We Are the Children of the Stars

by Otto O. Binder

  In short, each of these animals can be set apart from the others by individualistic traits. And this table, prepared by one of the world's foremost anthropologists, is of paramount importance as scientific support for the Hybrid Man theory.

  Out of it leaps this tremendous fact: Of the higher primates, Man has 312 physiological characteristics peculiar to humans alone, many more than any other species.

  Does this sound as though Man were some “close relation” to the great apes? Not if Man has three times as many differences from his “fellow primates” as any of the other specimens.

  This seems to us convincing evidence that significantly lifts our concept out of the hypothetical class into a bonafide theory. And into a theory with such immense supportive evidence that it can, in our opinion, seriously challenge the classic Theory of Evolution.

  Or, to put it another way, let us advance our thinking one more enormous step.

  Let us suppose that if we knew all the facts of Man's origin, each and every one of those unique peculiarities of humans could be perfectly explained by reason of those characteristics having evolved elsewhere than on Earth – namely, in Man's space-ancestors on some other planet.

  That puts us in new country again, breathing the fresh air of pioneer thinking.

  For now we can begin to sketch in the first faint outlines of what our outer-space sires looked like and how they acquired unique non-earth-evolutionary characteristics that exist in their bodies – and perforce in our bodies here on Earth.

  Is this to be our first glimpse of people we will meet some day? A meeting of ancestors and Hybrid progeny?

  First we will point out that beyond Sir Arthur Keith's purely physical and anatomical attributes setting mankind apart from the primates, there are almost as many physiological differences, as partly listed before.

  We shall now take those up one by one and also try to explain each in turn. In this chapter we will take up a major human mystery – why is Man the only truly hairless mammal on Earth?

  In an authoritative book quoted from before, we are told that out of some 4,237 species of mammals existing today, all are hairy or at least partly haired.2 Some semi-hairless creatures can be eliminated for special environmental reasons – ground-burrowing moles who always remain warm underground, armored animals like the armadillo, the wings (only) of bats, and aquatic animals like the whale and dolphin where streamlining has dictated a paucity of hairiness.

  But, the author concludes, “the naked ape [Man] stands alone, marked off by his nudity from all the thousands of hairy, shaggy, or furry land-dwelling mammalian species.”

  Then his “punch line,” so to speak – “If the hair has to go [in any species' evolutionary development], then clearly there must be a powerful reason for abolishing it.”

  But how does an animal species devise of its own doing such a “powerful reason”?

  According to Evolution, there is nothing unique in Man's background that could be classified as a “powerful reason.” The sentence should really read, “then clearly there must be a powerful reason, in the hybridization experimentation of the starmen, for abolishing it.”

  Doesn't this statement suddenly make great sense? Now, just why would the starmen want Hybrid Man to be hairless, when a fur pelt is such good protection against cold and wounds and other hazards of daily living?

  Explanation. It may have been an accidental gene-trait transmitted to mankind during mating experiments of the starmen with the early men, simply because the starmen themselves were already hairless.

  Why hairless? Because an intelligent race that has existed for long ages would obviously have worn clothing all that time, long enough to cause their own evolutionary change to hairlessness.

  An Arctic explorer's skin, in his single lifetime, will adapt and become “tough” to withstand bitter conditions (even though it is not a trait inheritable by his children). But if the opposite happens, and men are constantly protected from any adverse environment, then the skin will not toughen up and will, indeed, let its hairy pelt wither or thin out.

  In time, that is. And remember, the starmen had tens of millions of years for such evolutionary processes to operate, to the point where the gene of hairlessness became universal in all their race. But they, in turn, speeded it up and changed Man on Earth from the hairy Homo erectus to hairless Homo sapiens in a mere 500,000 years.

  Doesn't that one glaring fact admit of no other explanation than the Hybrid theory? Darwin and Wallace both, and most evolutionists to this day, find Man's naked skin the greatest stumbling block to claiming earthbound natural selection for being the sole origin of Man.

  To recapitulate: A hundred years ago, Darwin himself asked why Man did not have fur (hairy pelt) and found no really satisfactory answer.3 He knew that the Australian aborigine, who has never worn clothes, is as hair-shy as Western Man. The monkeys and apes had an equal amount of time in which to develop hairless skin, but they did not.

  We are maintaining that only the concept of Man as a Hybrid explains this enigma fully, completely, and perfectly.

  To reiterate for clarity's sake, Man's lack of a pelt could be a direct inheritance from his outer-space ancestors. It is probable that a race which has been evolving for many millions of years would have worn clothing for eons and thus lost the need for protective hair.

  Then, when Man's outer-space ancestors came to Earth and crossbred with the highest ape forms, a similarly hairless manlike creature was produced. This hybrid creature developed not just as a median form of Man with a reduced amount of hair but as an advanced form with no coarse hair, like the American Indians, who have no facial hair and do not shave. There is, however, apparent among humans a retrogressive type that has a virtual coating of real fur or, at least, very heavy hair. These varieties have been seen at the beaches. We will show how they, too, fit our theory, in a later chapter about simultaneous regression.

