Happy New Year!

Thank you all, all of you, for 2008. I could not have envisioned a better year if I had been able to plan it all out for myself in advance.

I have tried putting a year-end thank-you to verse, but it was all just too trite and nasty, not representative of the deep gratitude I feel toward so many of you. So, consider yourselves the ones who left Cuttlefish speechless. And instead, I’ll just post a few pictures for you. None are remarkable for any reason other than that I took them. I was there. Finally. And some of you reading know that I could not have done that without you. So… completely inadequately… thank you.

So very much.

And have a great 2009!

I just realized that an unusually substantial number of my memorable moments of 2008 occurred in Hotels. Not that unusual, given the amount of time spent living in them this year, but still… so if you are one of the people who crossed paths with me in a Hotel, consider yourself doubly thanked. New York, Chicago, Sofia, Bourgas, Thessaloniki, Delphi, and especially Athens. And I am sure I am forgetting some. I love you all.

(click pics to moderately embiggen)

Chicago (not my favorite view, but the best I have a pic of):

A close-up of a Greek vase...

My favorite statue:

I love this shot--a column from the Athens agora:

The back view of the Parthenon. No photo will ever do it justice.

A simple pot... but it was the casket for an infant. I can't imagine being the parent... or the person who found it.

The size of these columns simply does not come across in photos.

The changing of the guards in Athens. A beautiful ceremony--of course, in the past few weeks there have been protests here.

The theatre at Epidaurus. Acoustically perfect; I could hear every word spoken from where I took this pic. Standing where the speaker is standing, it sounds like you are in your own bathtub. You hear yourself perfectly. An amazing place.

Nafplion. I can't do it justice, so I will just post one image. The water is bluer, the mountain is higher, the everything is everythinger...


I think I'll cut this short here--I took (literally) thousands of photos, but I suspect evil spirits will prohibit me from posting all of them on this post. More later... or perhaps sooner, one never knows. These shots are reduced in quality, but some of them (I don't think any of this post's) I use as desktop images in their higher resolutions. Anyone who wants anything here in hi-rez, just ask.

The Year In Cities

I am not one to often do memes
(It's just so hard to rhyme them, it seems)
But this one I'll try
Cos the year that's gone by
Has been better than even my dreams!


So, Chad Orzel at Uncertain Principles (love that dog!) propogates a meme: list the places where you spent at least one night in 2008 (other than home). Any other year, I would be too depressed at how short a list it was, to actually post it. This year?

Chicago

(Greece)
Athens
Nafplion
Olympia
Delphi
Kalambaka
Thessaloniki
Ouranoupolis
Kerkini

(Bulgaria)
Sofia
Veliko Turnovo
Varna
Bourgas
Plovdiv

New York City
Canastota, NY


Yeah, next year is gonna suck, but I have my memories... So, where did you go this year?

The Digital Pack-Rat, Vol. 8

Evangelists were happy for the economic downturn--it drives people to religion! Gee, it's almost like their god makes people miserable so that they can turn to... him for help?

It's nice sometimes, to pray for God
To intervene and save us;
So gather all together and
Sing praises to His name!
It's nice to be reminded by
These troubles that He gave us;
If God did not exist--why, then,
Just who'd there be to blame?

(oh, yeah, that's right... atheists.)


And Pat Boone voiced a public opinion about... really, who cares? It's Pat Boone!

I never, ever liked Pat Boone
The man has evil in his soul;
And not cos he's a whackaloon,
But what he did to Rock and Roll.


Now that South Carolina's license plates will no longer be able to say "I believe", the residents may have to go back to expressing themselves through their cars in other ways.

My grandfather's caddy tells anyone looking
He's chock-full of ignorant hate;
The frame says "what would Jesus do?"
The plate says B- IR8

Our preacher, he told us he once saw a car
With blasphemy there on the tag--
The license plate read I4NIC8,
So he knew it was owned by a fag

All I want is a customized license
To hang from the back of my truck,
Expressing my hatred of science and schooling--
It says "I'm a dumb stupid fuck"


The power went out at Cuttlehouse for about 4 days. What wonderful things battery-powered radios are--why, if god had not given them to us, we'd have had to invent them ourselves!

Stuck in the dark, with the radio on,
I heard the AM preachers;
I never knew that atheists
Were such appalling creatures!
The godless have declared a war
On all of god's creations--
This Christmas, we must all fight back
(Oh, yes... and send donations.)


Rick Warren paints us a beautiful picture of Eden, complete with dinosaurs and humans living together. It's... inspirational.

In the Bible, they'd have you believe
That the serpent taught Man to deceive.
It was no bitten apple
But a dinosaur's grapple--
Leviathan did it with Eve!

Yes, Eve, the original madam
Was cheating on poorly hung Adam
When it comes to good sex,
A Tyrannosaur's Rex
As she found out the moment she had 'im!

Though it cast them from Eden to Earth, it
Made Eve full of unending mirth--It
Spawned giggles and sighs,
And her faraway eyes
Had the look that just said "It was worth it."

And you think *I'm* obsessive!?!

...just in case any of you have any free time at all (I currently do not--5 big projects all with the same due date: this Wednesday), I thought I'd share a great place to get completely lost in productive obsessive-compulsive behavior.

Ok, you might have noticed I have a tendency to write things in verse. Just a bit. Once in a while. But it's not like I have decided to, say, write the entire unabridged dictionary in Limerick form. In good limericks, with proper rhymes and anapest meter and peer review. And (I'm sure there is an appropriate Douglas Adams phrase here, but as I said, I am busy) alphabetically. It began in 2004 (from an idea hatched in 2003), and has made it to the early D words so far. I have contributed about a hundred, but only just over half of them have passed peer review so far; these people are strict. And they are good. And they are obsessive! There are authors with thousands of approved limericks!

So if that sort of thing tickles your fancy, pop over and give it a try! Or, if you just need a definition for something... in limerick form... for a word that begins DA or earlier... they probably have it.

Some of mine from the site:

cuttlefish by Cuttlefish

The cuttlefish: squid-like, you think?
Just a cephalopod in the drink?
Then you also should know it
Refers to a poet,
Or any who hide in their ink.

browse by Cuttlefish

As I browsed through the books I'd requested,
The librarian had me arrested!
I cried, "Surely you've read
Francis Bacon, who said
That some books should be chewed and digested!"

"Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested."
—Francis Bacon, Sr. (1561–1626)

brevity by Cuttlefish

The OEDILF takes the planet by storm—
Some day soon, we will find it the norm!
Words explained in great brevity
(Brief) and with levity—
Defined in the limerick form!

(oh-DILF)

braised by Cuttlefish

The little 4-H-er was praised
For the beautiful calf she had raised.
The judge said, "It shows
That you love Elsie Rose."
"Oh, I will", said the little girl, "braised."

Elsie Rose will be browned in fat and then simmered in a closed container.

chromium steel by Cuttlefish

She's a robot; she doesn't look real,
But she still has a certain appeal:
She has silicon eyes
And molybdenum thighs
And an ass made of chromium steel.

In 1921, when Karel Capek introduced the term robot, robots were assumed to be humanoid in appearance. Things have changed; most modern robots are not humanoid, and the term chromium steel has been replaced by stainless steel, referring to corrosion-resistant steel containing chromium content of at least 10.5% by weight.

chromatophore by Cuttlefish

Look again, and you might doubt your eyes:
It's the cuttlefish, cloaked in disguise!
What's its trick? There, within
Its remarkable skin
Are chromatophores, changing in size.

Chromatophores—cells, containing pigments, that can contract or dilate—are responsible for the amazing and ever-changing appearance of the cuttlefish. Cuttlefish make chameleons look like rank amateurs.

