The world of anthropology is a rough and tumble one. Heated discussions abound. It’s quite common to hear such charged phrases as “So’s Lucy of Olduvai’s mother” or “You look like a Neanderthal and think like a homonid” abound.
Sure, you could take up mathematics where everything can be proved or disproved. But where’s the fun in that?
Real men and women flock to anthropology where fossils are rare. Where painting on caves are rare? And don’t even get me started on the lack of cookbooks from the Cro Magnon Era. Either these early humans never learned to write or if they did, their recipes were written on media that just couldn’t survive hundred of thousands of years of exposure to the elements. We’ll just have to wait for a cookbook chiseled in stone by flint tools. In the meantime, we can only speculate what sides Cro -Magnon chefs served with their mastodon steaks.
Let’s face it, there isn’t a lot of evidence. Conjectures must be made. Some are brilliant, some are reasonable, some are demented. But who’s to say which theory is the best. Reasoned discourse only go so far.
Eventually, you’ll have to fight for your view. You need to take up boxing. Every full professor in every major anthropology department across academia won his position by knocking out a weaker, slower hitting colleague.
It goes almost without saying that Nobel Prize winners in anthropology could turn pro in boxing.
Anthropology, it’s not for sissies.
Paul De Lancey, Comic Chef, Ph.D.