Sunday, September 28, 2008

Certificate of Lack of Achievement

PZed reports on an exciting new opportunity to boost your CV, bolster your credentials, and most importantly, hide that embarrassing crack on your wall with a shiny new Official Creationist Worldview Professional Certificate! I have no idea whether there is an actual physical certificate awarded to you, or whether it is cranked out of a Xerox copier or hand-lettered on lambskin parchment in 24-carat gold leaf by silent, solitary monks on the slopes of Holy Mount Athos.

Either way, it's still worthless.

A Creationist Certificate, on parchment or on vellum,
Is the perfect bit of pseudo-bling to hang upon your wall.
Your friends will think it’s beautiful (unless, of course, you tell’em
What it is) because it’s done by hand, calligraphy and all.
Your brain, of course, from frontal lobe to back of cerebellum
Will now seize itself in protest ‘til your prostrate form will sprawl,
As it tries forgetting all it knows about, say, the flagellum,
And your cranial activity reduces to a crawl.

Your science is now up-to-date (that date is Antebellum)
Cos you dropped a bunch of money on a worthless bit of scrawl.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Friday Limericks--a debatable proposition

There once was a scheduled debate
Put in jeopardy, nearly too late
Now McCain says he might
Meet Obama tonight
But who knows? Now we just have to wait.

The topic is up in the air
(It appears that McCain likes it there)
And I think it may be
That the plan is to see
If the public will simply not care.

What's the picture from Europe--say, France?
As they watch as the candidates dance
In this sad pas de deux--
Do they wish we were through?
Does our image abroad stand a chance?

Ok, so it's not a terribly pleasant topic, but there's plenty of fertilizer here to grow limericks. Candidates, topics, delays, crises, views from near and far... have at it!

Thursday, September 25, 2008

The Awesome Power Of Prayer!!!

(With one minor modification, adapted from a comment on Pharyngula.)

With a million fervent prayers combined
It won't be long until you find
The mighty force that lies behind
The simple-seeming prayer.

The "clasp your hands and kneel" routine
Holds powers that are unforeseen
By heathens (and by that I mean
You, too!), but which are there!

So when they say "I'll pray for you"
Remember, it's a heady brew--
The Holy Spirit must come through,
You must already know.

And whether they are priests in collars,
Pastors, Rabbis, even scholars,
Remember--Prayer, plus five more dollars
Will buy a cup of joe.

The Digital Pack-Rat, volume 3

More odds and ends.

First, a recent one, about the defacing of the atheist student organization's sign:

A simple sign, with scarlet letter--
Surely, one could make it better!
I knew I could, and so I drew
A heart, and cross, and "God Loves You".
"Jesus Is Coming"--there, I'm done;
That's much improved, and so much fun!

But now, sit back and watch--I'll bet
Those angry atheists get upset;
They're not content to turn a cheek--
They're uppity, they'll want to speak!
It's just like them, to be so rude...

And that's why they deserved it, dude.

About the attempted pharyngulation of a World Nut Daily online poll:

His minions do as they are told
But even they cannot be sold
On this, and so they'll have to fold;
This craziness cannot be polled.

Perhaps it was a really bold
Idea from a different mold
Or else, perhaps, comedic gold;
This craziness cannot be polled.

Of course, I do not mean to scold
But polls like this are getting old
I think it's gotten uncontrolled;
This craziness cannot be polled.

The World Nut Daily must uphold
It's principles (what? none? that's cold)
With tinfoil hats, and shirtsleeves rolled;
This craziness cannot be polled.

A couplet entitled "I promise, I'll pull out!":

So President Bush, that son-of-a-pistol,
Told Iraq the same thing that Levi told Bristol.

A disturbing post by a disturbed writer, perhaps an attempt at satire, proposed some solutions for what to do about the atheist problem:

A modest proposal, on how to dispose all
The Atheist garbage and haul it away--
Although it's Tom Willis, I think that it still is
A decades-old tactic, the Klan used to play.

It may be that laughter is what he is after
It may be he thinks he's a humorous guy
Or maybe some tumor deprived him of humor
He thinks it is funny.... I just want to cry.

A double dactyl about a (frankly, very cool) wristwatch--instead of numbers, it showed intermediate species on the long road from single-celled organisms to everybody's favorite vertebrate, the featherless biped:

Witchily, watchily,
P.Z.'s chronometer's
Lovely to look at, but
What are the odds

He could get rid of the
Nature's epitome?