Beautiful!!!

Much too busy to write right now. But I thought I'd share this beautiful new Digital Cuttlefish!

Now all I have to do is decide how to use it! New banner? Signature? I have to do something, so it is familiar when it graces the cover of volume 2, whenever that comes out! Any of you artistic types out there, feel free to suggest anything!


Once again, image by the incomparable Michael McRae. Click to embiggen (um... it embiggens quite a lot. Sorry.)

Happy Christmas To All Of You (From Your Atheist Friend)

I just got a nice "Merry Christmas" this morning
From someone who calls me his "atheist friend";
He jokingly added, as if for a warning,
His greeting was truly not meant to offend.

He assumed that an atheist hated this season,
Or else he was joking, or just didn't see;
He was wrong, though, that's certain, whatever his reason--
Cos Christmas is really quite special to me:

We’ll all open presents, and cook a big dinner,
And share in traditions we learned long ago
But Christmas is different for this humble sinner,
No “birth of the saviour”, just people we know.

It has nothing to do with a babe in a manger
Or kings being led by a star up above,
But rather in family, friend, and in stranger,
In kindnesses done for the people we love.

A spirit of hope, and a spirit of giving,
A promise of peace in a troubling day,
A chance to examine the way we are living--
The courage to say what we’ve wanted to say.

You don’t need to think there’s a god up above you
To want to be good to your fellows on Earth.
To give to your friends, and to tell them “I love you”
Has nothing to do with some son of god’s birth.

For love, and for giving, we say “tis the season”
For caring, for kindness, for sharing good cheer
But why limit ourselves? I mean, what is the reason?
Why can’t we be giving the rest of the year?

This Christmas, my wish for each sister and brother,
To you, and to everyone you may hold dear;
Remember, this Christmas, to love one another—
Not only this season, but all through the year!

I'll happily send him my own Christmas greeting,
And wish him a good one, and Happy New Year,
And hope he remembers, so next time we're meeting
He'll talk as he wants to, with nothing to fear.

Happy Cephalopodmas!

It's still plenty of time till the plunder--
I mean "morning of childlike wonder"
But it's such a big Earth
That, for instance, in Perth,
It's already Christmas Down Under.

(I have recently been accused of being too snow-focused this squidmas, what with the song lyrics and all. So here's a special Cuttlemas greeting for my dear friend Podblack Cat, for whom it is already tomorrow!)

Cuttlefish!

Ah... XKCD has done it again!
(and of course my formatting screws it up--click image for the full comic!)




A cuttlefish learns, so amazing quickly,
And oh so incredibly much—
We’ve figured out chemistry, quantum mechanics,
Biology, Physics, and such;
We could, if we chose to, go traipsing through wormholes
To galaxies light-years away;
But frankly, there’s something more baffling to study,
And that’s why we’ve chosen to stay.

These rather unusual featherless bipeds,
So noisy, so smelly, so strange—
It seems they can learn, or at least they respond
To contingencies which we arrange.
They learn rather slowly, it must be admitted;
It could be their brains are quite small.
And given their habits, the evidence tells us
Some probably don’t learn at all.

They somehow invented some horrible weapons
Which all thinking beings should fear
They constantly threaten complete devastation—
I’m rather surprised they’re still here!
They keep dumping poison in lakes or in rivers
Where others get water to drink—
Although this is senseless, and foolish, and stupid,
I still believe some of them think.

They’ve hit upon something that multiplies thinking,
A process they like to call “science”,
Where each person builds on the other ones’ progress
Like standing on shoulders of giants.
Some say these “humans” are smarter than cuttlefish;
I won’t be taking that bet!
But maybe—just maybe—with science to help them,
These humans… they might make it yet.

Christmas Song, Revisited (sheet music!)

Ok, so in putzing around trying to find a way to put music here, I found a wonderful way to procrastinate! Finale NotePad has a 30-day trial period that is fully functional--with enough patience, a non-composer like myself was able to pretty much get my song down the way I hear it in my head... and a few other ways besides! (I did it the easy way--wrote it in C, then cut and pasted it into G, which apparently is the key I sing it in.) I think the Finale people have a place where they host people's compositions, so perhaps I will put mine there, but I wanted (mostly for Kevin and Glenn, who asked) to put up the music before it is too late. Of course it is not quite the arrangement I hear, but I finally figured out what that arrangement would be--there is an album by jazz trumpeter Chase Sanborn, a small group with a woman vocalist; that is the sound I hear this song in. Oh, well.

This is just the main body of the song--the intro isn't finished (I may edit it in later). Click for a more readable size. (UPDATE: In the comments, a PDF of the song, courtesy of the kind and talented AnthonyB.)





Oh, yeah, the other verses again:

(actual song)
Christmas is the time when I can say to you “I love you”
Kiss you if the mistletoe is hanging right above you
All through the year,
my friend we’ve grown near
And now when I see you this Christmas, it’s clear

(chorus)
I want to be more than friends this Christmas
I want to be closer than ever before
I want to be more than friends this Christmas
That’s what this Christmas is for.

Christmas is the time to cuddle up beside the fire
Feel the kind of love that only Christmas can inspire
Outside there’s snow,
but in here, a glow
And I’m warm when I’m with you, and that’s how I know:

chorus

Christmas is the time to hear the carols sung so sweetly
Let the magic of the season fill your heart completely
Love is brand new,
and wishes come true
I’ve just one wish this Christmas, and that wish is you:

chorus

Christmas is the time to walk the snowy world together
Face the coming year as boldly as we face the weather
Come and be strong
and join in my song
And the love that is Christmas can last the year long

chorus

The "War On Christmas", Explained.

So it’s Christmas—my Christmas—my secular day;
The Supreme Court decided it must be that way.
As a secular holiday, Christmas can stay,
With department-store Santa Claus, there on display,
Or with Rudolph, or some other TV cliché,
And your photograph taken in front of the sleigh.

If you want, you can use this occasion to pray;
Even atheists know such behavior’s okay—
Just as long as you don’t expect me to obey,
And admit that your version of Christmas holds sway;
The establishment clause means I don’t have to play
By your rules, because every belief gets its say.

If you really think Christmas is in disarray,
That it’s war, and it’s time to make somebody pay,
Then I humbly submit, you’ve been led far astray
By some ignorant pundit who airs his dismay
By the grace of that same First Amendment that “they”
Get to hide behind, here in the U. S. of A.

Why, You've Grown A Whole Foot!

One of the wonderful things about babies
Is counting each finger and toe,
And seeing the miniature fingerprint whorls—
Each one is unique, as you know.
The joy’s universal, or so I would hope;
I don’t think I need to explain.
But no one expects to find fingers or toes
On a foot growing in your kid’s brain!

But three-day-old Sam is a miracle baby;
Mom sees him smile and laugh—
He’s cuter than any one kid ought to be;
He’s cute as a kid and a half!
His story, first told to a small, local paper
Has now hit the public arena;
They don’t say they’re looking for names for the foot
But the natural choice is “Athena”

A Critical Examination Of Belief

I noticed something while grading yesterday--a student had found that our class topic had presented some challenges to his belief system. Our topic often does that. He decided to write his final paper on those challenges, and to see whether the two positions might be made more compatible. (Of course, the possibility that one or the other was simply wrong did not make an appearance in his paper.) He examined the evidence to see why people would believe our topic, but apparently did not feel that he had to make any similar justification for his own belief, beyond "I believe in God". I must admit, I have to wonder a bit about the strength of a belief that is never subjected to inquiry. I would love to see the same amount of work put into the other half of his paper, the one that should begin "I believe in God, for the following reasons..." But I suspect I know the answer.

