Thoughtless for the Day

I belong to the R1b (M343) haplogroup. My short tandem repeats are

And here's the story of my father's peoples' journey out of Africa, through the Middle East and Central Asia, and into Europe in a handy graphical format:

What does this all mean? Long-story-short: I am a run-of-the-mill garden variety no-frills Honky. When the Black Israelites shout through their bullhorns about "Whitey", they're talking about me. In fact, according to my genetic profile I'm so White that at this very moment I should be smoking a pipe and mowing my suburban lawn.

Now here's an odd thing: it wasn't too long ago that if you told a White-man that he was, indeed, 100% European he'd be overjoyed (particularly if he lived in Germany in the 1930's and early 40's). Maybe this is a reflection of how far white people have come, or maybe it has something to do with White-guilt, but I was really hoping for some color in my family tree (which we now know is an Ash tree). I figured there might be some Semitic or Mongolian genes floating around in my DNA. At first, finding out that I share the same genetic profile as most of the UK was rather a bit of a disappointment. And then it hit me: compared to my ancestors, most of the other haplogroups are a bunch of lily-livered bedwetting pantywaists. Think about it:

Around 50,000 years ago, one of my ancestors (who donated my M168 genetic marker) decided to walked out of Africa. That's right; he took a look around and said "You know what? I'm pretty god-of-the-volcano-damn tired of getting my ass chased up a tree every couple of days by a cheetah, so I'm just gonna start walkin' until I don't see anymore trees or cheetahs. Who's with me? If you stay, I don't want to hear any complaints when my decendents come back with ships, guns, and shackles."

And my ancestors kept walking. 5,000 years later another of my ancestors (from whom I picked up my M89 genetic marker) had settled in what we now call "The Middle East" or "Bedouin Bedlam". My family only stayed here for a few millennia. Most scientists agree that you have to stay in this are much longer before your descendents strike oil or develop a hatred of Jews.

By roughly 40,000 years ago, my ancestors had left Iran an hoofed it as far north as the Himalayas. Modern genetics have pretty much proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that my ancestor from whom I received the M9 genetic marker was virtually indistinguishable from Apu on The Simpson's.

My M45 genetic marker came to me from a man who lived on the steppes of what are today two of the shittiest countries in the world: Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. This guy spent his days hunting animals so huge that seeing their skeletons in museums of natural history has caused people to shit their pants.

30,000 years ago my ancestors (along with my M173 marker) found themselves in Europe and in the middle of the Ice Age. While some peoples' ancestors got to bask in the warm sun, mine spent frustrating days and miserable nights competing with the Neanderthals for scarce resources.

And my ancestors won. I carry the M343 genetic marker. I am a direct descendent of the Cro-Magnon: the people who invented cave painting, musical instruments, and spears that were the ICBM's of their day.

Of course, it would be tens of thousands of years before one of my ancestors boarded a ship (not one of those huge 20th century Ellis Island ships, but one of the leaky 17th century type) for America: a country where, at present, an Atheist with a PhD who spends his days pulling orphans out of burning buildings would still lose in an election if he or she ran against an illiterate dog-fight promoter whose best friend is a dead guy named Jesus. That's why, on clear nights, I stare out my window at Mars.

_ . _

Since Sunday is my birthday, I'll be taking the rest of the weekend off from writing.