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The Digital Pack-Rat, volume 2

Another batch of comments. Again, nothing organized, just collected.

First, when PZ came back from the Amazing Meeting, he decided he needed to wear a hat...

While the women all adore a
Man who's sporting a fedora
There are men who look like idiots with something on their head

Not a porkpie, fez or turban
Whether rural wear or urban
Is the sort of thing I picture looking stylish on P-Zed

When he put on a souwester,
Why, his hair began to fester
And he had to reconsider why that's something that he did

But if I could write a sonnet
To suggest his sort of bonnet
I am thinking, on his head should perch some stylish sort of squid.

Regarding a charming little animated short, showing the trials and tribulations of a pair of octopi and their pursuer, a Chef, as they are chased through a seaside Greek villa...

When the chips are all counted, when everything's done,
When push, they say, comes to shove,
I'd wager against the return of the sun
Ere a cephalopod who's in love.
When the wagering comes to affairs of the heart
(where a cuttlefish, reader, has three)
Then a cephalopod has a boost from the start
(well, at least, it appears so to me.)
Now an octopus (mutant, with only six arms)
Fights for love--for a life lived in peace;
And a cephalopod can find magical charms
When it finds it's in love and in Greece.

I honestly don't remember anything about this one, other than the the post spoke of "Dr. Who meets Dr. Seuss". Maybe that's enough...

If you see Bob, or Sue, or Alex
Tell them to avoid the Daleks
They do not like; they only hate,
And always yell "Exterminate!"
A Dalek kills
It kills for thrills
In Dalek dales and Dalek hills
And here's some news
They hate the Whos
Whichever Doctor you may choose!
From then to now, from now to then,
Doctor Who is everywhen!

I tend not to collect my limericks--too many of them, you see. But this trio followed PZed's admission that he was "oozing slime and fluids like a mollusc"... as if that were a bad thing... and his revelation that he is scheduled for one of the exams people generally don't like being subjected to...

There once was a blogger named Myers
Who confessed that among his desires
Was a peek up his ass
With an brass looking-glass
And an old pair of needle-nosed pliers.

A colonoscopic exam
Is a good way to show who you am
You can lie there and take it
Or take drugs and fake it
By muttering softly "goddamn"

Just back from a trip to Galapagos
P-Zed is now oozing, non-stopagos
That won't stop his blogging--
He just keeps on slogging--
Complaining with each little dropagos

And lastly (for volume 2), a couplet. It really could comment on so many topics, but I don't recall which it actually did comment on.

Wherever two or more of you are gathered in His Name
The odds will rise, the exercise is one of casting blame.

The Digital Pack-Rat, volume 1

Nothing new here--just a collection of old comments, mostly from Pharyngula, that I am putting here just to have them in one place. I should really track down links to the original threads, but not today.

First, posted while I was in Bulgaria, I think--PZ had an actual science thread, on variation in snake populations, as measured in their resistance to Tetrodotoxin. Different snake populations had solved the problem of how to eat poisonous salamanders by selection of different mutations. Very cool.

Mercy me! For goodness' sakes!
Evolving proteins in some snakes
Are letting them make meals of newts
(No, not the kind in business suits,
But Gingrich is a special case,
And this is not the time nor place)
Without the nasty tummy-ache
That signals curtains for the snake--
The newts, you see, have TTX
(Tetrodotoxin) which effects
The channeling of sodium
Through nervous membranes, which for some
Makes Fugu into "Tasty Fish"
But would not be a snake's first wish;
There are three groups of which we speak,
From Warrenton, and Willow Creek,
And Benton. Populations vary
In mutations that they carry,
Also in resistance found,
Compared to other snakes around.
Mutations in the protein chains
Have been confirmed, and this explains
The difference in immunity--
It's quite what you'd expect to see
If such things worked by miss and hit
And not by some Creation shit.


Next, from a while back when PZed was getting email from concerned citizens... in particular the threat that traced back to the floral delivery company... We sometimes forget that emails leave a trail, that can be followed.

I imagine someone cowers in an office, after hours,
At the 1-800-Flowers building, somewhere in New York.
Overwhelmed by the unending flow of emails folks are sending,
With no chance at all, intending for to stop it with a cork.
Once you start to dance or revel, if the fiddler is the Devil
Then there's no more straight and level--you are gambling with your soul;
If you bend to your desires and you threaten P. Z. Myers,
It's your choice to burn in fires, and we'll see you in the hole!


