That may be a little difficult to believe when everybody looks so obviously different and strikingly unique. Well, not so much when you push past that tough, tough skin which stuns me everytime I try to put a needle in, it's so much tougher than you'd expect it to be, you know.
The truth is our innards do really look almost exactly the same as that of say, President Obama or for that matter, Baba Ramdev's. Some have a few veins extra, others have a couple of arteries clogged. Certain really special people may have their hearts on the right hand side.
But otherwise pretty much the same.
Which makes me understand the true significance of our frontal cortices. The emotions we invest in people is what raises them over and beyond the milling millions of humanity.
We prescribe identities on flimsy bases of language, region, class, dress and perhaps most artificially, of religion.
But under a surgeon's scalpel or a butcher's knife, we're all exactly the same. Meat. We're so fragile; we bleed when we're cut, we seize up when injected with nerve poison, and we're shockingly, shockingly simple to kill.