Sons of Monkeys

A New Study of the Human Animal by a down on his luck Chinaman with a Zoology Degree

Species, War, Genocide, Poverty, Jesus, No one is Safe

Blood in the Water - The Actual Meaning of the Bible

There's a prevailing opinion amongst scientists that science and religion should not mix. While I agree in principle, it's unrealistic in practice. As Ernst Haeckel once wrote, "Politics is Applied Biology." The problem is when it's misapplied and people in politics are rarely educated Biologists; after all, this was also Hitler's favourite quote. And even if you have zero political interests, at the end of the day, politics will still be interested in you.

Believe it or not, I have zero problems with people being religious. I just don't think religion should have any place in determining social policy, unless of course said religion proves compatible with the ongoing quest for knowledge and truth. Unfortunately, in our current sociopolitical climate, you can't really be an "official" religion unless you have a really old book to hold you back from such "sciency" pursuits. Consequently, we have this ongoing flame war between dogmatic atheists and theists alike (fortunately conducted in the Twittersphere for the most part where little blood is actually drawn). But here's where all sides intersect:

Religious fanatics, particularly Christians, love to apply scientific tests to old pieces of paper, wood, and garments to scientifically prove that by extension the entirety of the Bible is true. Umm no. It only proves that those material items are sort of old. Atheists meanwhile love to fixate on all the flawed logic in the thinking patterns of such people using clever memes and vicious barbs, which accomplishes nothing more than shaming the other into a more entrenched position.

I'm a man cut from a different kind of cloth. I'm Old School. I think the quality of the information should prevail without the need to go "viral." Perhaps that's why my attempts to market my book fizzled. It honeslty just felt futile as an army of one. See, I've never been dogmatic about anything, except perhaps my ex-fiance and look how that turned out. But I'm naturally curious and that's what drives me. I like turning things upside down just to see what happens. So why not apply science concepts to religion?

Schistosoma flatworm

Schistosoma flatworm

My professor was a parasitologist and he once explained to us how the Biblical plague where the "waters turned red" was likely caused by an outbreak of schistosomiasis, a medical condition where parasitic flatworms damage the bladder and kidneys causing blood in the urine. Locusts going plague crazy and stuff like this has always fascinated the hell out of me. It gives people the type of verifiable stories to help them make up their own minds about the veracity of a particular worldview, hopefully one they have the courage to craft out of their own melange of experiences and logic. 

In my quest to make sense of my own religious upbringing and the conflicting things I was being told as a child, I sat down and read the Bible from front to back, like a real book; I did this a couple of times. What did I learn? Ecclesiastes was philosophically interesting; there are a few good proverbs in Proverbs (duh); and the story of Job proved that if there was a God, I would never worship him because he's a giant dick. I will never understand how people like Richard Dawkins made careers out of being Atheists. It's not an accomplishment. His entire platform is based on the same conclusions that a thirteen year old can make. Bravo *slow clap

But in the interests of the book, I went back and read the Bible again. I don't know why but I was compelled for some reason, and it wasn't the voice of God (or maybe it was? If you keep reading, the answer is probably no). Maybe I remembered something from my early read-throughs? Regardless, what I discovered was one of those "Oh shit!" moments:

The Bible is really just a story about an inbred royal line of kings who call themselves the Sons of God. If you don't skip over the boring ass genealogies, you'll see that there's this constant push to maintain an "inbreeding pact," as a group of people struggles to establish a foothold over contested grounds. Every time one of the future "Israelites" mixes with the locals, he (because it's a patriarchy) is kicked out of the "Covenant." After amassing enough people, they eventually genocide the locals and only then do breeding restrictions lessen but NOT amongst the upper class.

Just like the blood in the water, there's a scientific explanation for why the royal women in the Bible have such difficulty conceiving. It's called Inbreeding Depression; hence why all the "miracle" births. By Jesus' time, we're now looking at a people whose numbers have exploded and the former dominance of the Canaanites is long forgotten, which is not too dissimilar from our own relationships with indigenous people in North America. Consequently, when Jesus' followers claim he is the "Son of God," there is a huge uproar and laughter. A complete stranger, a lowly carpenter no less, has come out of the woodwork claiming to be the rightful King but without any modern genetic tests to prove so (I'm positive the Biblical genealogy listed for Jesus was popular folk knowledge at the time). All the other royal houses from the time of Abraham naturally do a massive facepalm, and in those days this meant feeling particularly stabby. Jesus is of course killed but his story somehow goes "viral" in the Roman world. This story of course will go on to cause many waters of the world to run red, taking us full circle.

