The three friends – Ansel Head, Henry, and Wilbur, all princes from the Tiny Kingdom – started together at the Birmingham University School in the fifth grade, lived as whites in a segregated society, and like most young males regardless of social strata, remained alarmingly unaware of the stage on which they strutted. Any half intelligent person who bothered to look at boys of this age could recognize that their minds were not yet blank slates absorbing input but billions of free floating neurons with few synaptic connections. Nature had spared young boys the trauma of forgetting things by never equipping them with the means to remember things in the first place; development would take years before the neurons would communicate fully with one another.
Little was demanded of the three boys for they were born to the manor, not in the English tradition of large estates and damp castles, nor in the Southern tradition of the dilapidated plantations from a past era, but in the Magic City convention where immediate ancestors had actually made the money so necessary for maintaining a family’s station.
Life suited the young friends, and why wouldn’t it? Their standing in polite society was secure. They were already in the fraternity even though they were unaware of what a fraternity was. The elderly mistresses who supervised the debutante balls knew their names and were waiting only for them to reach college age before demanding their services as escorts for the daughters of Birmingham’s aristocracy. Remembering nothing and certainly ignorant of any alternative career path, the boys obligingly trudged onward in the Birmingham pipeline.
Although Darwin’s Theory of Evolution lacked standing in the Bible Belt, Natural Selection practiced by the boys ancestors had assured them of genetic appeal. Their blood lines were pure; no unnatural selection had occurred; nothing was hiding in their woodpile. Like most boys in their station, they need only learn to hunt deer and birds, fish, follow sports, and at an early age drink. It mattered not what they were making of their lives because their genes and family money would be in much demand by the daughters of those families already ensconced in polite society or those wanting to elevate themselves into it.
The boys were not descendants of Birmingham’s founders. These Big Mules had amassed giant fortunes, leaving it to subsequent generations in bountiful trusts. Despite portraying themselves as pillars of society and church, many had harvested their silver pieces in distinctly un-Godly ways. A prominent baron had had the police arrest Blacks on trumped up charges, forcing them into chain gangs to work in the coal and iron ore mines without wages; another routinely ground up employees with unsafe equipment in its mills. Such casualties were Survival of the Fittest at work.
The Mules’ families only married among themselves believing that their unions would produce superior offspring. It was the same program they employed with their favorite breed of dogs. But alas tinkering with Mother Nature only produced psychotic dogs and charming, socially adept dilettantes who, during their lifetime, would consume copious quantities of rich food, expensive wine, and oxygen but contribute little else.
“Don’t you know I’m so and so, and so and so?’, the offspring would say, using all of their prominent middle names. Never though would they be able to say, “Don’t you know I’ve built so and so.” Not that that bothered them or generated any self-doubt. They had inherited their ancestors’ arrogance and bravado even if they lacked their purpose. Having old money assured them of their place in polite society throughout the world no matter how the wealth was garnered, and they would be satisfied breeding among themselves, drinking, and grinning their way through a frivolous, but well appointed life.
Some of this generation’s offspring were in the private school attended by the three friends. Having no control over their own schedule, the three boys were car pooled to spend-the-night parties at the progeny’s impeccably decorated houses; mingling one’s children was part of the social compact among the peerage in the Tiny Kingdom. It was also necessary for a boy’s Southern education: One had to be able to respond when meeting peers from other places, “Why yes, I grew up with so and so and often spent the night at his house. His maid, Ethel Mae, made the most wonderful lemon pie!” Without these connections, acceptance outside of Birmingham into other polite circles was needlessly uncertain.
Of these cultural features, the three friends were ignorant. Nothing, though, ever came of their bused integration beyond the boy’s ability to drop names if ever questioned. Even their few synapses that were firing recognized that their childhood hosts represented the final inbred link of the once strong families, that their ancestors’ experiment in genetic engineering had completely obliterated what little charm or worth had been retained in the previous generation. Even the three friends’ parents shook their heads and wondered what had gone awry.
Unlike the founding families, the friends immediate ancestors were still living and working and were closely monitoring and directing their offspring’s education. The grandfathers or their sons or both had volunteered to actually fight the Japanese and Germans; noblesse oblige pumped red, white, and blue in their veins. They were not part of the non-working wealthy class although they were producing wealth. The three boys had reached the top tier of the Evolutionary climb just by showing up; they were simply the descendants of a long line of ancestors who, knowing nothing or caring little about Darwin, had let nature work its Natural Selection magic.
Had the boys had anything in their head besides free floating neurons, they would have recognized that Darwin had finally met his Maker in the cultural Petri dish that is the Tiny Kingdom. The controversial Englishman had justified his Theory of Evolution with inductive reasoning citing examples where only the strongest copulating with the strongest had produced descendants that could survive and thereby evolve into what one sees today. Man was just another specie in nature, bound by and a product of Nature’s laws. The strong would beget the strong and Evolution would continue to evolve indefinitely.
The Mules had lived the Evolution Theory to its unnatural conclusion. Only a few families had reached the apex of the human specie’s evolutionary totem pole; there the air was thin. Natural Selection necessitated that they propagate only with other families at the apex. But their breeding had failed to produce stronger litters; indeed the opposite had occurred and within three or four generations, a micro second in the long span of earth’s history, all traits required for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness had disappeared, evaporated into thin air as a result of Darwin’s Natural Selection.
From this train wreck in the Tiny Kingdom came forth a modern Unified Theory as postulated in Dixie’s Declination of the Species (The Theory of Devolution) and summarized as follows:
Whereby Evolution’s Natural Selection leads inexorably to a specie reaching an Apex where selections for mating are limited and result not to a Natural union but in an Unnatural Selection which extinguishes the Traits required for Exceptionalism and Devolves the specie to the Natural State created by Creationism.
But on these matters, the three boys remained ignorant. Like all boys from any social strata with undeveloped minds, they were content strutting on a stage of which they knew nothing and cared about not a hoot.