They were earthbound; they could not fly; they launched no satellites. One of ’em had a kite, and that was so impressive for the time that we still talk about the ink-stained pervert.
They walked. Or sat atop a beast, which walked.
They had no penicillin, nor even sulfate drugs. The treatment for tuberculosis was to move to a dryer clime. People died of infected wounds, and abscessed teeth. People died of cholera because it was beyond these apes to separate the clean water from the dirty.
For entertainment, they would read to one another, those who could read, or they would bet on animal torture. There was no recorded music because there was no electricity and so sometimes they would play for one another. Not the piano, though. It had barely been invented, and had not yet made its way to the Colonies.
They believed that some humans weren’t human, just property or in the way.
When they looked up, they saw five planets; when they looked inward, they saw four humours.
But, by all means, let’s take their opinions on guns as sacred.