Three things there are way too many of:

• Those little packets of duck sauce that come with Chinese takeout. Every home has a burdensome surplus of these little watery pouches, these condiment blisters, filling kitchen drawers, littering countertops, falling between sofa cushions. Soon a critical mass of them will exist worldwide, clustered primarily in American urban areas, and they'll rise up against humanity, a Flavor Army of incredible numbers, advancing battalions of overly salty and insipidly sweet little soldiers, dulling our senses and coarsening our palates as a prelude to taking over the world, one squirt at a time.
• Species of birds. Too many birds. It's created a very boring and geeky pastime, for one. The identifying of birds by their colors and little tufts using binoculars, guidebooks that fit into a pocket of your ugly vest, it's too much. Get rid of some of these varieties, like those loudly squawking ones outside my window that sound like shrieking mental patients, then we'll talk. The world of birds can be neatly divided into three categories: food birds, accessory birds, and the rest. Food birds are important, and often delicious. Without chicken, most people wouldn't know what rattlesnake tastes like. Accessory birds are birds such as a soaring eagle you can point out to a delighted child, the first tweeting bird in the park in springtime, that sort of thing. Not crucial but nice to have around as ornaments. The number of different kinds of every other bird can be reduced greatly.
• Photographs. This is the era of the disposable camera and cheap digital storage, suddenly everyone's a goddamn photographer, everything that occurs is photographed and documented a million times over, yet a total saturation of images and immersion in the visual results in far less meaningful seeing. Sight will be the first of the five senses to be completely used up by man, afterwards all images are banal and meaningless the moment they are born, incapable of carrying information. No one will be able to perceive or understand a painting or drawing ever again, tragic collateral losses of our shortsighted overplowing of the visual field resulting in a sensory dustbowl. The saturation point will be reached on a Wednesday in March 2006, when some guy in Sandusky takes yet another picture of his niece just sitting there.