This verse is not about him.


I’ve examined evolution, and I think I understand
Though the evidence is shaky, still I think the theory’s grand
But it’s only just a theory, so it’s only just a start
And an open-minded person should try picking it apart.
No belief without a reason! Give me proof of what you claim!
And the more I look, the more I see the evidence is lame!
When considering a tangled bank, I choose to see God’s Laws
And the reason I believe it? Just because.

Charles Darwin drew a picture of an ever-branching tree
From the earliest of creatures all the way to you and me
Other limbs produced the fishes, beetles, lizards, monkeys, ants,
Paramecia, bacteria, creationists and plants;
He supported it with evidence of every kind he could
Which I’ve critically examined, as a thinking person should;
Now I know that he’s mistaken in the picture that he draws
And the reason I believe it? Just because.

If you analyze it critically, as science says we must
You’ll find laws of physics broken, so the theory is a bust:
The second thermo-something law is busted into pieces
By the fact that evolution means that entropy decreases!
And random changes couldn’t make the creatures that we find,
So the evidence is clear, that we cannot be un-designed!
With castles out of playing-cards and armies made of straws
There’s the reason I believe it: Just because.

Now, with Darwin and his evolution clearly in the tank
There is only one alternative, if I am to be frank;
That’s the theory found in Genesis, the Holy Word of God,
And with natural selection out, creation gets the nod.
But we can’t be disrespectful to our deeply held belief,
So our critical examination, this time, must be brief
There’s no clothing on this emperor, not even filmy gauze—
But the reason I believe it? Just because.

Sure, the logic may be iffy, and the evidence is slim—
Who created the creator? And then, who created him?
Why the Genesis creation? Why not something else instead?
Can we guarantee the story is exactly what God said?
Is it literal or metaphor, or maybe outright fiction?
What’s the proper course of action when we find a contradiction?
I’m ignoring any nagging doubt within me where it gnaws
And the reason I believe it? Just because.

If I’m right, I go to heaven, which I’d really like to do
But I’ll go to hell for sure if I suspect that it’s untrue
It’s a simple little wager, there’s no reason to think twice:
You get punished if you’re naughty, you get presents if you’re nice
From the guy who watches all of us, from there behind his beard
(And who cares if it’s millennia since last time he appeared?)
And so, even if it’s really just a grown-up’s Santa Claus
Well, the reason I believe it? Just because.

A special place in Heaven...

My apologies in advance...

There’s a special place in Heaven
(‘cept it doesn’t quite exist)
For the special, special people
Like the first I ever kissed
Or the ones who always volunteer
For nasty, smelly work,
Or who yield the proper right-of-way
And not just be a jerk
There’s a special place for people
Who repair the power wires
(So that blogger poets now can post
Instead of tending fires)
But the finest place in Heaven,
If you’d like to take a look,
Is reserved for all the people
Who decide to buy my book.


Ha! Didn’t quite expect that ending, did you? This is just a little reminder—the turnaround time was really fast when I ordered mine, so my guess is there is still time before cephalopodmas to order them to tuck into stockings, g-strings, and the like. Or, if you prefer, just put it on your list, so that somebody who loves you very much can express her or his love in the way that only a paperback volume of rather odd verse can. And remember—if you buy it with your Solstice gift money, you will have the Evolutionary Biology Valentine’s Day Poem in your hot little hands in plenty of time to be ready to serenade that special someone who cuts quite a striking figure in a white lab coat.

It Could Be Much, Much Worse

It's been four days, so far, without power
And our moods are still cheerful, not dour
But this powerless stint
Makes my co-workers hint
That I'm welcome to borrow their shower!

(the truth is, our wood stove heats water
To the point where it couldn't be hotter
So despite lacking power
"Have ladle, will shower"
Say father and mother and daughter)

A Christmas Love Song (which just happens to be atheistic)

One of the more frustrating aspects of blogging is that you can't do it when the power is out. And the power is out in a six-state region right now. Not a huge deal--just get out the candles and oil lamps, light the wood stove, and you're good to go. Or to stay, as the case may be. I still don't have power, actually. (How am I posting? Magic.)

So once it gets dark (shortly after 4 PM, actually), there is a bit less that one can do. Our oil lamp is plenty bright enough to read by, but all the reading I had planned to do (ok, technically you might call it grading, or marking, depending on your regional dialect) is on my computer--or rather, on my students' computers, to be turned in online sometime between when the power went out 2 days ago and last night. So I was without a lot of what I had planned to read, and what I *wanted* to read was in my office. Oh well.

Once it gets even darker, the most fun is to be had with the AM radio. I was pulling in at least 4 languages (one I did not recognize, but also French, Spanish, and of course American), and everything from New York City to Quebec. Hockey games, basketball, Billo's replacement, local talkers who think the way to make it big is by pretending to be conservative, irate, and obnoxious... and of course, religious stations. Once again, I was reminded that there is a war on christmas going on. Without a trace of the merest hint of an inkling of a nod toward the pagan origins of a solstice celebration, I was chastised to remember the true meaning of christmas... excuse me, the True Meaning of Christmas.

So I am taking it on myself again to fire another salvo for the side of the righteous (or the rational) in the war. Dammit, I will not celebrate the True Meaning of Christmas, because I prefer the true meaning of christmas--this season, to me, is a time of love, of giving, of caring... and as an atheist, I will cruelly and heartlessly love my neighbors, support them in these trying times, and genuinely care, all without so much as a mention of the birth of god's chosen human sacrifice.

This time, a love song. I was trying to write something else, when I realized I had just written the intro to a song I had had kicking around for some time. This is a real song, and a beautiful one if I say so myself, in 3/4 time (except the intro/outro which are in 4/4); I have chords and melody for it and everything, except that I don't have the ability to write music for posting here. Sorry. You'll just have to take my word for it.



(intro)
The stories told this time of year
To bring us hope, or joy, or cheer—
Who cares if, really, none of them are true?
The season brings the shortest days
And with the sunlight’s dying rays
The longest nights, that I can spend... with you.

(actual song)
Christmas is the time when I can say to you “I love you”
Kiss you if the mistletoe is hanging right above you
All through the year,
my friend we’ve grown near
And now when I see you this Christmas, it’s clear

(chorus)
I want to be more than friends this Christmas
I want to be closer than ever before
I want to be more than friends this Christmas
That’s what this Christmas is for.

Christmas is the time to cuddle up beside the fire
Feel the kind of love that only Christmas can inspire
Outside there’s snow,
but in here, a glow
And I’m warm when I’m with you, and that’s how I know:

chorus

Christmas is the time to hear the carols sung so sweetly
Let the magic of the season fill your heart completely
Love is brand new,
and wishes come true
I’ve just one wish this Christmas, and that wish is you:

chorus

Christmas is the time to walk the snowy world together
Face the coming year as boldly as we face the weather
Come and be strong
and join in my song
And the love that is Christmas can last the year long

chorus

(outro)
The stories told this time of year
To bring us hope, or joy, or cheer—
Who cares if, really, none of them are true?
The season brings the shortest days
And with the sunlight’s dying rays
The longest nights, that I can spend... with you.

A Few Pics, And Thoughts, From Greece

In the shadow of Mt. Olympus is Dion, the site of ... well, of a great many ruins, now. Once, the site of temples, steam baths, an amphitheater, shops, houses, a thriving and important community, where the religious sanctuary was the center of everything. Later, because it had a constant supply of spring water, fed by the slopes of Olympus, both Philip of Macedonia and his son Alexander (later, Alexander the Great) housed and trained troops here. One can see places where they tore down buildings, then used the columns as recycled building material for walls and roads. The stone roads have ruts worn in them from chariots and carts; the place feels every bit of its history.