The cracker kerfuffle resulted in (I shan't say "inspired") entirely too many posts, and entirely too many comments:

If PZ is demonized, villainized, hated,
Beyond even Hitler, the worst of the worst,
Imagine how horrible God is, who fated
His son to be crucified (He did it first).
If Jesus, who knew that He would not outlive them,
(Because He was dying, but also was God)
Could say of His torturers "Father, forgive them",
It seems Richard Riley's reaction is odd.
In two thousand years, how those words are distorted--
A message of love and forgiveness? Oh, well....
A nail through a cracker is what was reported;
Now Myers is Hitler... and so, burns in Hell.


More than just the cracker Kerfuffle, there were posts on works of art that somehow also offended the HRC. Jesus with an erection, or a crucified frog...

Why are there so many threads about Catholics
And who's on the other side?
Catholics have rosaries, and Catholics have Mary,
And crackers with Jesus inside--
So they've been told, and some choose to believe it
Like some sort of devious plan
Someday we'll find it--the Jesus connection
The subhuman atheists and man...

Who said that Jesus lives inside of each biscuit--
Who'd say a thing that bizarre?
Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it
And look what it's done so far--
What's so religious it makes us litigious?
And what do we think we should ban?
Someday we'll find it--the Jesus connection--
The inhuman atheists and man....

...All of them under its spell
We know it's deplorably tragic...

Have you been half asleep? And have you heard voices?
And what do they tell you to do?
Is this religious? Or is it psychotic?
And how do you tell 'twixt the two?
I've heard it too many times to ignore it
I'm sorry the whole thing began...
Someday we'll find it--the Jesus connection--
Those atheist bastards and man...


Enough for one post. More later.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Angels and Evidence

PZ notes that Time magazine reports poll results showing that 55% of Americans believe that they have personally been helped by a guardian angel. Yup, that they have experienced an interventionist magical spirit at work. I present the following as a public service, reminding people that just because you don't personally know how you survived an event, that does not mean an angel helped you. Honest.

That time when the limb fell, and just missed your head—
What was it that caused you to duck?
A split second later, you might have been dead;
It had to be more than mere luck!

An Angel, perhaps watching out from above?
Or some shimmering, heavenly light?
The manifestation of God’s perfect love?
An Angel, you say? Well, not quite.

The reticular system, at work in your brain,
Can react without consciously thinking—
Avoiding the accident, saving you pain,
Reflexively, almost like blinking.

This primitive pathway has helped us survive—
Evolution at work once again!
No, it wasn’t an Angel that kept you alive,
But your primitive animal brain!

That time, late at night, you were hit by a car
And were comatose over three days?
Was an Angel the one who looked down from a star
And guided you out of the haze?

Well, no. There’s the lady who called nine one one,
And the ambulance, quick to the call;
Blood donors—seven, before you were done,
And the doctors and nurses and all.

It wasn’t an angel, but dozens of people
In whom you should place your reliance;
There’s nothing for you in a church with a steeple
But rather, in medical science.


Of course there are Angels, all over the place;
There's nothing that’s plainer than this:
Every time you feel raindrops go splash on your face,
Some Angel is taking a piss.

Say what? It’s not Angels, but clouds in the sky?
That’s nonsense, as any can tell!
I tell you it’s Angels that piss from on high—
You cynics can all go to Hell.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Friday Limericks--Vacation is over.

With a moment of deep contemplation
And a wee bit of tasty libation
(Cos Limerick Friday
Must not be a dry day)
The topic is... summer vacation!

The Limerick Friday is back!
All summer, it's been out of whack--
It was resting... on tour...
Having surgery... (sure,
It spent most of its time in the sack!)

But now, summer vacation is over
No more rolling in fields green with clover;
Tell us, what did you do?
Sail the seas, green or blue?
Or stay home on the couch, there, with Rover?

I, myself, had the best summer yet--
Thanks to some of you (I'll not forget!)
If you think that your summer
Makes mine seem a bummer--
No question, I'm taking that bet!

A summer in Greece and Bulgaria
I had dreamed, but now I was there (yeah!)
Six weeks--that was all,
But I had such a ball...
Can you beat it? C'mon...hey, I dare ya!

