American Boys Are Easy!

Posted on February 5, 2013 by Professor Taboo

Twig the Fairy – Scarborough Renaissance Festival

The Scarborough Faire is a renaissance festival held every spring outside my hometown of Dallas, Texas. It is a festival I try to make every year simply because it is an incredibly artsy event that panders relentlessly to my Bohemian tendencies. One year as I, my then 15-year old daughter and 8-year old son were milling about the King’s Pavilion, a wondrously magical fairy named Twig caught my son’s attention. With her wings glistening in the sunlight, she played her double-flute and danced gracefully our direction as if floating on air. As she wound her way toward my son – who is a mega chick-magnet with his blue eyes and cutest smile – and with every step and note she further captivated him with her song and dance. Even I had to confess how transfixing she was; my daughter began laughing semi-uncontrollably. She had never in her young life seen two boys so completely hypnotized. Fortunately for me my daughter’s continued giggles snapped me back into reality: as the father, here was presented a life-lesson of enormous magnitude for my son! I must act!

Then Twig stopped in front of him, smiled, and sprinkled pixie-dust upon his bedazzled head. Game over.

My son’s expression was…well, paralyzingly expression-less. His eyes (and most likely his heart too) were glued to Twig’s every move. My daughter still can’t stop laughing. Realizing that any wisdom I tried to impart would fall on deaf ears, I turned to my still entertained daughter and helplessly said, “And now it starts.” My son was experiencing exactly what I had learned years earlier…

(paragraph separation)

I was a college soccer player training with my team in the Mecca-of-soccer, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. After a week of hard training and games at the Flamengo Futebol Club as well as other clubs, a few of us were ready for the nightlife. Our hotel was less than two blocks from Copacabana Beach off Avenida Atlântica. Just a mile or so down the avenue was Ipanema Beach. Along the two beaches were many restaurants and bar & grills where you could sit outside. I and two other teammates decided to go the center of the two beaches toward Ipanema, have some beers, and meet some hot Brazilian girls. We ordered, began drinking and enjoyed the non-stop scenery.

By the way, my daughter is fond of these two father-brother stories because she enjoys a huge boost of confidence every time they are told.

After many failed attempts to continue conversations with the female persuasion, it was obvious we had to improve our Portuguese. We needed to learn more than just “I’m an American futeboller” and “I don’t speak Portuguese.”

Somewhat dejected and tipsier we headed back to our hotel.

Copacabana Beach, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

What had gone wrong? All during our first several days, Brazilian girls would constantly tell us “Eu te amo,” which means I love you. As teenage boys that translated directly to “I will do anything you want me to, just say the words!” Well, out at the pub we obviously forgot about that last part. We couldn’t speak. We mourned our misfortunes.

“Eu te amo”

Then as if the love-gods pitied our sorrows, a group of five extremely gorgeous Brazilian women were headed toward us….a delightful collision course.

They made it abundantly clear they were interested. They were saying all kinds of nice things, seductive things we were quite sure. In the middle of all the obvious energy and excitement, my teammates and I looked at each other and exclaimed simultaneously, “We love this country and we LOVE easy Brazilian women!” We were the American studs. Finally, our greatest dreams were being realized, but we couldn’t say it in Portuguese. Hoping to keep things moving forward, we told them “Eu não falo Português.” Which as we were taught means “I don’t speak Portuguese.” Major, major mistake.

“Whoa!” screamed my buddy “…that’s a little too friendly!” They began getting much more aggressive right there on Copacabana Beach. In fact, they had gotten SO friendly with the three of us my teammates took off running and didn’t look back. Now I have all five of them swarming me!

The near 24-hour view along Copacabana & Ipanema

I’m thinking Okay, I know full well how attractive I am ladies, but let’s slow down, keep our hands in more proper places, and everybody will have a great time. But how can I say that? “Eu não falo Português” I repeated. They quickly replied in English, “We go with you. We love American men!” And they showed it. Again, big mistake.