On my visit here, I probably took 200 photos--the site is large and diverse enough that it really looks as if I had visited three or four separate places. The shots here are from the Sanctuary of Isis, once a place of worship, now a place of frogs, fish, and turtles.

Once there was a temple here
With marble columns gleaming white
Once the gods themselves looked down
Upon these altars with delight.
Olympus climbs into the clouds
And mortals look up from below—
The hidden summit must have gods,
We do not just believe—we know.

But gods, it seems, are mortal too
And gods must die, as must we all
And temples, without gods, decay;
Abandoned columns soon will fall.
The people leave; the waters rise;
What was a marble floor, now grass;
The sunken statuary gaze,
And dumbly watch millennia pass.

Once the gods were worshipped here
Today the rulers here, the frogs
Control the fate of damsel-flies;
Athena’s columns for their logs.
The gods, it seems, cannot stop time
And Zeus himself must lose his crown
The land gives way to fish and frogs…
And turtles all the way down.

"I got a word what rhymes wit you"

That sentence, or its functional equivalent, was in a Tarzan book. I read them voraciously, some 30+ years ago. Good moral advice; good stories; good skepticism of motives. In this case, the person who was to be rhymed was named Bubanovitch, if memory and spelling serve.

The rhyme today comes from Illinois. Governor Blagojevich is in hot water of his own cooking.

Gov. Rod R. Blagojevich of Illinois was arrested by federal authorities on Tuesday morning and charged with corruption, including an allegation that he conspired to effectively sell President-elect Barack Obama’s seat in the United States Senate to the highest bidder.

His backup plan was to take the seat himself.

“If I don’t get what I want and I’m not satisfied with it, then I’ll just take the Senate seat myself,” the governor said in recorded conversation, prosecutors said.

A 76-page affidavit from the United States Attorney’s office in the Northern District of Illinois says Mr. Blagojevich (pronounced bluh-GOY-uh-vich) was heard on wiretaps over the last month planning to “sell or trade Illinois’ United States Senate seat vacated by Pres-elect Barack Obama for financial and personal benefits for himself and his wife.”

Greedy Bastard.

That sonovabitch Blagojevich
Had thought he’d found the perfect pitch
He thought he’d sell a precious toy
But ran into a little glitch

The Guv’ner is a naughty boy—
He puts the “ill” in Illinois
He looked for payment, ere he’d choose
A worthy person to employ

But now his tale has hit the news
And no one wants to share his shoes
It’s called a “spree”; it’s a “new low”
Blagojevich now sings the blues

He had the power to bestow
The Senate seat, so dontcha know
Blagojevich, that sonovabitch
Was holding out for quid pro quo.

“And that’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

So, tonight, one of the true traditions of the season...



I’m sitting in a cozy room
With Cuttlekid and Cuttlespouse
We’re watching Charlie Brown again
As custom goes, in Cuttlehouse

It’s not the babe, it’s not the manger
Not the shining star above
I hope that Linus would approve,
But Christmas is for those we love

I have no need for heavenly host
I have no need for newborn king...
This evening spent with Charlie Brown?
I would not trade for anything.

Why? Ultimately, Sex.

So, PZ posted and linked to this comic:

One interpretation is that our interest in sex is what keeps us from being so interested in everything else... I don't know if that was the artist's intent, but if it was, I disagree strongly.


It seems to me, the reason for
Invention, Industry, or War
Or Art, or Medicine, or more
Is... horny folks who want to score.

Society, at every scale
From broadest brush to fine detail
Is motivated, without fail
By peacocks looking for some tail.

We've instituted education;
Used it as our firm foundation
Building up the strongest nation--
Freud would call it "sublimation"

Darwin, in his own dissection
Took it in a new direction--
If I'm right in recollection,
Called it sexual selection!

It's not enough to flex some pecs
Or write big numbers on your checks
The mating dance has grown complex
But everything comes down to sex.

Our species has a lot of pluck--
It did not thrive because of luck,
Or cos some god took aim and struck--
But just because we like... something...





Shameless plug... buy my book....

Ok, I did not expect this...

Ok, so... about a million years ago, when Enzyte was in court on false advertising charges, I wrote a little ditty I called "The Enzyte Song (The Biggest Dicks Of All)". It was not flattering. It spoke of the $100 million fraud charges against Smilin' Bob et al., and concluded that the Enzyte manufacturers were "the Biggest Dicks of All".

Since that post, I have, to my chagrin, had a certain fairly substantial portion of my blog hits come from searches for "biggest dicks"; I doubt that many of these people have been looking for my song. I think, actually, that "biggest dicks" ranks perhaps fourth in all search terms. The first three may be variations on "digital cuttlefish".

Anyway, I was a bit surprised, this evening, to find a hit to my blog that originated from a site run by the Enzyte folks themselves. Seems they collect all the stuff people say, and keep it on their site. No idea whether it is an automatic process, a point of pride, stupidity, or what.

I took a screenshot, just in case you didn't believe me:


Anyway, on the off chance that somebody reading this is thinking of laying some money down for these worthless tablets, let me suggest spending the money on flowers, or a night out, or renting her favorite movie. Or if you want to seem sensitive and really really smart, how about buying a book of verse instead--say, The Digital Cuttlefish, Vol. 1. Read her the Evolutionary Biology Valentine's Day Poem. Thank me later. (Yeah, you could just print it off, but it is so much more romantic to have the book there. Trust me.)

See, right there, you can spend your money on something much more worthwhile than some placebo pills. Now, place your order, turn off your computer, and go spend some quality time actually listening to what she has to say. The whole world will be a better place for it.

Friday Limericks--How ya doin'?

Yeah, I know, I know, it has been a few weeks since the last Friday Limericks thread. It's been a busy time. Still is, actually, come to think of it. So I thought I'd take a few moments to hide from all that, and ask you how you are doing. Better than your pal Cuttlefish, I hope.


If our health is more precious than gold,
Mine's a stock that I wish I had sold;
I have tried to be tough,
But enough is enough!
It's two weeks now, that I've had this cold!

I'm either too warm, or I'm freezing,
And I'm coughing and sniffling and sneezing;
My voice has gone hoarse,
And my family, of course,
Wants to make me feel better... by teasing!

The TV commercials inspire us
To buy stuff to fight off the virus--
But it seems it's not health
They are after, but wealth--
It's my money of which they're desirous!

Now I'm huddled up, drinking my tea*,
Wishing only to be symptom-free.
So, from your point of view
What's it like to be you?
Cos I tell you, it sucks to be me.


*oh, yeah, I forgot to mention above... the Cuttlespouse used the very last of our coffee. Nothing left for yours truly.

Proposition 8--The Musical

The voting is over, but not the debate;
Many say that the voters were wrong--
California, of course, was the scene of Prop 8:
Here's the story, as told in a song...

Nobody Likes A Doom-And-Gloomer...

... especially when he's right.



I watched the nightly business news
(it helped to chase away my blues)
Ben Stein and others helped me choose
When I was buying stocks

The terms I did not know what meant
Did not disturb me, as I spent
On stocks with values in ascent
Or so they said on Fox

The fundamentals still are sound,
Economy’s on solid ground
(And look, our jobs are still around!)
We’re solid as Fort Knox

There was one voice that cast a doubt,
Who said it’s time for getting out
But he was just one single lout
Whom everybody mocks

With grandiose and pompous boasts,
With caviar and champagne toasts
I took the word of game-show hosts
And washed-up former jocks.