  It almost seems axiomatic to say that, if evolutionary forces were entirely and solely responsible for Man's relatively hairless condition, then monkeys, apes, and other primates should show various gradations of hairless and hairy skins, for they have had equal time in which to develop such a condition.

  But all the primates are thickly endowed with hairy fur. Man's hairless skin, therefore, supports the concept that Man can only be a unique hybrid, setting him completely apart from every earthly beast known.

  A whole book by a noted zoologist, under the title of The Naked Ape,4 was devoted to this strange “anomaly.”

  We are not yet done with the question of hair.

  Each earthman carries another mystery of Evolution with him at all times – in the mop of hair on the top of his head. For, although Man is classified as a primate, he has very long hair on the top of his head – a characteristic possessed by none of the anthropoids.

  If it is thought that only the ape's arboreal life keeps him “bald” by means of branches constantly yanking out his head hair, zookeepers have observed that, when living in safe cages rather than trees, apes still do not grow hair on the head.

  The female of our species also possesses very long hair on the head, which is again a characteristic that no other mammal displays. Where did this extraordinary topknot come from? What is its purpose, and why did Man evolve it though no other member of the primate family did? Then, too, how does the long-hair characteristic tie in with the Hybrid theory?5

  Explanation.

  We again go back to when Man (Starman) evolved on a distant planet many millions of years ago. The passage of time and the unfolding of normal social patterns would, in the due course of time, cause Starman to adopt clothing, as we have stipulated.6

  But in time, extraterrestrial Man would also adopt the custom that still prevails in many sections of our world, of covering the head with some form of hat or cap. An unusual and disturbing discovery may have been made one day. It may have been recognized that the cultures that adopted and maintained head-coverings for use indoors and out b
ecome slightly and, in some cases even greatly, decadent. Culturally, scientifically, ethically, and in other ways, their progress began to stop. These conclusions may have been at an unconscious rather than a conscious level.

  It is sufficient for this book's theory, to speculate that our outer-space ancestors concluded that those cultures that went bareheaded were the ones that evolved most rapidly toward the ultimate in civilization.

  No, we are not violating the scientific procedure and fitting a fictional fact to our theory. There is a real reason for bareheadedness being conducive to mental progress, because during cold weather the unprotected head needs an additional supply of blood in order to maintain a normal temperature. This increased bloodsupply is then accompanied by nourishment that produces an increase in mental and creative activity.7

  And so, long long ago, Starman progressed, did research, and invented. He toiled toward ever more shining goals, and he did it all bareheaded, whether knowingly or not.

  The hair may also have become lengthy because there was a long period of time on Starman's original home-world – perhaps a stretch, say, of a million years – in which the head was the only unclothed part of the body in fair weather or foul. Nature gradually evolved hair follicles on the head that would grow long, luxuriant hair.

  Thus, we can see how our own earthly topknot of hair, possessed by no other primate, is no mystery at all if it came as a direct hand-me-down from our outer-space ancestors. It is one more physiological piece of evidence that we humans may indeed be hybrid creations of starmen by odds, perhaps, of, in our estimation, ten to one.

  No hair over our bodies, unlike the primates, yet flowing hair atop our heads, again unlike the anthropoids. Evolution could never have pulled that double trick, which is totally against the principles of natural selection.

  One more point, based on sound scientific fact, adds to the “hair clue” for Man's hybrid status.

  In the womb, a human fetus is endowed with hair all over – which is lost a month or two before birth. Dwell on that a moment.

  As is well known, the human fetus goes through all the rudimentary stages of total Evolution, from a fishlike and amphibian form to the mammalian, finally. But if all other primates and animals produce fetuses that remain hairy at birth, why should Man alone come out naked?

  We are apes only up to the prenatal moment when we become Man.

  That magic moment, in the womb, brings forth a touch that can perhaps be called divine, for the starmen too are the creatures of God. At that magic moment when we lose our hair as an unborn child, we are forever human . . . nonearthly . . . exalted above all lesser animals. We are also consigned to being alone on this planet, estranged and separated by a vast gulf from our animal companions, who are at best distant half-cousins to us. We are demigods among common creatures.

  And this, you see, goes into the mystic reaches of religion itself, an attribute of Man's mental and spiritual life unknown to animals that very likely was also brought to us by the starmen.

  And still we are not done with this “hairy” anthropological problem of Man with his naked skin.

  Note this quotation from a book referred to before:

  In order to clear up a strange feature of our [slight] body-hair tracts. Close examination reveals that on our backs the directions of our tiny remnant hairs differ strikingly from those of the apes. In us they point diagonally backwards and inwards toward the spine.

  This follows the direction of flow of water passing over a swimming body and indicates that, if the coat of hair was modified before it was lost, then it was modified in exactly the right way to reduce resistance when swimming.8

  From this, the author mentions how certain anthropologists drew the daring thought that before he [Man] became a hunting ape, the original ground ape that had left the forests went through a long phase as an aquatic ape [italics mine]. . . . He is envisaged as moving to the tropical sea-shores in search of food (and) during this process, it is argued, he will have lost his hair like other mammals that have returned to the sea [dolphin and whale, for instance].

