... which is maybe why there's so much of "us" and so little of "them" remaining in our human genes.
10%, at best? That's sad.
Maybe those "teabaggers," "Fox News watchers," and genocidal racist murderers are "us," not them.
Men and women who fearlessly hunted dangerous large animals with pointy sticks were probably very gentle and kind to one another, by necessity. Best not hate or kill your neighbors and own kin.
They buried respected elders and the odd queer lame sport who watched the heavens and tracked the seasons... buried them with flowers and many stories.
Leave the lesser humans out for the scavengers. May the vultures and ravens and maggot-flies carry them into the next world as they deserve... or not. Trust the fates, it's all beyond us.
Bad men who abused women and children, those bad men simply did not survive among my ancestors, cast out of the tribe, or their procreation ended while they slept, dead men, or their bloody raw testicles thrown out of the cave to feed the wolf-dogs. Darwin award winners either way. Those women most feared by patriarchs, those she-bitch matriarchs.
I'm the son of bitches, that genealogy going back as far as I can trace.
On the internet nobody knows you are a dog.
Contrary to what the gun lovers believe, an armed patriarchal society is not a polite society; it's a violent and insane society. The same is true going all the way back when "arms" were actual long strong arms holding pointy sticks.
In my U.S.A. Wild West family there is zero tolerance for fools with guns and it's the women who most often enforce that law.
My great grandmas were all hard strong women. The three I knew could be terrifying, especially to a city kid like myself whose own parents served fish my dad caught, sheep and pigs I'd once seen alive, and occasionally supermarket meat (often beef tongue and other less expensive, for the time, meats) as the "main" course of any meal beyond potatoes, rice, cabbage, beans, bread, fruit "preserves," and random in-season fruits. My great grandmas would behead live chickens and rabbits, and I know they killed quite a few other animals too, many much larger than themselves.
As a little kid I'd watch my great grandmas in their kitchens. They could cut up entire small mammals, birds, and fish faster than I could follow their hands, turning raw freshly dead vertebrates into dinner, in less than an hour, deliciously cooked on a wood fire.
My wife's grandma, the only grandma of my wife I met, was a similar sort, a hard wild west matriarch.
I think she liked me.
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