The fact that they were all speaking with their hands THE “universal language” and describing the highly charged things they all wanted to do with me, quickly no longer mattered. I drew up my fist and yelled STOP! As “easily” as they started with us, they turned and walked away, giggling among each other.

When I caught up to my two laughing teammates, who completely abandoned me and the night’s mission, they asked “Have you checked your wallet?”

Needless to say, if I had had a wallet in each of my four pockets, they all would have been gone along with my pants. The fact that later after reporting the incident to the Rio Police we were informed that those five “very attractive” women were well-known regulars on Copacabana and Ipanema, and the police thought it also necessary to tell us they were lesbians…professional lesbians, who knew how to work gullible boys. Really? They could’ve left out that last bit!

Have you lost your wallet again?

Which brings me back to Twig and my son and daughter.

As I stood there in the King’s Pavilion watching how enamored he was with Twig, I couldn’t help but appreciate the adage “Like father, like son.” I too had once been warned of the expensive charms of a woman and could not listen….in Portuguese, English, or any language.

My daughter chimed in “Dad, just hand over your wallet for both of you.”

(paragraph separation)

This work by Professor Taboo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://professortaboo.wordpress.com.

Whoops! Not God’s Wrath After All?

Posted on January 30, 2013 by Professor Taboo

(paragraph separation)

Aftermath of Sandy (Joel Cairo - NY Daily News) — Aftermath of Sandy (Joel Cairo – NY Daily News)

“253 Killed, $66 Billion in Damage as Hurricane Sandy rips apart Eastern coast of U.S.”

“Some 270,000 Killed by Indian Ocean Earthquake and Tsunami.”

“90,000 Burn to Death after Mount Tambora Erupts in Indonesia.”

“Deadly Tornado Flattens Everything in Bangladesh Killing 1,300.”

“Plague Sweeps through Eurasia and Europe Killing 75-200 Million Souls.”

“Fed Up God Torches Two Cities Burning Thousands of Residents to A Crisp!”

(paragraph separation)

Of the six news headlines above which ones do you think derive from actual data and first-hand accounts? Did you choose three? Did you choose two? If you are very well read, you might have chosen all six headlines. If you are not only well read but also more reasonable, then you would have chosen only five headlines as accurate. But mixing and comparing journalism of today with ancient storytelling from then is not such a labor of futility as one might think.

Interpreting events is done through two lenses: one is subjective and influenced by the viewer’s own personal and historical experience; or two it is objective, void of the viewer’s personal experiences and opinions; which can seem unrealistic when considering human nature but not entirely out of the question. Is that it? Are there only two? I would like to add a third lens: collective. In other words, viewed and checked, as well as open for future checking, by cumulative relevant data. This third lens is an amalgamation of the previous two. For example, an expert reporter in culinary arts, an expert reporter in interior design, and an expert reporter in Danish climates and transportation all combine their experiences and expertise to give us the most fabulous arrival, dining, ambiance, and cozy evening of eating that could ever be hoped for. And it was accomplished by a collective lens.

Depending on which lens is used there are Judicious, Entertaining, or Advertising Derivatives

ProPublica is a non-profit independent news firm dedicated to providing investigative journalism in an industry that has become increasingly proliferated with opinion and corporate agendas. Their mission statement goes in part like this:

“In the best traditions of [quality] journalism in the public service, we seek to stimulate positive change…We do this in an entirely non-partisan and non-ideological manner, adhering to the strictest standards of journalistic impartiality. We won’t lobby. We won’t alley with politicians or advocacy groups. We look hard at the critical functions of business and of government… [and also] institutions…”

Such a noble mission of reporting and investigative journalism, however, that M.O. would not have been commonly understood or embraced by the small group of exiled Hebrews who compiled the Torah in 2^nd and 1^st century BCE Arabia and Mesopotamia. But if you had to choose between the lenses mentioned and described earlier, which of the three lenses would you think the books of the Torah were written through? For that matter, which lens was used to scribe the entire canonical bible western civilization popularized? Pardon the following C+C Music Factory reference…

Things That Make You Go Hmmm

Most of us are familiar with the biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah. We may also remember that the bible story implies that every single resident was depraved and unholy. It can also be reasonably inferred that this ‘divine judgment’ included the infants and children of the two cities. What town or village, past or present, has no infants or young children? If you would like to read the entire story, the passages in Genesis read like this depending on which version you select; this link is the Mishnah Torah Code by the Mamre Institute in present-day Israel: Genesis 18:16-19:29.