Given the sheer popularity of the Bible, I can't believe this isn't "common knowledge." I'm not even sure if I'm the first person to point this out but I'll take credit for it; it's better than anything Richard Dawkins has ever done. But do I care? Not really. I only included it in the book because it was a great example of human speciation and I knew that controversy sells, just apparently not when the science outweighs the sideshow. Do I hate Christians? Nope. Will they hate me for applying science to religion? Probably. But I've always been more like Jesus than any of the people who worship him. I was just raised that way :)

 

Nature Calls

Hi folks,

In an effort to try and raise myself out of the pit of poverty, I've decided to focus on developing a documentary series based loosely on the book. Although there were a couple areas in Sons of Monkeys that deserved some clarification, namely why you are a monkey and the future of species concepts, I'm going to put this blog on hiatus until the time is right for a revisit. There's already more than enough "controversy" in the book for fundies, atheists, and serious scientists to play with. Should there ever be a time when my ideas finally get a proper platform for discussion, I'll be back.

I've left some posts on here to showcase some of my work as a freelance writer and aspiring journalist. Time permitting, I'll release a few more promotional videos.

Thank you for supporting independent thought and serious non-fiction.

Cheers,

Mars

Flushing the Truth

I consider myself to be a tennis fan. You want to know my fondest tennis moment? It wasn’t the first tournament I ever won or becoming the number one ranked under-12 boy in Scar City. No, it was being slammed to the ground by some older boy picking on me and then cracking him in the back with my tennis racquet. He gave me a cold look and then slinked off. I heard I gave him back problems. Advantage Mars.

I grew up playing tennis in the ghetto, well, Canadian ghetto, whatever that means. I would love to write something provocative like, “It was either play on cracked courts or smoke crack” or “The only machines that fired anything shot bullets not tennis balls,” but like I said, this was Canadian ghetto and I’m not the mayor. Regardless, the courts were indeed shitty and we had no fancy clubhouse, showers, or ball machines. Oh and my doubles partner did end up in prison, which I found out one day from his brother while I was about to buy some fried chicken. Seriously. I love cornbread too.

via divergences.be

via divergences.be

I guess that’s why I can empathize with Serena Williams. She learned how to play tennis in fucking Compton. That’s like learning to bobsled in Jamai… wait… never mind. In many ways, she is the embodiment of what White America, White imperialists, have never been able to understand. Physically she is an absolute marvel. If we flashed back to the crimes of the early 19th century, the sheer magnitude of her proportions screams of the Venus Hottentot. Baby got back and front. But instead of merely exuding soft mounds of sexuality, through hard work and pedigree, she has sculpted herself into an intimidating machine. Serena, at least on the outside, is unabashedly a reminder of the injustices your ancestors committed, the very reason why you’re able to build your snooty country clubs where you smack fuzzy balls at one another in your little white short shorts; mind you, at a much more pedestrian speed. That’s why you racist tennis fans and commentators reluctantly show her love and pounce on every opportunity to denigrate her.

As a physical specimen, Serena Williams is a reminder of crimes done in the name of science and crimes done in the name of progress. She is the physical embodiment of colonialism and slavery. And she’s killing your scrawny, weak little children, while barely breaking a sweat. You’re afraid of her. She is big, black and beautiful, well, if that’s your thing. The ass is phat and the titties be bouncing. But then she brings out the gun show and thighs that could crush your girly frame. That’s why you can’t decide whether you want to fuck or fight her. So you stare. We all stare as she prowls the courts and ends up doing the ONLY thing that matters: winning.

Serena Williams the tennis player is likewise a marvel. She defies imagination. She shouldn’t be winning, not at this stage of her career. What she’s managed to accomplish given the number of other hobbies and distractions is truly enigmatic. Either she’s that good or women’s tennis sucks that bad. What she’s managed to do, after extensive layoffs, would be the equivalent of Michael Jordan coming out of retirement to lead his team to … wait that happened already. Hmm maybe they are just that much better than us? Don’t hate; appreciate. Serena’s serve and mental fortitude are simply unbelievable.

Ever since I was little, whenever a controversy would come up while playing something, someone would ultimately chime in and say, “The ball don’t lie.” It’s sort of a universal understanding amongst athletes that sports are supposed to be an arena of truth. It doesn’t matter how much money you have, how pretty you are, or even what you did last year. All that matters is now and the ball doesn’t lie. That’s why we get our underwear twisted in a knot whenever someone egregiously cheats (i.e. uses performance enhancers) or someone outside the game interferes with how the ball bounces. When the stage is properly set, the athletes (and their equipment if applicable) alone will determine the outcome. Nothing else we do comes close to reaching such binary perfection as win or lose. Hence, the expression, “Sports are a model of a just society.” There are rules to each game; if you stay within the boundaries of those rules and outperform your opponent, you win. Sports are probably the best example of anarchy. There are rules but there are no leaders. Umpires and referees are supposed to be there to simply enforce the boundaries and ensure that play is fair. They are not to influence the ball because “the ball doesn’t lie.”

