I never understood my father or the mind he inherited – and I don’t care to. Anymore than I care to comprehend or defend his dad and whatever savage came (figuratively and literally) before that.
If you’re willing to go back even further, perhaps millions of years, I feel my empathy run cold and dead when I think about those first primates that were – only arguably, likely not wholly – haunted by consciousness. Slipping in and out of what we would consider a rudimentary morality. Killing their offspring, their “lovers”, their parents, alike.
The worst part, of course, is that they lived in resigned agreement to die from geological and biological forces that were not beyond their control. Disinterested to control anything, even to save themselves. Sipping their fucking Coca-Colas.