Quickly paraphrasing the biblical story, Yahweh was willing to spare both cities for the sake of fifty righteous residents. However, because Lot and his family were surrounded by such moral filth and because the two visitors he was protecting from an immoral mob, Yahweh felt that Lot, his family, and His ‘chosen people’ would become too influenced by all the evil. Hence, Yahweh rescues them before raining down fire and sulfur, obliterating both cities and every single living thing in them and nearby. From these verses millions of reading and taught followers gain theology and a strict moral compass about sexuality. Oddly enough, the specific sexual act inferred from the verses is later omitted or overlooked in the Ten Commandments.

There are always three sides to every story: Yours, Mine, and the Monday Morning Newspaper

Geologists have long been puzzled by the landslide remains in the valley of Ötztal, Tirol, Austria. For centuries they had considered the cause(s) as inconclusive but possibly that something impacted the mountain due to pressure and explosion evidence. This was the commonly accepted cause of the Austrian landslide until two engineers subjected a copy of a much older Sumerian clay tablet to their cosmic-trajectory program. What followed was completely unexpected.

Path of 3123 BCE asteroid and debris area

Alan Bond and Mark Hempsell of Reaction Engines, Ltd and Bristol University respectively, created a computer program that could not only track the exact trajectory of objects in space, but can also reconstruct the exact position of stars thousands of years in the past. With this precise mathematical knowledge they were able to translate the 700 BCE Sumerian astronomer’s tablet-copy recording an event in the night sky of June 29, 3123 BCE. The tablet also notes that the object was large enough to be seen in space well before the event of June 29^th further revealing the angle of approach into the Earth’s atmosphere.

Coupled with historical geological data of asteroid impacts or airbursts of asteroids, and forensic science, many scholars find it very plausible that the debris field of the 3123 BCE asteroid blast – equivalent to ~ 20,000 times greater than the Hiroshima atomic bomb – sprayed burning sulfur and stone over the Mediterranean Sea and onto northern Egypt, the Arabian Peninsula and up to the Dead Sea (see diagram right). The Dead Sea area is generally agreed to be where the ancient towns of Sodom and Gomorrah are located.

Does this mean that myths, tales, and legends of old about an angry God or gods are creations of men’s minds to help them calm their fears of a very volatile fragile world around them? Has the recent advances of media-telecommunication technology enabled more scientists to more quickly share, collaborate, and hence collectively theorize about the data…improving the accuracy of science’s answers? Are there more of these recent scientific discoveries? Yes, I have already shared a few under the category of History, and will gladly share more in the near future.

Changing Our Lens of the World

Research and rebuttals continue about Bond and Hempsell’s findings, but the consensus is gaining favor. One particular discovery would close the case. If rock or asteroid-debris in the Levant region of the Mediterranean is confirmed to be the same rock and debris found at Köfels, Austria then there would be little left to conclude about the “cause” of Sodom and Gomorrah’s fiery end. If we apply the same cause and source of Sodom and Gomorrah’s demise to the first five news headlines above, then that says New Jersey-New York, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, India, and all of 14th century Europe and Eurasia, were all filthy unholy people — infants and children included — deserving of horrific death. That type of rationale seems to me very extreme; i.e. curing a headache by decapitation.