(special thanks to Cath at VWXYNot?)

Thursday, September 18, 2008


A brief little message to anyone reading
To all of you, near and farrrrrrrr
Today be Talk Like A Pirate Day,
So wherever ye be, there ye "Arrrrrrrr!"

(for those of ye in the Garrrrrden state, get yer java today not from Starrrrbucks, with their measly 0.5 pirate ratio--one syllable out of two-- but from Ahrre's coffee roastery, with a full 1.0 pirate ratio! Besides, it's better! Oh, and ye can order online...)

(no, I am not getting any doubloons from Ahrre...  Consider this a public service for any who love coffee...)

My Fair Maverick

The foreign policy expert, John McCain, has stepped in a little something. But instead of wiping off his shoes at the earliest opportunity, he has chosen to insist that his shoes are clean, and go walking over the nice clean carpet.

Anyone can step in a little something. It takes a special kind of person to stay the course and deny it once the stink starts getting strong.

McCain’s campaign is plainly pained by Spain
Explain, McCain, don’t strain your brain in vain
Complain, McCain, maintain that Spain’s arcane
Abstain, McCain, refrain from staining Spain!

It’s plain, in Spain, McCain has sprained his brain
The bane of his campaign, Spain will remain
His gains will wane—the sane disdain his train
A strain that his campaign cannot contain

(It entertains, I ascertain,
So once again, I’ll pop champagne!)

(No, it does not fit the melody, so don't even try)

ETA: Hmph. Time came up with a similar idea. At least for their title.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

PARTY!!!!! (A)

PZ reports on a story from the Sacramento Bee, about the trials and tribulations of that most persecuted of minorities, the heterosexual christian.

The state of California has new, gender-neutral marriage licenses, which list "Party A" and "Party B" instead of the previously-used "Bride" and "Groom". This, of course, infringes on the rights of Rachel Bird and Gideon Codding (who wish the state to recognize them as "bride and groom"). The fact that they can, in fact, get married, does not deter them. Bird is not eligible for coverage under Codding's medical benefits, nor can she legally take his name; a situation they share with gay couples in the majority of states. They could simply sign the form, or travel to another state and legally be married as Bride and Groom, options they do not share with gay couples in the majority of states. The article does not specify whether the couple opposes gay marriage, nor whether they feel marriage is a sacred institution and a lifelong commitment (it does state that this is the second marriage for each of them). They just want the state to call them Bride and Groom, they say.

I think it is a reasonable request, if and only if other couples can be Bride and Bride, or Groom and Groom, or Person A and Person B, dependent only on the couple's own desires. Failing that, the current gender-neutral language does not deny any right to one group that it does not also deny to another, and (more importantly) the "right" that is denied does not in any way impede their ability to actually get married. The choice is theirs. Again, a situation they do not share with gay couples in the majority of states.

The bonds of holy matrimony
Must be seen as wholly phony
If, instead of "Bride and Groom" (or else, of "Man and Wife"),
It's "Party A and Party B"
(That's plainly not the same, you see!
That's no way to address the one who's going to share your life!)

Our Fellowship (Abundant Life)
Says marriage joins a Man and Wife
Forever as a couple, in Our Lord’s Most Holy View
As is, this form disparages
The sanctity of marriages—
(We ought to know—for each of us, it’s marriage number two)

We cannot enter wedded bliss
With such a godless form as this
A wedding contract, clearly, is between a bride and groom!
This stupid governmental form
Makes abnormality the norm—
A sign of the Apocalypse! A harbinger of doom!

If "Party B and Party A"
Is what the license now will say
The parties are both equal, which is not what God would say!
This new form is a disaster
If it doesn't name me "Master",
And it doesn't state specifically, the missus must obey!


There are some who, even if they tried,
Could not—as yet—be Bride and Bride;
And could not even (yet) be Party A and Party B;
But still I hope that soon, some day
That any couple—straight or gay
Is given equal treatment here… from C to shining C.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Giant Naked Englishman Restored To Life... if you know what I mean...

