of dim-witted, ugly goblin-like creatures.”

This is what may happen in the future, as we continue to rely on pesky things like hormones to influence who we make babies with. The man of 200,007 is tall – six or seven feet. Millennia of interbreeding give his skin the color of coffee with a dollop of cream. His voice? Deeper than Tolstoy’s. His – er – feet? Ginormous. Meanwhile, the 2100th century woman has glossy hair, hairless skin, eyes big enough to rival those depicted in Japanese manga and pert, perky breasts. You probably rented that from the “Adult” section of Emerald Video the other night.

Of course, those are the “haves.” What about the “have-nots?” What a proud day it will be to travel into the future and discover your great-to-the-millionth-power grandchild is a fine, strapping young buck of three feet with an IQ of 70. How does one avoid such a fate? We can think of a couple of ways to prevent this.

First, only marry members of big and burly sports teams… manly sports like basketball and football, where you risk losing a tooth or two. This means you have to stop associating with the “small” sports athletes – jockeys and gymnasts are off-limits. Throw away “Seabiscuit” – it will only trigger a relapse.

Second, get plastic surgery now. Do you want a butt chin to be your lasting impression on the future of the world? Though there is no scientific evidence to support the idea that plastic surgery alters the human genome, it is really just better to take care of that now. Butt chins ain’t impressing those basketball giants – but butt implants are. Celebrate all that junk inside that trunk.

Third, stop settling. If you can’t get the one you want, don’t even bother. You may think that you love that short, balding librarian’s assistant, but that is just your biological clock talking. Smash that thing with a sledgehammer. If he ain’t rivaling André the Giant, it ain’t worth tryin’ it.

Oh yeah, we forgot to tell you. This scientific study revealed in ten thousand years, our reliance on technology will begin to affect our health. So you should just throw away your computer now. We know what you’re thinking: How am I supposed to stalk my future giant husband or wife on Facebook if I don’t have a computer? Here’s a suggestion: Try talking to them. It’s a wonderful thing. And we don’t want to risk speech loss for our future mutant generation.

According to Curry, medicine will be the demise of our immune system, and we will appear more childlike. In other words, stop taking so many damn meds every time you get a sniffle. You pussy – it goes away after a day. Feeling depressed? Cast off that Zoloft and get high on life. It might be a depressed life, but it’s the only one you have. Your Adonis-rivaling offspring will appreciate not cowering in a corner every time a sneeze comes along.

How do we treat the segment of our current population that is shorter than average? You should stop talking to them. They will be part of the “have-nots.” It is simple, scientific predestination. And their ancestors should have worked harder on becoming taller by eating more fruits and vegetables.

If this all sounds shallow, of course it is. We go to UCSB – we’re all shallow. We’re here because we wanted to be near the beach and get tan and become beautiful and marry other tan, beautiful people. Which leads us to our last bit of advice: If you aren’t on the beach covered in baby oil right now, you have no chance of meeting the tall, tan Hottie McHotterson waiting to start the evolution.

Assuming it ever happens, that is. Who’s to say what will happen in a hundred thousand years? Maybe we all just turn into Manbearpigs.