With that said perhaps mankind can start to revise, maybe overhaul their ancient beliefs in a jealous, temperamental, homicidal God that originates from only ONE region of the planet and from only a small part of Hebrew books/testaments selected from a library of many sacred Judeo scriptures. Assuming that one supreme God exists, can we really know Him from ONE book, from ONE tiny narrow lens? Liken this dilemma to a fine restaurant and you are given an abbreviated menu; one single-sided page. Around the restaurant you see other patrons reviewing menus of three two-sided pages. You must ask yourself, “How much do I really know?“

(paragraph separation)

(paragraph separation)

Snip-Snip and Done!

Posted on January 25, 2013 by Professor Taboo

(paragraph separation)

Inspired by Renee at rasjacobson.com and her clever idea for embarrassing moments from friends, found on her page So Wrong, I wrote this particular story. Check out the 13 funny ones over on her site; you’ll be glad you did! Thank you Renee!

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Waiting in the plush lounge of my doctor’s office and having completed the necessary forms for the outpatient procedure, thumbing through those typical magazines they scatter about, I reflect…asking myself again “Why on Earth am I doing this?” And I remember vividly my history with this sort of thing in this sort of place. This is a short story about a boy, now a man, constantly forced – perhaps charmingly coerced – to face his fears no matter how many times he’d rather not.

Shear-size may or may not be realistic

I travel back in time to my adolescence. I am in one of our family pediatrician’s patient-rooms atop the medical table, Mom is also there, and we are waiting on the doctor’s remedy for my illness. I am nervous, probably because my Mom seems to know something I do not, which makes me more uneasy. The doctor enters the room, talks in a soft calming manner explaining to us but more likely just to me, what he is about to do…to me…in order for me to feel better. Before my eyes he reveals this syringe with a needle I KNOW is three to four inches in length! The remaining words this evil doctor is uttering become oblivious to my ears. There is only one thing I want to know: where are you sticking that and how far? Yes, I know…that is actually two things, but I was desperate and my breathing was becoming more labored.

Well apparently my feeble defense went unwarranted and I don’t know why. Then as if my rising fear meant nothing to the angels of compassion, I had to drop my pants and underwear! Now my palms are very clammy and I’m beginning to perspire. Suddenly and completely unexpectedly I reared up from the table; that evil agent of Satan’s pain-army stuck me in my ass-cheek with that needle. It frickin HURT! Tears are forcing themselves out of my enlarged eyes when I start to feel dizzy and cold. Next, I am in this bizarre dimension of half-reality, half-trippy world with people (if you can call them people) I don’t recognize.

Fast forward 60-100 seconds later. When I woke with the doctor, a nurse, and my Mom looking over me on the floor, I was completely disoriented and worse, I had wet my pants. And if that wasn’t humiliating enough, I had to walk through the patient hall, past the business office and through the lounge in front of everybody to exit the building. A little scared, Mom explained to me that I had fainted but after careful monitoring I was apparently fine.

Soon after this experience, I learned a trick I could do with my butt-cheeks when my father was disciplining me (for direct disrespectful disobedience I’m sure) with THE BELT. If I tightened up my cheeks, the whippings would hurt proportionately less! I thought hey, I can do the same thing when I’m getting a shot! Yeah, stupid move. After the next time, I couldn’t sit down for days. Everything that touched my buttocks made me whelp!

The next thirty-something years were filled with a few similar episodes involving medical equipment, staff, and their facilities. Significant episodes followed like this briefly.

In high school while getting tested for what turned out to be mononucleosis, a lab-technician drawing vials of blood, having me hold the first full vial, pushed the needle too far and through my vein causing me to pass-out onto the floor, bursting the first vial everywhere. When I was awakened I had blood, my blood all over me. Walking out of that clinic I’m sure it looked as if I had come straight from a Stephen King horror movie or was a complete doofus with a ketchup bottle.

Many years later I was helping my teammates erect a large tournament pop-up tent. Using zip-ties to secure down the tarp over the framing-poles, I was using a box-cutter to trim the ties. Being a little too hasty, my motion accidentally slipped off a tie and I sliced into my left wrist. For you newly self-appointed psycho-analyst reading this, no it wasn’t a Freudian-slip trying to escape my inadequacies! While waiting at a nearby medical clinic for stitching, once again I fainted. The nurses there wisely decided to use a butterfly suture instead of stitching me up. Bravely, I concurred.