A couple of reports today (well, yesterday, in Dorset, already) from the BBC report on the restoration of a unique English landmark. A 55-meter giant, wielding a club and sporting an erection, etched in the hillside at the top of a mountain of chalk on a hill in Dorset. The problem is, as it often is, time. With time, the mosses grow, the chalk turns gray or green, the grass obscures the outlines of the figure... It needs a makeover every decade or so--more frequently when the weather has been damper. The process really is impressive (videos available at the links above), as is the fact that these volunteers are carrying 18 tons of chalk up the hill, and 18 tons of dirty, mossy, decayed chalk down the hill, all by hand, a bag at a time.

Each ten (or, sometimes, fewer) years
A team of helpful volunteers
Ascends a hill in Dorset (which is quite a pretty walk)
They’ll haul their shovels, picks, and barrows,
Tamping tools, and rakes and harrows
Helping to restore a giant figure made of chalk

With weather and erosion losses,
Growth of lichens, or of mosses,
Overgrowing grasses now obscure the Giant’s form
So villagers, in long tradition
Set about upon their mission,
Climbing up the hillside, a benign, prosocial, swarm.

The object that demands protection?
A giant, with a huge erection,
Etched in narrow lines of chalk upon the Dorset hill.
He’s fifty meters tall, and nude,
Aroused, it seems, which some find rude
Made several hundred years ago, but gladly with us still.

Some people took a nose or eye
Some others had a foot or thigh
A body part for every volunteer, to catch them all.
Such grueling work, in wind and sun,
It must have been a lot of fun—
Just ask my Aunt Mathilda; why, she says she had a ball!

Sorry, Charlie!

So it seems that... 126 years after Charles Darwin's death, the Church of England is considering apologizing to him. Considering. It is not yet an official Church position, so perhaps we shouldn't get our hopes up. But at least one cleric, the Rev. Malcolm Brown, feels strongly enough about it that he has launched a website to promote the idea.

I guess one must call this progress, of a sort--at least it is not the religiously motivated abject denial of science and vilification of Darwin that we see in (some... most?) fundamentalist churches. But frankly, it seems to me that apology and forgiveness are part of the social interactions of living people. Once someone has died, you have missed your opportunity to apologize to them. There are enough wrongs in the world that really could use addressing--even if it is simply though apology and forgiveness--that muddying up the "I'm sorry" business by apologizing to the dead is not really helping much. Perhaps even hurting--if I can insult you, then assuage my guilt by apologizing after you are dead, that's not a lot of motivation for me to do anything about it while you are still around.

Anyway, just my 2 cents.

When giving an apology
To one you’ve wronged, it seems to me
That person really ought to be
Alive, so they can hear.

The Church of England feels it owes
Apologies, to put a close
To punching Charles Darwin’s nose
For oh so many years

“Our first reaction sure was wrong
But now I’m sure we get along
So let’s just tell the gathered throng
We’re sorry stuff was said”

“And though it’s just a little late,
We think, if you will contemplate
That you’ll forgive us—oh, but wait—
It seems that you are… dead.”

“So we could beg and wail and plead
And ask forgiveness in a screed
But there’s no Darwin there to read
What’s written on our letter.”

And so, although it’s overdue,
And makes no difference, Chuck, to you,
To say it’s worthless is untrue:
The Church, at least, feels better.

If you should spread the worst of lies
And hope to then apologize
And make it count, I would advise
You do it while they live.

But if your true, unstated, goal
Is really to yourself console
Who cares if Darwin’s in a hole?
I’m sure he’ll still forgive.

Monday, September 15, 2008

A Serious Message

After the hurricane, after the flood,
When the story's been pulled off the air,
We mustn't forget that it's time to give blood,
If you have any in you to spare.

1-800-GIVE LIFE (to find where to donate blood)

Or you could Donate to the American Red Cross

Or find another way to help--the Red Cross does not have a monopoly, and it may be that your neighbor needs help as much or more than some stranger.

Just don't waste your time praying.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Lipstick On A Pig...

Coturnix has found a wonderful video--a reporter from the Chicago Tribune going out to a farm to... put lipstick on a pig. It really says so much about the focus the media has on the truly important issues this election season.

Link to original video. (I had it embedded, but frankly it got annoying, since it starts up automatically.)

The other day, when I went out
To give the pigs their slop,
I noticed something quite unique,
That caused my jaw to drop:
My eyes bugged out a little bit;
My brain was doing flips--
For every pig was waiting there
With lipstick on their lips!
It's all the rage, apparently,
Among the barnyard swine;
It's sweeping farms across the world,
Including, clearly, mine.
They still were pigs, don't get me wrong,
Of course the saying's true,
But now my pigs had lipstick on,
In quite a gaudy hue.