  This rather farfetched theory does seem to explain one thing: why humans are so agile in water while our closest living primate relative, the chimpanzee, is so helpless he quickly drowns.

  However, the fossil evidence for Homo aquatis is absolutely nil (at least so far), and thus the above hypothesis perforce becomes null and void at the start.

  Still, how can this “patterned hair” be accounted for, if not by earthly Evolution?

  Explanation.

  Again, we can fit it into our theory of Man's extraterrestrial-in-part origin, along with certain assumptions.

  Let us assume that after the “space age” began for the starmen, they thereafter indulged in a tremendous amount of space travel. This would include perhaps lifelong trips to faraway colony worlds, or even generations of travel with periods of high-g acceleration and deceleration.

  Now, as NASA has pointed out, the easiest way to survive high-g forces with aplomb is to be immersed in water. Most of the shock and strain of accelerative forces are canceled out by the cushioning liquid medium in which the crew is submerged.

  If we postulate millions of years of space travel by the colonizing stem of the Starman race, we see that evolutionary forces would have time to work and streamline their body hair for swimming. For it would be deadly dull to merely float for years in a tub of water aboard the spaceship. A bit of ingenuity would devise huge tanks in which the crew members – including women and children on colonizing trips – would swim and enjoy aquatic sports.

  Or we might make the alternative assumption that during their planet-hopping activities the starmen settled at times on “water worlds” consisting of vast oceans and little land. Quite logically, they might gradually switch to an underwater life; evolutionary and mutational strains might have been produced that became perfectly adapted to a “swimming life.” In due time, this would genetically cause the hair on their backs to become streamlined for swimming, and this trait would be pooled into their racial genes.

  Speculative as this may sound, it is no more speculative than the “missing marine link,” whose fossils have never been, and perhaps never will be found on Earth at the seashores. And most disastrous of all to such a theory is the implication that our Hominid ancestors first lived on the land, then took to the sea for an age, and once again returned to the land. But why haven't the whale, dolphin, or seal likewise returned to the land from the sea? This triple switchabout never occurred with any other creature and becomes highly untenable when applied to humanity.

  Evolution is here standing on sand – wet sand. If it has no better way for explaining mankind's patterned hair, displayed by no other earthly primate, then we think that this hair anomaly comes from the superadvanced “primates” of space who fashioned Hybrid Man.

  8

  Physiological Clues

  WE WILL NOW take up further key physiological clues that point to Man being a star-bred Hybrid and not a product of purely earthly Evolution. The points below are all human peculiarities that anthropologists, anatomists, and physiologists have been unable to fit into what Man should be, according to evolutionary rules.

  We will then show how these arresting details of Man's makeup can only be successfully attributed to inheritance from nonearth beings.

  1. Man alone sheds copious and “special” tears.

  The shedding of tears – from dust in the eyes, an irritation, or when crying from emotion – is a commonplace we take for granted. But it becomes a truly singular ability when you suddenly realize that no other primate, or any animal, can shed tears as we do.1

  Yes, many animals can shed tears too. But of a limited quantity, with a vast difference in both degree and kind.

  The tear-making ability is obviously for the protection of the eye, mostly to “wash” it. But where it takes heavy dust, severe irritations, and painful injuries to make an animal's tear-ducts work, Man's eyes water at the wisp
iest kind of dust of the finest particles, and Man will even find his eyes watering in a strong wind or from the sting of coldness. Animals display no such sensitivity to outside conditions.

  But one factor is not duplicated at all by animals – the fact that humans shed “psychic” tears. By that we do not mean anything connected with the paranormal, simply connected to his psyche.

  For instance, no animal sheds tears of grief or joy, nor any other emotion, as does Man. No animal can match the feat of actors who can upon demand produce tears when so required by the role they are playing. And humans shed tears far more copiously than animals.

  It is this “psychic” tear-making ability that sets Man apart from the lower creatures by a margin far too wide to be accounted for by natural selection. In that case, chimps and other primates should shed emotional tears but never do.

  Another curious sidelight to this matter arises. It is possible that early men were like the animals and could only shed basic, nonpsychic tears. Unfortunately, skeletal remains cannot tell the anthropologist whether or not the specimen under consideration had the ability possessed by modern Man to shed emotional tears.2

  It seems quite likely that, before the advent of Homo sapiens (Cro-Magnon Man) some 35,000 years ago, all prior species of submen lacked the necessary highly developed nervous system that allowed for tears of grief, joy, frustration, anger, and all the other powerful emotions to activate the tear ducts.

  Homo erectus probably only watered his eyes when volcanic dust or the smoke of raging forest fires blew fiercely into his face, or when he was suffering from the agonies of a mortal wound. He looked upon the death of others stoically, without being moved to tears. We can assume that other, finer emotions were either absent or rudimentary.

  At any rate, no adequate explanation for this singular ability of a modern human to shed tears copiously, not only for the eye's protection but from an overwhelming emotional bout within himself, has ever been advanced by the evolutionists. They leave the subject strictly alone.