Lacking representation of a plasma needle

Just a few years ago I went to give plasma. Like I did then, you are now perhaps asking the same question: Are you utterly out of your mind? But I was trying to carry out two things: one, do a good and useful thing, like giving blood, and meanwhile conquer a long-time nagging fear. Second, its easy decent money, right? Um, not so much. I’ve learned in those situations to share all pertinent information and background as possible – ironically that applies in marriages too, as I’ve also painfully learned. Because I volunteered my long history of fainting, the clinic Director pulled me into his office for a quick discussion. He asked a couple of questions and then to make his point pristinely clear, he opened up his desk drawer, pulled out a clear package, and laid it out in front of me.

If any of you know what a blood-plasma needle looks like, then you can appreciate its size…or better, its GIRTH! Holy SHIZZO that thing was as thick as my middle-finger! The doctor explained that the needle I gasped at would be inside my arm for some 45-minutes. “Stop” I said. “I think I’ve had delusions of courage coming here, haven’t I?” As gently as he knew how, he went on to explain to me the cumbersome paperwork he’d have to fill-out for the EMT’s, ambulance service, and plasma center if I fainted there in his clinic; something he must do by law in potential cases like me.

I decided humanity had more than enough plasma.

But my most significant episode with that nagging Dream-Reaper was when my former girlfriend convinced me that a vasectomy would promise all kinds of mutually euphoric pleasure. She portrayed the resulting steamy spontaneous ecstasy better than any quality porn I could imagine, but I think she forgot to mention at whose expense! I had been blindly enamored by her narrations of condom-less tantric-release as much as my lack of upward blood-flow. A common occurrence in men I have learned.

So I am at my urologist’s office for what he and his nurses have explained insistently is a simple outpatient procedure. They urge me this way because apparently thousands upon tens of thousands of men successfully have the procedure, and most return to their daily routines within a half-day or so. One of my close guy-friends has had the procedure done and affirms this while every time laughing at me! “Snip, snip” he said “and your done.“

What is it that these titans of visceral vasectomy aren’t getting about me? Do they even realize that this “simple procedure” is in an area of about the only testosterone-filled manly-ness I might have remaining given my history? Hello? I am going to be awake the entire time he has his….(swallow Adam’s apple) tools down there!

My urologist and his nurses and I come up with a plan: his pleasantly calming assistant will constantly talk with me during the procedure – I don’t care what about – in an attempt to distract me from the REMOVAL. “Alright, you will feel two slight bee-stings” the doctor explains “and shortly after, the anesthesia will kick-in and you will hardly feel a thing.” He was such a blatant liar!

While the nurse continued talking and asking me a few questions, only a few moments later I felt ever-so-vaguely him pulling things down there. A sharp pain rode up from my groin, through my kidney areas, and into my chest. I let out a large groan! “Are we good so far?” the doctor asked pausing. I gritted my teeth and in my head I replied, are you seriously asking that right now? But I fronted a reply of yes. Seconds later I feel the same discomfort but more dull…and as I’m trying to pay attention to what the nurse was saying the walls began closing in on my ears and eyes. I hazily remember trying to fight it but it was futile; it just happened too quickly.

Once the Dream-Reaper had his cerebral fun in my head and departed, the doctor and nurse were hovering over my face repeating my name, placing every so often the swab of ammonium carbonate under my nose. They tell me I was out for about 45-60 seconds. The nurse covers me with 2-3 blankets because I’ve gone into minor shock. Wonderful. She remains with me for five, ten minutes until I am fully coherent to talk with the doctor. It is when he returns to the room that I am informed of the stunning details of what had happened.

