I Blame the Bees.

Today I heard someone say this:  "I drove through two Indian reservations with a couple of buffalo skulls in the back of my car.  It felt kinda weird..." 

Oh, the inherited guilt that stems from the misdeeds of generations past!  As for me, I'm of sufficiently muddled lineage that I don't feel responsible for any of the misdeeds of my ancestors.  

Speaking of ancestors, haven't we got our whole image of the "family tree" all wrong?  Why is the youngest generation always shown at the bottom of the tree?  Wouldn't the roots of the tree be the earliest known ancestors, spreading upward to become the branches which become entangled in the branches of adjacent trees? 

Here's a thought:  Cross-pollination of ancient family trees was facilitated in part by bees!  How, you ask?  Bees make honey, which is used to make mead (which is wine, for non-Renaissance fair types), which has marked influence on inhibitions, which leads to all manner of getting sticky.  Bam!  Cross-pollination.   

I know, it's a stretch. 

We can probably credit Barry White as much as we can bees. 

(super smooth voice) "Aww yeah."

That's some good facilitating.   

Maybe it's all been roots, rather than branches.  That would mean that I'm the bit of the plant that's enjoying its moment in the sun right now, before it gets covered over by time and becomes part of the roots.

TSN