The weeks and months, they crept along
I wondered if I’d chosen wrong—
But no, they said—the market’s strong
Enough to brave some shocks

And now my stocks are so damned cheap
I use them now to help me keep
The holes plugged, as I try to sleep
Here in my cardboard box

Atheist Holiday Cards, Part One

Yesterday morning, I picked up the newspaper, and it had the familiar red envelope we have come to expect this time of year, the mass-produced, signature-stamped, highly religious Christmas card from the guy who delivers our papers. We will likely get another from the other paper, and one or more from the postal carriers. Sometimes they are secular, but this one was very very religious.

So, being me, I wondered if I could write something equally treacly, but without citing bible verses. Just for fun.

As luck would have it, later yesterday PZ posted a couple of alternative seasonal cards--for Newtonmas and for Squidmas. They are quite good, actually. I took the opportunity to post the treacly thing I had written earlier that day.

To make a long story short (too late), this post you are reading now is the beginning of an experiment. At least one person (ggab) is planning on doing artwork and making holiday cards from some of my verses, and I thought I might open up the fun for anyone else who might want to join in. So here, and perhaps in some future posts, I will post a few card ideas and verses, and they are yours to work with. If you use them for your own cards, take them as my cephalopodmas gift to you. If you make and use enough to feel guilty about it, there is my tip jar over there to the right. If you go into business and make a bundle, I want a cut.


Anyway, I know that some cards have short verses, some have long, so I just started tooling around with some...

Shorter:

From our house to yours, in this holiday season,
We send out a message of warmth and good cheer—
There’s no greater meaning than love, as the reason
To say Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year.


Longer and really sappy:

The reason for Christmas is bigger than Jesus;
It’s bigger than even a God up above.
The reason we gather together this season
With friends and with family, simply, is love.

The stories they tell of a wonderful heaven,
The myth of a savior’s miraculous birth,
Are mere consolation for leaving behind
All the love we encounter in one life on earth.

More precious, more rare than the greatest of treasures
This life we are living—each one, we know, ends;
I wish you a love even greater than Christmas
And hope you will share it with family and friends.


Longer, with a verse for front and inside, and a bit more feisty:

[front]
As we battle our way through the line at the store
And think to ourselves “there has got to be more”
And wonder where “Christmas of long ago” went,
When the meaning of Christmas was what it first meant…

[inside]
It was stolen by Christians from heathens, of course—
From Greeks and from Romans, from Celtics and Norse—
Why, Christmas is pagan, from yule-log to tree
To mistletoe waiting for you and for me

The meaning of Christmas—the good stuff, at least—
The ornaments, stockings, and “rare Who roast beast”
Has nothing to do with a Son of God’s birth
But rather the changing of seasons on Earth

The nights now grow shorter, the days will grow longer,
The rays of the sun (and our spirits) grow stronger!
So celebrate Solstice, rejoice in the season,
And love one another whatever the reason!


And a very ambitious one for a patient artist:
(front—very dark, with bathysphere, tethered, way down near the bottom, perhaps with lights illuminating a very small area around it)

We can’t trim a tree, there’s no room to hang holly
And a bathysphere doesn’t have halls we can deck
To celebrate Christmas down here seems pure folly
But we had an idea, and thought “what the heck?”

(inside, first)
Much better than ornaments, histioteuthis
Make beautiful tinsel, so that’s what we did
You’d think we hung lights, but the simpler truth is
You’re seeing the flash of the Firefly Squid.

With photophores flashing, they gather together
To send you our greetings from under the sea
It’s beautiful—but—I am wondering whether
The message is really from them or from me!

(Inside, folded—hundreds of histioteuthis [beautiful Jeweled Squid] and firefly squid, perhaps only a few actually in detail, most as not much more than dots, creating a giant “Merry Squidmas!” banner which dwarfs the bathysphere.) (if I had any Flash skills at all, this would work as an online card… if you have the interest, feel free!)

That's all for now--oh, but there is this one from last year... and 2008 is the last year this one will work!

Now, if you'll excuse me, the dog wants to go out...

"More fun than beer and pretzels"

Thanks to reader Ron Sullivan, I have my first review up on Lulu! So, since I am much too modest to adequately promote my own book, I will quote his review, and smile broadly to myself.

I got my copy of The Digital Cuttlefish, Vol.1 via snailmail on Monday, and I'm thrilled to have it. Delivery was a lot faster than the boilerplate on the order form would suggest, and the book itself looks great: sturdy binding, clean readable fonts and layout, striking simply-designed cover with the signature cuttlefish blog banner.

Good thing Lulu did such a good job, because the Cuttlefish's verse deserves the best. This stuff is more fun than beer and pretzels. Joe and I have been reading it over-the-shoulder whenever it pops up on Pharyngula, and now we're picking up the book at odd times and reading random bits aloud to each other when the mood strikes us.

Electronic copies and Cuttlefish's blog are great, but having the actual book to wave at holy-rollers and random passers-by is priceless. Now we're trying to decide who else we know deserves a copy.

I'm happy as a very happy Cuttlefish with a very good reason to be happy...

The Morning After Thanksgiving At The Cuttlefish House

Last night, as I slept, very unlike a log,
Our garbage-can served as a feast for the dog.
I awoke to a smell which I sadly knew meant
That she'd taken a dump on my room's heating vent
(She's a very old dog, very grey in the jowls,
And losing all conscious control of her bowels)
As the temperature dropped, and the furnace went "voom"
The aroma of dog shit enveloped the room,
And I realized, while cleaning up after the beast,
This was likely the work of her Thanksgiving feast.

In a month, the old girl will be fifteen years old;
She can no longer run; she is too often cold;
She is nearly stone deaf, growing gradually blind,
And her stiffening joints have been... other than kind.
For so many years, she's been such a good friend
But on mornings like this, yes, we're nearing the end,
And to thank her for all of the years that have passed
I just clean up her mess (and I clean it up fast).
It's a strange little rite that I go through each dawn,
But too soon both the smell and the dog will be gone.

An Atheist's Thanksgiving II: This Time It's Personal

I have so many people to thank this Thanksgiving--including you, if you are reading this (which you are). If you recognize yourself in the following verses, you are quite right. That's you. If you don't recognize yourself, don't worry--none of it is made up; that verse just happens to be about someone else. One verse actually fits two different sets of people at two different times (once in Sofia, once in NYC); so it is, clearly, about both. The "building which once housed petroleum tanks" is not just there for the rhyme--it was in the Gazi district of Athens, where old industrial buildings have been reclaimed into galleries, nightclubs, and fashionable places to meet.

It is quite heavy on thanking the people who helped me to go, and helped me while I went, on my trip this past summer. I have said it before, but I literally could not have gone without the readers of this blog who pitched in and tucked money in my tip jar. This was the biggest thing that has happened in my life in some time, so yeah, this year's verse is weighted a bit toward that wonderful adventure. It also lacks a proper final verse. I could make up something about how that is supposed to indicate that there are hundreds more to thank, but the truth is I couldn't think of one.

The whole family is under one roof right now, for the first time since the end of Summer. Time is simultaneously so fast and so slow these days; I think I will sign off now, and go enjoy some of it. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate it, and to those who don't, thanks... just because.