“Well [ProfessorTaboo], are we feeling back to normal?” the doctor asked. I answered yes and apologized for what I knew might have happened. He assured me it was okay and began explaining our new options. “We have three choices. We can schedule the procedure for a later date at a hospital and put you completely under, or we can reschedule the procedure for here on another date, or we can try it again.” After carefully considering his three options, I realized that I could not make an informed decision without knowing more…like what my status was down there! In my brilliant moment of clarity I asked, “How far did we get?” He took pause to carefully (and in hindsight tactfully) consider his answer. With a slight smirk he said

**“Umm, I barely even nicked you. Basically, all you’ve had done is the injected anesthesia.”**

I cannot describe how utterly deflating his answer was. I thought I had inflicted some major blows to my historical blood-n-needle-issues and staggered that damn Dream-Reaper. I just took no less than TWO injections into my privates! God, is my macho-ness ever going to peer over reality….just a bit, even if only for a few seconds?

The procedure was later completed much to the ~~prodding laughter~~ excitement of the culprit, my girlfriend. But again, at whose expense…and more so WHAT expense? Am I forever scarred?

Perhaps I should find a moral to my story? Alright, here it is.

Life has strange and many ways of humbling the cocky, and just as effectively (and indiscriminately) to those men who aspire to be despite their neurological and psycho-somatic flaws to the contrary: point and case, me!

(paragraph separation)

P.S. Stay tuned for a sequel to this most humbling experience: You Must Do What with What!? The humility just keeps coming.

(paragraph separation)

Our Family Reunion

Posted on January 20, 2013 by Professor Taboo

(paragraph separation)

“Scientist Prove 7-Billion Earthlings All Similar!”

Quite a news headline don’t you think? But it isn’t that far off. Just as modern nuclear physics and quantum mechanics have shown that everything in existence on our planet is connected, including humans, years of DNA sampling and genetic research from around the globe increasingly shows that all of us are from the same family and same place. Indeed, socially and culturally mankind is very different all over the world. Yet much of our presumed diversity turns out to be only “skin deep.”

Human Genetics 101

The field of genetics and in particular human genetics is the study and research of inherited traits from paternal and maternal ancestors. Traits such as physical appearance are part of every human’s genetic code and are easily identifiable. However, other traits such as blood type or immunities are not so easily identified by the naked eye but can be through DNA, or genetic coding. The order of these genetic units gives a living organism, in this case a human fetus, instructions about how to be built and how to eventually operate. During the lives of a father and mother these units can evolve into mutations, or different instructions based on environmental factors such as diet and climate, as well as by external factors such as the spouse or partner and their internal and external factors during development. Over many generations these mutations become subtle or dramatic based on the ancestral story. For a more in-depth description of human genetics click here.

The Genographic Project

Primary migrations of the human race

In 2005 the National Geographic Society, IBM, and the Waitt Family Foundation, and a panel of genetic scientists led by Dr. Spencer Wells, began a monumental anthropological tracking of human migration patterns using DNA samples from over a half-million people (and rising) from over 140 countries around the world. What the project has revealed is nothing less than remarkable.

So far – and I emphasize “so far” – continued advances in DNA science and technology have shown geneticists that all mankind have evolved from mothers and fathers from southern Africa about 200,000 years ago. Then 154,000 to 134,000 years ago some began to migrate northward. This introductory map has been constructed over the last decade by geneticists Dr. Douglas C. Wallace of Yale and Cornell Universities, Dr. Peter A. Underhill and Dr. Peter J. Oefner both of Stanford University, and now continued by Dr. Spencer Wells and The Genographic Project.

Dr. Wells approaches the movement of mankind not from our distant ape/monkey ancestors of billions of years back as Charles Darwin attempted, but instead from a genealogical approach. Most of us can trace our ancestors back three, four, perhaps five generations back. However, beyond this point it becomes increasingly harder to find details about our ancestors; where they lived or moved, or how they lived. This brick wall is sometimes called the fog of history by genealogists when family specifics become sketchy and grey. Many times this is the result of catastrophic events where the record is lost or destroyed, or perhaps when wars and invasions wiped-out the population and the victors wrote their own ‘version of history.’ For example, my own particular family history – primarily my maternal history – at this point can only be traced back to the late 1700’s. We are unable to find more ancestral details due to harsh religious persecutions in central Europe at that time from which my maternal family were imprisoned or killed. Nonetheless, this isn’t a far rewind on the ancestral clock compared to what Dr. Wells and The Genographic Project have achieved.

