The article is rather half-arsed. The author seems to forget Orgel's Second Rule: "Evolution is cleverer than you are." While it is as certain as anything in this world that, if humans last long enough, they will split into different species, it takes a bold soothsayer to predict when, where and how that might happen.

His idea is predicated on the Uebermenschen being able to both maintain themselves separate from the Unterditto, and retain control of both the relative and absolute share of resources required to fund their gotalifestyle. The first is uncertain: men think that women are attracted by wealth, beauty, intelligence and Tom Cruise, whereas in the real world women are attracted by wealth and whatever else you have got. Most rich people are incredibly stupid at anything but making money, and the wealthiest people aren't square- jawed tall business tigers but drug and porn dealers and the greasy scrapyard owner down the road.

As for the second, pressure on resources might well make being tall a less than optimal strategy. In the end, it's all about ecologonomics. Sexual selection in humans doesn't only involve the sort of display ritual beloved of Hollywood.


A song on the subject:

In Chester town there lived a brisk young widow.
For beauty and fine clothes none could excel her.
With a figure straight and tall, a slender waist and small,
She's a lovely lass withall, she's a brisk young widow.

So a suitor soon there came, a dandy farmer.
With his hat turned up all round, he thought to woo her:
"My dear for love of you, this wide world I'd go through,
If you only will prove true, you shall wed a farmer."

Says she "I'm not for you, nor your hams and flitches,
For I'll have a lively lad with lands and riches.
For it's not your hogges and yows can buy me furbelows,
All my silk and satin clothes they are all my glory."

"Oh madam, don't be coy, not for all your glory,
For fear of another day and another story-
If the world on you should frown, your topknot must come down,
To a linsey-woolsey gown, where is then your glory ?"

But then there came that way a coal-black collier,
With his boots and leather hat he soon did gain her,
At which the farmer swore "That widow's 'mazed for sure,
And I'll never court no more with a brisk young widow"