Who knew that porcine makeup could
Command the nightly news?
Of course, there would be bickering,
And neighs, and clucks, and moos.
And so, of course, I should have guessed
What I would see today
While crossing through the farmyard, as
I brought the cows their hay:
The chickens were all gathered 'round
And wore, to my surprise,
A sparkly blue mascara
On the lashes of their eyes!
The horses had their highlights done--
One pony wore a weave--
The goats had gotten small tattoos
(They matched, if you'll believe!)
The cattle all had rouged their cheeks
The sheep had pierced their ears...
In short, it was the strangest thing
I've seen in all my years.

The networks want to bring a truck
And put it all on tape;
They say the viewers love this stuff--
It leaves their mouths agape.
They're going to run a five-part piece
(Cos four would be too short);
It's good to know there's nothing
More important to report.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

The Big Bang... or Smush, Maybe...

PZ reports on a really cool new gadget, full of sciency goodness. Fast on the heels of that Hadron thingie that had us all excited yesterday, but didn't end the world after all, comes the Evolutionary Acceleration Research Institute's "Giant Animal Smasher".
The GAS is a 25 mile tube buried ten feet below the surface, and accelerates the animals at rates up to 6,000 meters per second using a series of pulleys, levers and fusion reactors.

Of course, there are accusations of Physics Envy:
One scientist at CERN, home of the Large Hadron Collider, said, "Biologists are just jealous of all the attention the LHC has been getting. Since they aren't real scientists, they had to come up with this atrocity. Next thing you know the psychologists will build a brain smasher to compete."
The bottom line is, scientists like to play God.

Or, perhaps, since we created Him in our own image, it is god that likes to play scientist.

My own take on the matter.... (and I think it is just smashing, if I say so myself)

I picture Young God, on some sort of a dare,
'Cos all of the older, cool gods are all there,
Saying "what if I take all the stuff there was ever
And, hard as I can, smash it all up together?"
The other gods, laughingly, dare Him to try,
And because he's an insecure kind of a guy,
He does it--he wants to be one of The Gang:
And that is what happened "before the Big Bang."

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

End of the World ! (and I feel fine)

Allow me to be the last to tell you... they switched on the Large Hadron Collider.

In related news, the world has not come to an end.

The switch was thown in Switzerland
And protons zoomed around a bend—
Across the world, we clasped our hands
And waited for the world to end.

The scientists at Fermilab
Were hoping there was much to learn—
But true believers everywhere
Were voicing their concern with CERN

The particles accelerate:
When protons smash—what happens then?
Did CERN just push the “reset” switch,
To start the cosmos up again?

The scientists themselves do not,
For certain, know what happens next—
But there are some who claim the truth,
As written in their Holy Text:

The Lord will come—the end is nigh
The saved will fly to Jesus’ side
The sinners will be cast to Hell
So let the particles collide!

(Of course, predictions such as this
Have happened many times before,
And every time—oh, gee, they’re wrong.

Congratulations; wrong once more.)

Monday, September 08, 2008

Eeew--you got real life in my poetry!

Blake Stacey reports on an interesting case of censorship. Most of the details are depressingly familiar: somebody gets a bug up a bum about a poem--in this case, one that "glorifie[s] knife violence". What is fascinating about this case is the author's response. She must really believe that bit about the pen being mightier than the sword (Grand Fenwick notwithstanding), and pens a bit about swords:
You must prepare your bosom for his knife,
said Portia to Antonio in which
of Shakespeare's Comedies? Who killed his wife,
insane with jealousy? And which Scots witch
knew Something wicked this way comes? Who said
Is this a dagger which I see? Which Tragedy?
Whose blade was drawn which led to Tybalt's death?
To whom did dying Caesar say Et tu? And why?
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark — do you
know what this means? Explain how poetry
pursues the human like the smitten moon
above the weeping, laughing earth; how we
make prayers of it. Nothing will come of nothing:
speak again. Said by which King? You may begin.