I will gather today with some people I love
I’ll thank them instead of some something above
The place where we gather will not have a steeple
And though some of the people might think that it’s odd
I won’t thank some invisible god
Some invisible fictional god

To J____ in Bulgaria, and to D____ in Greece
And to many more—always the numbers increase—
After this, I know travel’s exciting, not scary
So Greeks and Bulgarians, Aussies and Yanks
Are the people to whom I give thanks
And I will, to my dying day, thanks…

I give thanks to my colleagues—there’s so much I owe,
I couldn’t have done it without them, I know
And my travel companions I’ve come to adore
And I know there are more, but I’m drawing a blank
There’s so many more people to thank.
I have hundreds of people to thank

I give thanks to the people who came to my aid
I am still overwhelmed by the difference you made
To G____, who help me to navigate dangers
And generous strangers who reached to their banks
Now they’re friends, and they’re whom I give thanks
With tears in my eyes, I give thanks

I give thanks to my readers, the near and the far,
The new ones and old ones—you know who you are—
There are only a few whom I’ve met face to face
Though I’m still in the basement of internet ranks
It’s my readers to whom I give thanks
Yes, you get your personal thanks

I give thanks to my good friends like K___ and like M____
And the wonderful night that I shared just with them
Though we all knew the sunrise would come without warning
Till three in the morning we talked and we drank
You are two of the people I thank
Two wonderful people I thank

To V___ who’s the reason I went on my trip
And who almost, so tragically, slipped through my grip
We went out for a drink, where I stared like a dunce,
In a building which once housed petroleum tanks
She’s the woman to whom I give thanks
More than anyone else, she gets thanks

Another Atheist Christmas Song (not mine)

Nothing from me right now--getting ready for classes one last time before Thanksgiving. I have so many people to give thanks to, too. With any luck, I will have time to properly do so. For now, though, a little more evidence that the Bill O'Reilly's of the world, with their images of an atheist war on christmas, are living in a fantasy world, a nightmare of their own creation. This beautiful song is written and performed by Tim Minchin, a skeptic, an atheist, an Australian, a musician, a comic, a genius, a husband, a father, an all-around wonderful person... not necessarily in that order. I suspect it captures the feeling of Christmas for a lot of people.

Enjoy.



Oh, yeah, Tim's website. His merchandise might make a wonderful christmas gift for someone... Come to think of it, so might my book....

The War (on Christmas) Comes Early

From the Cape of Good Hope to the Newfoundland islands,
The sands of Iran to the Panama isthmus;
From Outback Australia to Inverness Highlands
It’s time to take arms in the War Against Christmas!

My weapons are mistletoe, Christmas trees, holly,
A yule-log, and caroling out in the snow;
Sleigh-rides and snowball-fights, eggnog and Jolly
Old Santa Claus, laughing his loud “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

We’ll make them forget all the Truth of the season—
The sacrifice planned by a god up above—
And have them believing some bastardized reason
Like giving, or kindness, or caring or love!

I’ll cruelly and callously help out a stranger
Who’s down on his luck or has suffered some loss,
I won’t even speak of the babe in the manger
Whom God sent to Earth to get nailed to a cross;

When the winds of December conspire to freeze us
I’ll help collect sweaters and coats for the poor,
Neglecting to make any mention of Jesus,
Whose torture is really what Christmas is for.

My hatred of Christmas will focus my labors
On weaving an atheist fabric of lies—
For instance, I’m giving to all of my neighbors
Gift baskets, cookies, and fruitcakes and pies!

I’ll say “Merry Christmas!” I’ll say “Season’s Greetings!”
I’ll say “Happy Holidays—Joyous Noel!”
Intending of course, that with each of these meetings
The Truth About Christmas can just go to hell.

The truth is that Christmas is not about presents
It’s no time for songs, It’s not time to be nice
It’s not time for feasting on turkeys or pheasants—
It’s sin, and redemption by blood sacrifice.

No time to be jolly; no time to be merry
It’s time to be solemn, and grim, and devout!
The heathens might find it depressing or scary
But that is what Christmas is truly about.

Yes, Jesus is really the ultimate reason
And Christmas is really redemption and sin;
The war against Christmas is early this season—
For God’s sake, let’s hope that the atheists win!

The Atheist As Scapegoat

Leviticus 16 instructs us on how to properly atone for our sins... it involves two goats and a bull, and specific rituals for sprinkling blood. Trust me. It also describes the role of one of those two goats, known as the scapegoat; this goat basically gets all of our sins cast upon it, then is chased out of town into the wilderness. Et Voila! Sin-free town, God's happy, the people are happy, everything is good again... kinda sucks to be either the goat or the bull, but someone has to pay.

Today, the scapegoat serves a similar function--we blame all our mess on the scapegoat, and vilify it and hope to run it out of town. We are much more civilized now, though; we no longer use a real goat. Now, we blame the atheists.

Seriously. The Wall Street Journal's Daniel Henninger blames the atheists for the economic situation.

It has been my view that the steady secularizing and insistent effort at dereligioning America has been dangerous. That danger flashed red in the fall into subprime personal behavior by borrowers and bankers, who after all are just people. Northerners and atheists who vilify Southern evangelicals are throwing out nurturers of useful virtue with the bathwater of obnoxious political opinions.

Can't blame him, really. Actually analyzing the situation would be difficult. Blaming people like me is so much easier.

Financial instability
On this year’s global scale
Can’t possibly be understood
In every last detail
By educated modern types
From Harvard Business School
With economic data points
And science as their tool.

The modern world's a scary place
With bankruptcies and such;
The thoughtful man suggests it needs
A bronze-age mystic’s touch.
The Wall Street Journal's Henninger
Just makes me want to laugh:
Let's fix the economic mess--
Just sacrifice a calf!

The atheist—a bogeyman
And whipping-boy du jour,
The one who dares to say that work,
Not prayer, must be the cure—
The atheist must take the blame
So take them by the throat,
Lay all our sins upon their heads
Then sacrifice that goat!


As always... Buy my book! Buy my book! Buy my book!




H/T PZ

The Digital Pack-Rat, volume 7

From the upcoming Cuttlefish Xmas Songbook (in my dreams):

And so this is Christmas
So back to the war--
It's time to remember
What Christmas is for
An so this is Christmas
Let's make a big fuss
Cos Christmas is only
For people like us.

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Unless you are godless
Unless you are queer.

And so this is Christmas
For people like me
For Christian believers
Good people, you see
And so Happy Christmas
It's so black and white
Don't say "Season's Greetings"
'less you're ready to fight

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Unless you are godless
Unless you are queer.

And so this is Christmas
So back to the war--
It's time to remember
What Christmas is for
An so this is Christmas
Let's make a big fuss
Cos Christmas is only
For people like us.

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Unless you are godless
Unless you are queer.

War is over when we win it
War is over then



And another nice Cephalopodmas-themed song, but for PZ's Molly nomination thread:

Oh by gosh, by golly
It's time to nominate for Molly
Make it easy, for poor old PZ
To put up an active post

Oh by gosh by jingle
Go nom a bunch, or just a single
Find some writing that's real exciting
The one who moved you the most

Then comes doc Myers
Crowning the one who wins
Who among us desires
To be the person he pins?

Oh by gosh by golly
It's time to nominate for Molly
C'mon, you masses, get off your asses
And nominate a name or two
So that they can... feel better... than you!

[musical interlude, as Cuttlefish runs to avoid inevitable pelting with rotten fruit]

Then comes doc Myers
Crowning the one who wins
Who among us desires
To be the person he pins?

Oh by gosh by golly
It's time to nominate for Molly
C'mon, you masses, get off your asses
And nominate a name or two
So that they can... feel better... than you!


A verse I'd rather not have written, for reasons explained here:

I dunno who Donohue thinks he is fooling
His Haggard expression is easily read
He feigns apoplectic, all red-faced and drooling
But clearly he's curious--you know, in bed.