Migrations after 7 years of DNA collections

Today the ancestral records can be tracked further back…much further back; like 40,000 years back. And due to the continuing advances in DNA research, we may soon discover much more than basic demographics of where we came from and who we belonged to. You may ask “how is that possible?” The answer is that our DNA code is a very, very long blueprint of molecular signatures; over 6-billion signatures going back to your…our earliest ancestors. Any moment when a signature changes and is passed on to a descendent this is called a genetic marker. It is from these genetic markers that geneticists like Dr. Wells have been able to trace backwards all of mankind’s migrations everywhere in the world AND where our earliest mothers and fathers originated. The above news headline would then read: We Are All Africanus-Humans! Imagine how popular or unpopular that news would be.

The Religious Sidenote

Cuneiform script from Mesopotamia

Before too many jump up and down hysterically that these genetic-DNA advances show scientific support for what the Holy Bible or other holy religious scriptures have taught for millennia, it must be clarified that the original mother and father discussed in this project were among a group of some 2,000 humans hunting and gathering together for survival. Those 2,000 were descendants of even earlier Homo erectus mammals. For the sake of simplicity for the masses, these geneticists have colloquially named the first known mother “mitochondrial Eve” and the first known father “Y chromosome Adam,” both from the 2,000 in southern Africa. These two parents should not be confused with the biblical Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden – that would be a premature jump of some length. Keep in mind that when Homo erectus on through Homo sapiens began communicating to each other verbally and with cave art, it would be another 14,000 years before writing systems took place such as chiseled tokens, sequenced pictographs, and scripted cuneiform. The Semitic alphabet (earliest forms of Hebrew) did not become widely used for another 1,400 years approximate. Therefore, to force the religious testimonies into context with the current genetic evidence, the scriptural stories are based long after the original 2,000 Y-Adams and m-Eves, and hence tell a story of only one leg (if taken literally) of many migratory legs coming from Africa some 16,000 years and 640 or more generations later! That is an unimaginable and incomprehensible amount of events and variables well beyond prehistoric human memory and perception of the time. Therefore, to say the biblical story of Eden is from a very narrow genealogical lens would be a gross understatement. It is enormously unrealistic. It simply cannot be the one and only historical source.

Back to The Genographic Project

Like it or not as it turns out, we are all from an African family. “Within the last 200,000 years” explains Dr. Wells, “we all share a common ancestor; a mitochondrial Eve, a single African woman. What’s more amazing is…the Y-chromosome Adam only lived around 60,000 years ago.” What is inferred from this genetic discovery is that up until 60,000 years ago all of mankind resided on the African continent. It wasn’t until after this time that a subgroup migrated outside the continent. Why did this subgroup decide to leave then? Why didn’t they leave sooner?

The continent of Africa has always been the most tropical continent on the planet over the past 200,000 years. Above the Tropic of Cancer and below the Tropic of Capricorn most landmasses are cooler-to-frigid climates depending on the historical time period discussed. The bulk of the other six continents do not reside inside the warmer more moderate climates of the two Tropics. About 80 percent of Africa lies within the two Tropics making it the most ideal landmass to live during an Ice Age or glaciation. The last hard glaciation started ending about 70,000 years ago (see graph below). By 50,000 years ago the polar ice-sheets were a little larger than they are today. When the warming began, Africa began to dry out and the food sources diminished. Consequently, this is the time when groups began migrating north following their food sources onto other continents. This is the time when mankind’s physical, cultural, and linguistic diversities began.

