What is disgusting?
When I relate my interest in the fact that fertility falls disastrously if people don’t marry cousins, I tend to get three reactions.

1. There are the mighty of the earth, who by and large take the position, “You are an earnest lad and clearly well intentioned, but do not be concerned.  I do not believe this will ever be a problem.  The population will stabilize.”   
2. Then there are my peers more-or-less, who come back, “Yeah, says who?”  Then I find myself confronted with an attempt to put me down.  I wonder whether they would react like that if I said, “The building is on fire and I think the fire escape is down that hall.”  Actually I am sure they would react the same way.  A few weeks ago I unhappily noticed that a good friend was precipitating a life threatening emergency.  When I warned him, his ego would not let him listen to me (or rather acknowledge my frantic gestures; apparently he could not hear me clearly.)  His male self image would have been compromised.  In the end I managed to turn a disaster into a nuisance. 
3. Then there are those who I expect to acknowledge me as somebody to be listened to; they say, “Marry cousins?  That’s disgusting.”

Did I mention before that Professor Snape once told Harry Potter, “Life is not fair”?

Well being born is disgusting.  I mean it’s worth it, but it’s pretty gooey.  And dying is worse; I’ve seen more of that.  What you do in the bathroom is disgusting.  What you do in the bedroom is disgusting.  What you eat is probably disgusting, as you are either rich and eating too much or poor and eating too little.  (The disgusting part there is that there is food rotting in bins.)  At all events what you eat or fail to eat will probably kill you.

Life is disgusting.

So live with it.

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