On two occasions now at the US Open, arguably the largest stage in tennis, I have witnessed Serena handcuffed by balls spun by someone other than one of her opponents and both times it has potentially altered the truth. The first time was a called foot fault; the second, a called hindrance infraction. Both times it was the wrong call.

I’m not going to lie; I root for the great White hope also. It’s not that I have anything against Serena, or Venus for that matter; I just can’t help but feel like her not winning is better for tennis. Maybe it will teach the other players to actually learn another shot or strategy other than hitting it hard and flat because there’s always going to be someone bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter and her name just happens to be Serena. She’s kicking your ass and this isn’t even her only job.

Caroline Wozniacki via smh.com.au

Caroline Wozniacki via smh.com.au

So yeah, I rooted for Kim Clijsters and Sam Stosur like the rest of you. They brought new elements to the game, some character that wasn’t Xeroxed in a Russian orphan… I mean boarding school. Kim has always been about character. Dumped by some asshole for a B-level soap star, Clijsters managed to rally back, became a mother, and combined her freak flexibility, work ethic, and power to really push Serena. Similarly, Sam Stosur was the embodiment of a hardhat athlete. She honed her game playing doubles, which is usually something a player does just to stay on the tour, and as a result, she developed a great serve-and-volley game to complement her strong forehand. She’s a throwback in a lot of ways and even saw a sports psychologist to get her over the hump, which shows that she’s human. In life, don’t we all get the yips every now and then? I think it’s fitting that both of these women were able to solve the Serena puzzle. Nevertheless, both of their wins were tainted. Don’t get me wrong, they probably would have won anyways; after all, the ball doesn’t lie, but this doesn’t change the audacity displayed by an umpire allegedly involved in both of these matches. And it’s a goddamn shame no one in the United States Tennis Association thought, “Hey, probably not a good idea to have this lady sitting in the chair again.” But you never wanted Serena to win in the first place.

There are three types of citizens in the world: 1) Those who follow the rules to the letter without question, 2) those who try and break every rule, and finally, 3) those who believe that rules are conditional. I guess you could say that I fall into the latter category and consider the other two to be mindless twits just waiting to get fucked by a moron with more authority or someone bigger, stronger, faster, smarter, or simply with a better gun.

To the rule followers, Serena is a number two (hehe) and deserved her fate. To the rule breakers, Serena’s only mistake was that she got caught. This is the middle path:

Yes, Serena was in violation of the “rules” but as a judge it is your duty to competently be the THIRD PERSON. It is your job to evaluate the conditions to arrive at a version of the truth in the middle OR you become obsolete. Come on. A fucking computer already does a better job of determining if a ball is in or out. The ONLY reason you’re even there is to be the human element, the one who is supposed to toe the line between fascism and chaos, to allow the natural truth to reveal itself. Yes, those were the rules as written by the letter but it is your job to NOT follow them to the letter. It’s your job to evaluate the condition and sometimes how you enforce those rules really depends on how much of a bitch you’re trying to be. Bottom line: You should NOT affect the natural outcome.

via briansmith.photoshelter.com

via briansmith.photoshelter.com

Twice now I’ve seen Serena get screwed over by a “judge” with a little bit of authority. Yes, Serena foot-faulted. I’m not blind. But here’s a newsflash, EVERYONE FUCKING FOOT-FAULTS at some point in the most minor of degrees and it goes UNCALLED. It takes a certain special biatch to make that call at such a crucial juncture of a match. Unless a player is sliding half a meter into the court, this will have ZERO impact on the placement of the serve. It is negligible. There is NO advantage being gained. Anybody who actually plays tennis knows this. Similarly, yes, Serena prematurely snarled “Come-on!” but any competent judge would have recognized that Sam Stosur had NO PLAY ON THE BALL. She wasn’t getting it back. If that was a “hindrance,” then EVERY SINGLE POINT played by a screeching banshee (i.e. Maria Sharapova, Victoria Azarenka, even Monica Seles back in the day, etc.) could be considered a hindrance, no, a wilful hindrance to the performance of another player. And yet every player has to deal with such distractions on every fucking stroke without the hope of their opponent suddenly losing the point for being an annoying asshole. Fucking gag them already.