He's sorta like Eric, a textbook example
Of passion displaced from its natural goal
He huffs and he puffs, but the data are ample--
He wonders what loving is like, on the (w)hole


The "emergence of consciousness" (note that the phrase presupposes an ontological stance different from the stuff from which it emerges, and thus begs the monism/dualism question, muddies the waters we are peering into, and makes investigation more difficult) is the new creationism. If we can somehow prove dualism true (oh, I dunno, maybe by asking extraordinarily poorly phrased questions, then demanding exhaustively specific answers to those questions, and in the absence of such answers claim that this particular bit of ignorance must prove dualism true), perhaps that leaves a little wiggle-room for god himself to "emerge" from the gaps. This was my scribbling on the matter:

At the center of this issue is a three-pound mass of tissue
That can contemplate infinity, or love, or space and time!
In addition to these features, this mass sits in social creatures
That communicate these contemplations (sometimes, yes, in rhyme).
Just how consciousness emerges from sensations, acts, and urges
Is a complicated question, yes, but hopeless? Not a bit!
But what doesn't help the matter is this silly dualist chatter--
See, it doesn't count as science if you merely make up shit.


A leftover from the end of the campaign trail, as each side strove to be more godly than the other:

Just how do these people get loose?
Their attendants can have no excuse!
So, for this year's election
I've got my protection--
Burnt offerings given to Zeus!

They've got Jesus, but I've got Apollo,
And a Pantheon ready to follow!
(could they be so delirious
To think that I'm serious?
There's nothing, it seems, they won't swallow!)

They've got Jesus Himself as their backer
To protect against any attacker--
But so weak is their Lord
They consider Him gored
By a rusty nail stuck through a cracker!


I guess I was in a bit of a mood-even more cynical than usual--when the post on NASA showed up:

Those scientist types, with their heads in the stars
With their dreams of the moon or a mission to mars--
Don't they realize what government spending is for?
Not science, or progress... but going to war!

Those scientist types, with their frets about cost,
With their dreams shot to hell if a robot is lost--
Don't they realize that people are cheap as tin foil?
We spend them by thousands while fighting for oil!


My take on the extraordinarily high level of intellectual rigor defending various people's reasons for believing in a god...

I didn't know what I believed
I thought perhaps I was deceived
By Satan, but I felt relieved
To see through the façade.

I opened up the Holy Book
At random, to a page and took
A skeptical and doubting look
But there, of course, was God!

That's all there was; I took a chance
And gave the Holy Book a glance
Then saw the Truth and took my stance
Because I'm not naïve:

You think perhaps I misconstrue?
You think my thoughts have gone askew?
They couldn't print it if not true--
And that's why I believe!

Throat In A Jar?

The same methodology used to produce
The remarkable “heart in a jar”
Has created a trachea, almost from scratch,
And it looks like it’s working, so far!
The organ was made from the stem cells extracted
From marrow they drew from her hip,
And a collagen shell from a donor cadaver
Whose windpipe was one they could snip.
The trachea, treated with antibiotics
And stripped of its cellular coat
Was a scaffold to seed with her stem cells, to grow
A replacement for part of her throat!
So far it appears her recovery’s perfect,
The part’s recognized as her own;
What remarkable news! No concern of rejection—
It matches… because it’s home-grown!



Wow! This is just so incredibly cool! NPR's "All Things Considered" reports on a trachea transplant success story with a twist--the new trachea was constructed using the recipient's own stem cells!

Doctors in Spain have implanted a new windpipe into a woman whose airway was badly damaged by tuberculosis.

The pioneering operation used a section of windpipe engineered in a laboratory with adult human stem cells, according to Dr. Paolo Macchiarini, of the Barcelona's University Hospital Clinic.

The stem cells were extracted from her bone marrow, cultured, and treated with chemicals to induce them to develop into cartilage, fat, and other tissues.

As the cells were growing in England, scientists began work on an even more crucial step — fashioning a kind of scaffolding out of tissue on which the new cells could grow.

They started with a trachea — a portion of the windpipe — taken from a 51-year-old man who had recently died.

The donor's trachea was rinsed with antibiotics and most of the cells were removed with various detergents and enzymes, a process that took several weeks.

What was left was the shell of the trachea, essentially made up of fibrous collagen.

Yup, pretty much the same process as the heart-in-a-jar.

Over a period of four days, they applied nutrients and chemicals to promote the growth of new layers of tissues, which were composed of the same kinds of cells normally found in the trachea.

The airway was kept in a special container and rotated continuously to ensure even growth.

On June 18, Castillo underwent surgery in Barcelona to have a portion of her airway removed — specifically, the left bronchus.

Surgeons took the newly created windpipe and trimmed it to the proper size and fit it into place near the point where the trachea divides to supply both lungs.

The operation was in June, the report is out in today's issue of The Lancet. So far, all is going well, without the need for anti-rejection drugs, because the body is recognizing that these are her own cells! That's her picture at the top of the post--I bet it wasn't hard coaxing a smile!


Oh, yeah... Buy my book! Buy my book! Buy my book!

Limerick Contest!!!! (not mine....)

First, the contest (not mine), then the limericks, then a silly story.

The contest is here--and here, I suppose, if you want to see the competition. A limerick contest! Better than that--a Darwin Limerick Contest! With prizes and everything! (see links for details, but it is pretty simple--Darwin-themed limericks.)

I have seen what my readers can do; I will be sorely disappointed if we do not capture 1st, 2nd, and 3rd! Well, not disappointed, but frankly, surprised. And that's not saying anything about the competition--I just know you folks are that good.

Anyway, here are the ones I am about to submit, just to prime the pump:


While still a young man, Darwin went
On a trip—and the curious gent,
From the fractions of inches
Twixt beaks of his finches
Inferred there was common descent!

It’s a fact that I cannot escape;
I share habits, genetics, and shape
Though the fact makes me blush
Darwin showed it’s not mush—
I’m convinced that my cousin’s an ape!

The gorillas are angry with me
And the chimps are as steamed as can be
No ifs, ands or buts,
The apes don’t want nuts
On their branch of the family tree

My lackeys, my staff and my minions
Are all of them proudly Darwinians
You see, they compete
For their pay (and to eat!),
Sharing only their fittest opinions!

Yes, I know that the key’s reproduction
And I know of the body’s construction
But as Darwin’s my witness
I’ll give up some fitness
Because I so dearly love suction!

The object of all my affection
Just told me I failed her inspection!
So I guess that this means
It’s the end for my genes—
There’s a downside to natural selection!


Oh, yes, the story... the last two limerick contests I entered. Second to last, I won't tell you what it was, but I will admit, shamefacedly, that it was my goal to win the top three places. So I entered a bunch of limericks, under three different names. Yes, I was first, second, and third. My prize (a mug), though, when it arrived, had a sticker on it warning me that the glaze contained heavy metals, and that it was recognized as toxic by the State of California. Most recently, though, I entered Greta Christina's contest, just under one identity. I won that, too, but just (just!) first place. But the prize.... !!! Much better than a toxic mug--Greta Christina's wonderful erotic comic anthology (I'd give it a fabulous review here, but you'd be surprised how difficult it is to write that sort of thing in verse!--just go buy one!)! So, I could be all superstitious and say it works better not to enter as several people... or I could just be lazy and say it is easier to be one... or I could just say it is much more fun to have all of my readers join in!