It is at this point when Dr. Wells and The Genographic Project began the journey of tracing the origins and migrations of some 560,000 individual DNA samples from around the world. The project consists of three core components:

Genetic anthropology – with the use of a GenoChip the project is able to collect 150,000 individual genetic markers revealing a person’s extensive ancestral-relevant story.
Indigenous field research – collecting and analyzing data in cooperation with groups that have remained in local or regional areas for thousands of years. This connects more dots on the human migrations map.
Collective global DNA database – invite the general population to discover their own DNA ancestry through the Geno 2.0 Kit with a portion of the proceeds going toward conservation and revitalization of indigenous projects through The Genographic Legacy Fund.

What makes this project so profoundly revolutionary are the ancestral results for all of us. It will show your incredible family lineage and show it within the context of mankind, something never imagined or done on such a personal basis. This project connects you not only to your particular ancestral makeup, but all humans to our singular African community 200,000 years ago. This has to be one of the greatest evolving stories ever told. How many questions about the origins of you and mankind will be answered? Other questions the Genographic website asks:

“How many migrations out of Africa were there? What role did the Silk Road, with its caravans and bazaars, play in dispersing genetic lineages across Eurasia? What can our genes tell us about the origins of languages? How did the great empires of history leave their genetic marks on our DNA? And if we all share such a recent common ancestry, why do we all look so different?”

The last question above is one I find most intriguing as well as enlightening. As mentioned earlier, climate has played a significant part in shaping our physical bodies. With varying climates, some extreme, come varying food sources and subsequent diets. During abundant food sources or during scarce food sources, how the group manages the sources will decide their survival. And this determination, the question of how a group will survive is a question being answered on all genetic levels. Whether it is familial, local, continental, or as a global species, the question today is always the same on every level: how will we survive together? With this in mind, the operative word in that last question above is “look”. With the advances in genetic science and the continuing work of The Genographic Project, we have learned that on a genetic level every single human being on this planet is 99% alike. It is only the 1 percent outer differences, our “looks”, our adaptive evolving physical features of survival that are different.

A New Viewpoint

Earth seen from the ISS and human space-travelers

While orbiting the Earth inside the International Space Station 250 miles up, Russian cosmonaut Sergei Krikalev said while looking down at our home planet, “from space you do not see any borders… you feel yourself part of humankind, not just man from one country or one city.” Krikalev could not be more accurate. As if from a height of incredible omniscience, Sergei points out that Earth is not a child’s sandbox to be selfishly divided and toys hoarded by the biggest bullies. On the genetic level of inner space to the orbit of outer space, mankind is really the same. What we are capable of accomplishing in collaboration with each other is now demonstrated from the molecular to the cosmos without interruption thanks in part to The Genographic Project. I recommend everyone join, after all, we are from the same miraculous yet harsh place moving on the same journeys.

The adage “hope for the best, but prepare for the worst” comes to mind. As Earth’s paleolithic record shows, our planet can be abundantly sustaining as it can be horribly unforgiving. As the most dominant intelligent species, together we can learn, respect, and grow from it, or we can fight against her and our cousins and perish. It is a simple choice with a simple answer when all the understood parts, from top to bottom, left to right, atomic to macrocosmic point to the same overture:

Our genetic blueprints and Sergei Krikalev’s recognition from space agree, we are all simply humans from the same Earth-family; nothing more, nothing less…yet a little more and a little less.

(paragraph separation)

Life’s Flimsy Moments

Posted on January 13, 2013 by Professor Taboo

The changing of the seasons can sometimes bring sudden unexpected weather. Take for instance a time when my slender 5’ 4” girlfriend was caught off-guard. She and I were walking one windy day out to my SUV, when suddenly things went sort of like this…

(paragraph separation)

Fortunately, she did not travel quite like a tumbleweeding chick; however, I did have to rescue my damsel-in-distress from “leaving me”…albeit unintentional. I am happy to report that my lovely Mary Poppins was unharmed despite all her screams. The moment did offer us a blustery love-lesson: being swept off your feet is not necessarily a good thing!

(paragraph separation)