At the very worst, the umpire should have made them play a let (or replay the point to those not versed in tennis lingo), even though Serena had clearly won the point in the latter instance. They could’ve given her a verbal warning to be a little less over-exuberant next time. No harm, no foul. But no, you had someone in the chair that was a pissing rule follower, twice, and without a doubt it affected how the ball bounced. Inexcusable. As a referee, it’s your job not to put spin on the ball or you end up flushing the integrity of the competition down the drain. Serena is lucky that this was just a tennis match and the racist fucks baying for her ample ass on a platter are not sitting in an actual jury box or on the bench. It may be “just a game” but so is life. The rest of us unfortunately don’t have the luxury of replay or the option to play a let when the ball doesn’t quite bounce like it’s supposed to.

Almost Human

Before the final bell, a distraught Ms. D shared a story with her class. It probably wasn’t “age appropriate” but it bothered her enough to the point where she just had to talk out loud to try and make sense of it all. Teachers do this from time to time; partly because the classroom is a safe circle for everyone and also because you don’t expect the children to really get anything from it other than seeing you as more human. Maybe they’ll in turn trust you should they ever need your help or maybe give you less flack for making them to do their homework. Perhaps you just need a little free therapy.

Either way, it was the tragic story of a life cut short by violence, something that was all over the news and no more heinous or disturbing than any other story from any other week: a young woman treated as a human toilet, a child killed as collateral in some faceless war… It came on the anniversary of a tragedy in Ms. D’s life, which probably left her more vulnerable than usual. As the bell rang, she felt her eyes water and quickly wiped a tear before it could fall. Smiling weakly to her class, she offered a coy apology and an improvised afterschool special that would’ve made any band of cartoon heroes proud. The chairs went up and she dismissed her little wards as they quietly filed out into the sun.

After violin practice, little Rosebud was sitting at the dinner table, and her father asked what she learned at school. Since the human mind best remembers the beginning and the end, she pondered for a moment before recalling the morning’s lesson about immigration after the Great War and Ms. D’s story at the end of the day. “Ms. D was quite upset about what happened,” Rosebud explained with a frown. Her father nodded in approval. He then went on to talk about how their ancestors fled here to escape a similar fate. He scowled about a similar story that happened back “home,” and ended the discussion with, “We’re just not human to them.”

After prayer, little Ishmael was sitting at the dinner table, and his father asked what he learned at school. Since the human mind best remembers the beginning and the end, he pondered for a moment before recalling the morning’s lesson about immigration after the Great War and Ms. D’s story at the end of the day. “Ms. D was quite upset about what happened,” Ishmael explained with a frown. His father nodded in approval. He then went on to talk about how their ancestors fled here to escape a similar fate. He scowled about a similar story that happened back “home,” and ended the discussion with, “We’re just not human to them.”

After piano lessons, little Mae was sitting at the dinner table, and her mother asked what she learned at school. Since the human mind best remembers the beginning and the end, she pondered for a moment before recalling the morning’s lesson about immigration after the Great War and Ms. D’s story at the end of the day. “Ms. D was quite upset about what happened,” Mae explained with a frown. Her mother nodded in approval. She then went on to talk about how their ancestors fled here to escape a similar fate. She scowled about a similar story that happened back “home,” and ended the discussion with, “We’re just not human to them.”

After soccer practice, little Jorge was sitting at the dinner table, and his father asked what he learned at school. Since the human mind best remembers the beginning and the end, he pondered for a moment before recalling the morning’s lesson about immigration after the Great War and Ms. D’s story at the end of the day. “Ms. D was quite upset about what happened,” Jorge explained with a frown. His father nodded in approval. He then went on to talk about how their ancestors fled here to escape a similar fate. He scowled about a similar story that happened back “home,” and ended the discussion with, “We’re just not human to them.”

After basketball practice, little Keyshanah was sitting at the dinner table, and her mother asked what she learned at school. Since the human mind best remembers the beginning and the end, she pondered for a moment before recalling the morning’s lesson about immigration after the Great War and Ms. D’s story at the end of the day. “Ms. D was quite upset about what happened,” Keyshanah explained with a frown. Her mother nodded in approval. She then went on to talk about how their ancestors fled here to escape a similar fate. She scowled about a similar story that happened back “home,” and ended the discussion with, “We’re just not human to them.”

After playing video games all afternoon, little John was forced to sit at the dinner table, and his mother asked him what he learned at school. Annoyed with the constant badgering by his mother, he replied, “Ugh… we didn’t learn anything. Some war… people died… Ms. D started crying… I think she’s losing her mind. Can we eat in front of the TV now?” His mother scowled because this was becoming an all-too familiar story. There must be something rotten going on at that school. It was decided: Tomorrow she would march in there and talk to the principal about this Ms. D who was clearly not doing her job. And how could she with all these little brown kids running around like animals?

We’re just not human to them.