Regular Updates on Battles and Races

A fair amount of argument
Goes on re the environment
Of your evolutionary
Adaptedness to this or that.

Did your ancestors mostly hunt?
Did they forage starchy tubers?
Did they always live in small bands?
Were they peaceful or prone to war?

Whatever their environment,
The idea is that it shaped you
To be naturally at your best
Like that, and now you just don’t fit,

You’re all misfits in the strange world
You’ve generated for yourselves,
Of packaged fats, sugars, and salts,
Electric sedentary shifts,

Massive, pressing crowds, and hurtling
Metal conveyances, garbage
Piled in mountainous midden heaps,
Twenty-four hour media hives.

Mostly, where your ancestors
Were moderate in moderate
But fluctuating conditions,
You’re choking on too much of it,

Fluctuating in the extreme.
What animal handles such speed,
Billion-body mind-melds, constant
Bombardments, massive disasters?

You know another thing you’re not
Equipped to deal with well? Rooting
For sides. Go stand outside somewhere
Boring and consider how rare

It would have been to have the chance
To root for a given outcome
In pre-agricultural lives.
It would have happened—like music

Played using carved-bone instruments
Happened, like painting caves happened—
Occasional, special events,
Games mixed in with ceremonies.

It’s ceaseless competition now—
Not just competitions you’re in—
Endless fights and games you witness,
Addicted to rooting interests.