Four-time gold medalist Michael Johnson believes so.

http://sports.yahoo.com/blogs/olympics-fourth-place-medal/michael-johnson-says-slavery-descendants-run-faster-because-155858303––oly.html

 

There are no genetic differences! It's all cultural! I learned that on Arfcom. It's science.

Not so much genes, as selective breeding by slave masters.




 

After of centuries and centuries of this , guess what happens.



Some adapt.

What? Negros are good at running sports?



Well slap my pantaloons oil my carraige! I'll go ahead and make sure Mr. Hurst knows has this on the first barge of circulars to Manhattan in the morning!



Now, where is my grandson's polio medicine?






 

Hockey and rodeo must not be all that athletic.

Selective breeding is manipulation to achieve a desirable genetic outcome in the offspring.

Kinda like how you have sex with hotter smarter women so your kids won't come out as wonky retards who fail at science.

At one of the schools I went to as an undergraduate, I lived in the same dorm as the football team one semester. I'll just condense what would otherwise be a long, sordid story into a simple - and brutal - observation:

These football players...they were dumb. Very, very, VERY dumb.

They were simple creatures, more like ruminants than men, really. Their ceaseless quest was to "score." Score points. Score weed. Score white chicks.

I met them for the first time after my roommate (who looked for all the world like a young Charlie Manson) and I somehow, mysteriously, ingested some mescaline.* Several of the ruminants were attempting to "score" some junk food by breaking into the vending machine on our floor. They were having a rough time of it, not wanting to actually break the glass but rapidly running out of options.

I was content to stand there and watch the festivities, but Charlie wanted to aid the athletes in their time of distress. So he demonstrated how, through judicious use of a broken coat hanger, one could liberate the tasty morsels from their glassy prison with no damage to the machine at all. Duly impressed with the larcenous skill of two skinny white boys, five or six of the players followed us back to our room where they persuaded Charlie to fire up the VCR and show off his porn movie collection. Ardent fans of smut, the players more or less "narrated" the movies, getting louder and louder until they were, as is apparently the custom, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Awwww nawwww! He be gawna git summa dat!"

I remember these things. However, the one thing I remember more than anything else was how profoundly dumb they were. Dull-witted. If you had a sack of screwdrivers - old rusty ones, not new ones - that would roughly approximate the intellectual capacity of those football players. I'll give them credit, though: if loudness were equal to brains, each of them would have been roughly as smart as Erwin Schrödinger and Werner Heisenberg. Combined.







*I know not of how these things happen. I am only a man.