Not only does it make the point that "glorifying knife violence" is a charge that could be leveled against Shakespeare (for extra credit, can you answer the questions?), she (if I am right) gave a few clues that her first (banned) poem had a few Shakespearian allusions in it, as well. The speaker in the poem says "I am going to play God", and begins his/her killing thusly: "I squash a fly against the window with my thumb. We did that at school. Shakespeare. It was in/ another language and now the fly is in another language." Which Shakespeare is the author speaking about here? I suspect Lear--Gloucester's speech in Act 4: "As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods, They kill us for their sport."

I had two Shakespeare classes in a row once--last semester of High School, and first semester of College. The HS teacher felt the need to sanitize Romeo and Juliet for our protection, to pour oil over the waters of The Tempest, and to turn the emotion down on King Lear. It was horrible. If it weren't for the movies, none of us would have had any exposure to what Shakespeare actually wrote. In college, our prof was the president of the American Shakespeare Society. 'Nuf Sed. Shakespeare without blood and gore, sex and debauchery, bawdiness and foul language, is... is what I had in High School, and it ain't art.

What if "A dream deferred" were seen as incendiary, and removed from classes? What if "Do not go gentle into that good night" were seen as depressing?

What if poetry--at least some of it--ceased to reflect the real world? Why would anybody read it? Why would students?

The world can be a nasty, brutal place;
Each fly, each fish, each person, all must die.
Though some may wish to paint another face
Upon it, should we choose to tell a lie?
“I squash a fly against the window” reads
The poem, but Shakespeare said it first, in Lear:
“As flies to wanton boys are we”—the seeds
Of Duffy’s poem are clearly there to hear.
When poets cannot pen the world they see,
But bend their will and Bowdlerize their poems
The brutal world can never cease to be—
Not in the books, but still in children’s homes.
So… gut the texts and purge the books of knives
Leave weapons in their place: the students’ lives.

update--13 October-- I see a recent upsurge in hits, coming from Google, all from England. Could somebody leave a comment and let me know what's going on? Are people googling for a class assignment? Was the poem in the news again? Just curious...

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Praisin' McCain!

Little Light runs a dog-whistle through a filter, so the rest of us can hear it. I must say, I was wondering what the point of Huckabee's desk story was, let alone why it got such a response from the audience. Now that I know McCain's secret identity, though...

When John McCain was crucified
Er, tortured, in Hanoi,
His actions served to earn a desk
For every girl and boy.

You cannot earn a desk yourself,
No matter what you do;
Be grateful Jesus John McCain
Has earned that desk for you.

So give him thanks; send John McCain
Your votes as well as prayers--
He died so we could all have desks!
(The school board bought the chairs.)

Hat tip to Bora!

Thursday, September 04, 2008

God doesn't like competition.

Via Diatomaceous Earth, via pharyngula, we have a letter to the editor, helpfully explaining the global warming crisis.

Well, folks, here we go again.
First they try to make us believe in the “big-bang” theory; then the “millions of years” theory; then the “we all came from monkeys” theory or even the “sea” theory.

Let’s get into the real solution as to what happened and read the Bible. Genesis will explain how it all was created.

Now for the global warming story Al Gore and others are pushing on us; it’s time to read Genesis to Revelation in the Bible.

When God sent the rain on this Earth for 40 days and nights, all this water had to go someplace so the Earth would be dry again.

Remember, God is the Creator and controls the universe.

God tilted the Earth from its original position and caused all the excess water to rush to the poles, and there he instantly froze the water into the ice formations that exist today.

Time is ticking down on God’s time clock. With all the nuclear bombs that are made and stored for the fast-emerging last battle, this Earth would burn up when these nuclear bombs are set off.

We are not creating global warming – God is tipping the Earth back to its original position on its axis and thus getting all this ice to get ready to move and extinguish the nuclear destructive fires man will create.

Time is running out, folks. Jesus is coming soon. Do you know him as your personal Savior?

Dear sir: Thank you for explaining
How the forty days of raining
As reported in a bronze-age myth, explains the current crisis.
Now I’ll sit and let my brain go
Limp, and thank God for the rainbow
And not bother with what’s happening to all the Arctic ices.
We know water only freezes
Cos it suits the will of Jesus;
In a moment it could all return to liquid H2O.
So when Man blows up the planet,
Time for Jesus, who began it,
To return the ice to water and to let the oceans flow.
To destroy the population
With a man-made conflagration?
Why, it’s blasphemous, if what the bible says to us is true!
Whether flood, or plague, or locust
God’s attention is now focused—
The destruction of humanity is Yahweh’s job to do!