I am Charles Darwin

I am Charles Darwin—ninety-nine point nine percent
There’s a little variation that I don’t share with the gent
But we share a common blueprint, which is kinda what he meant
When he came to the conclusion that we’re all of shared descent

I am Charles Darwin—what I mean is, I am Man
I’m a billion trillion accidents instead of One Big Plan
Just a step or two from chimpanzee or from orangutan
Maybe more than distant cousins, but you recognize the clan

I am Charles Darwin—I can’t help it; it’s my genes
We’re mutation and selection, see, when no one intervenes
Like a god with claimed omnipotence, or alien machines
None better and none worse than us, is really what it means

I am Charles Darwin—I was never Eden-cursed
I am just another animal, I’m neither best nor worst
From primordial beginnings, look how widely I’ve dispersed
Such a beautiful idea…Charles Darwin saw it first.

cuttlecap tip to PZ

The Digital Cuttlefish, Vol. 1 (book) has arrived!

It’s the latest in technology, delivered to your door
Like the internet, but portable—why, who could ask for more?
All that Cuttlefishy goodness, but in one convenient book
What a marvelous invention; don’t you want to take a look?

You can take it to the mountains; you can take it to the park;
With a flashlight or a candle, you can read it in the dark!
It’s much lighter than a laptop, so transporting it’s a breeze
There’s no silicon or plastic—nope, it’s all recycled trees!

You could buy one for your Mother; you could buy one for your Pop
You could buy one for your Pastor just to hear him holler “stop!”
You could buy a bunch, and swap out all the hymnals in a church
So they never find “Amazing Grace” no matter where they search!

You could pull one on the Gideons, and place them in hotels
You could slip one to a Wiccan while she’s murmuring her spells
It’s the perfect gift for enemies—the perfect gift for friends!
It’s the gift that keeps on giving—oh, the messages it sends!

Be the first one on your block to place your order—click today,
And the elf and fairy printers will get on it right away!


That’s right; with heart in throat, I am announcing the dead-trees version of The Digital Cuttlefish, Vol. 1, available for purchase at Lulu.com. Over a hundred verses, representing (more or less) the first year of… whatever it is that I do. Just in time for Cephalopodmas, Squidmas, Christma-Hanu-Rama-Ka-Dona-Kwaanza, or maybe somebody’s birthday.

A little help? Please?

EDIT--I think my question is answered--my problem solved--my goose cooked, my pie baked, my stuffing stuffed, my cliche cliched.  I think (*THINK*) all is ok.

But if you want to have fun with it, please feel free; it is entirely possible that I am still speaking out of ignorance, and that I am not done at all, and that I need your help more than ever.  But I hope not.  Nothing personal, you understand.

Ok, this is kind of embarrassing.

Is there anyone reading who is reasonably well-versed in the ways of digital images, and willing to help me?

I am in the final death throes of putting together the dead-trees version of "the digital cuttlefish--vol. 1", and I am out of my depth. All I want is to put a book cover together, using my beautiful cuttlefish picture (Michael McRae, artiste) and the words "The Digital Cuttlefish" in a fairly mundane font (currently, Times CE). And everything I try gets rejected, because I don't have a clue about what I am doing.

In the words of lulu:

Images should be in PNG, JPG, or GIF format
Back Cover image should be a minimum of 300 dpi
Your picture should be about 1838 pixels wide and 2775 pixels tall
To allow for cropping, folding, and variance keep important details 3/8th inch from the edge of the image

I am open to any number of different looks, as long as it loads.  If you need me to send you the full-sized jpeg of my cuttlefish pic, let me know in the comments.

This may be the last step--the one thing between me and publication.  (Full disclosure--it may be that I am an idiot about other things as well.)

As soon as I get one that works and looks good, I'll announce it here so that there is minimal wasting of time.  But...  HELP!!!

A Few Thoughts On Archaeology And Religion

Long, long ago, before “god” was invented
We’d gather together, for friendship and strength
We’d sit singing songs, telling stories and fables
In the gaze of the children, we’d go on at length

The stories might sometimes have heroes or villains,
The tale of a hunt, or a great person’s death,
Practical, sometimes, or just entertainment,
With listeners gathered, all holding their breath

In weaving their stories, creating their legends,
These tellers of tales brought a culture to life
As much as the clothing, or tools, or utensils,
The crudely made bowl, the obsidian knife.

When field archeologists, sifting through artifacts
Pick out some pottery, arrowheads, beads,
Or anything else—it’s a piece of a puzzle—
The job is to see where, exactly, it leads.

If only we could, as we search for the answers,
Uncover the echoes of stories of old
The dusty remains of a song or a story
The remnants of legends so long ago told.

I guess, in a way, we have done this already
But often we don’t know that that’s what we’ve done;
We do see the remnants, the fossils, the echoes
Of tales when our culture was only begun

See, just as the bowls and the knives in your kitchen
Descended from those used so long, long ago
So too, our mythology, current religion
Evolved to the state that we currently know.

The truth is that “gods” were at first just a story
That people repeated like so many more
The heroes and villains are long since forgotten
As well as the purpose the story was for.

A story to tell to the people who gathered;
A tale to enlighten, to lift, to enthrall,
A legend, an epic, a myth, an adventure
But… what is religion? A story. That’s all.

The Digital Pack-Rat, Volume 6

From a Friday Cephalopod post (sepiateuthis australis):

Off the coast of Australia, and not the Bahamas,
Swims a squid in a pair of striped pajamas.
This may seem odd to folks like you
But he thinks your shirt looks funny, too.

From "Purple America", where I thought this image:

... looks like a Rorschach ink blot. Reading the comments, I was right--people saw all sorts of things in that picture, including contradictory analyses of the election. Pretty much what we expect from Rorschach.

Is one explanation the best?
Can we tell it from all of the rest?
We project all our thoughts
On these maps, just like blots--
A political Rorschach test!

From "What is an 'atheist community'?", in which it was reported that Paul Bloom looks to the advantage that religion gives in building communities. Atheists, lacking communities, do not get to benefit from this. Apparently, he looks only at the good coming from community. When we do that, it really does look like atheists miss out.

It's true that the atheist birds of a feather
Don't gather in churches--the more is their loss;
The warmth of community, gathered together
For singing, and praying, and burning a cross.

(oops. wrong example.)

The monks in their abbeys, preserving the writing
Of ancients, when everyone's future was black;
They strove for salvation, while kindly inviting
The godless among them to stretch on the rack.

(dang. wrong example again.)

The New World and Africa, ignorant, dismal,
Called for new Missions, converting each brother;
Heathens were called--they could choose their baptismal--
Christ's blood or their own; it's one or the other.

(crap. I suck at this.)

When people are gathered, they still remain people,
They're good and they're bad, both alone and in unity
You can meet in a bar, just as under a steeple
Good and bad don't depend on religious community.

Lastly... Pat Buchanan uses more decibels to deliver less content than perhaps anybody out there.

My Buchanan doll (I couldn't be prouder!)
Has two voice settings: Loud! and LOUDER!!!
Just wind him up and pull his string;
He'll shout and shout just anything--
When Caribou Barbie invites him for tea
He's happy as a doll can be
They sit and talk and say dumb stuff
Until I think they've had enough.
They really are a funny pair;
When you open their heads, there's nothing there!
As dolls, these two have some appeal--
They'd be scary as hell if they were real.

Friday Limericks--The Week That Was, 7 Nov. 2008

As announced a couple of weeks ago, the Friday Limerick Post is now a Week-In-Review limerick post. Get used to it.

Now, what happened this week? Seems to me something must have been newsworthy...


This week saw us vote for Obama,
And an end to the months of high drama;
Thus I say: About time
I can finish this rhyme
With a full stop, and not just a comma.

I may come back and add some more, but for now I need to do seventeen dozen things I put aside while I had the cable tv political news IV drip in my arm the last few weeks.