I begin with one that took no thought whatsoever on my part; all I did was take PZ's post and translate it to cuttlefish:
Like shooting flies with howitzers
Or fighting ants with mines
John Lynch will take his intellect
And decimate Ben Stein's.
The program claims the topic
Will be "Why Ben Stein Is Wrong".
Condensed, of course--the unabridged
Is several days too long.
No matter how it's edited,
I have a nagging hunch,
It's going to be a long one, so
You'd better pack a lunch.
(Ok, I've said what PZ said
And took so little time--
I wonder--how come Myers never
Writes his posts in rhyme?)
Speaking of cuttlefish, Cuttleson just came back from a visit to the semi-local aquarium; he spoke of seeing a 600-pound turtle, of a huge octopus that "looked like he kept turning inside out"... and his favorites, the cuttlefish. And no, he does not know I write this. I'm so proud... I'd give him an award, if I could...
Ok, maybe not a Templeton award:
Offers his money, with
This little hedge:
Topics appear to be
Variants on the
Those Templetonians... I wish I had the dilemma of choosing between accepting their tons of money or being a good cuttlefish. I could use the money. (I am reminded a bit of Romeo & Juliet--V.i.78-79; see if you can guess the lines before you look them up.) Oh, well. At least others are in a position to question and refuse such generosity:
The goal of that Templeton chap
Was to re-write the scientists' map;
Though they thought it seemed odd,
He would print "Heere be Godde"
Where cartographers once left a gap.
Some scientists, sensing a trap,
Caused a ruckus, or maybe a flap
When they turned down his money
And said it smell'd funny
As if it were printed with crap!
Some others jumped right in his lap
Took his money in less than a snap
So the folks in the first
Group, expecting the worst,
Advised they be tested for clap.
See, there I am disobeying my rules about limericks, too. Oh, well. Could be worse. At least I was not off hiking the Appalachian Trail:
Nothing could be keener than to be in Argentina in the morning.
No one could be sweeter than my little senorita in the morning
When I say I'm camping
The Appalachian trail
Honestly, I'm tramping
With some Argentina tail
Any politician will be hungry for some fishin' in the morning
Lordy, she's appealing, and my rod could have her reeling in the morning
If I had Aladdin's lamp for only a day
I'd make a wish and here's what I'd say
Nothing could be keener than to be in Argentina in the morning!
See, I'd never be able to pull off a Sanford; I am not nearly so technologically savvy. I would never be able to lose my entire staff for a whole weekend (oh, wait--no staff); hell, I can't even figure out having to register to comment at a site:
Only leads me to frustration--
Though I try to do it properly, I always mess it up.
So I'll probably just lurk here
While you people go to work here
And while PZ finds some German beer to overflow his cup.
So I guess I'll read the greetings
Posted from the Lindau Meetings
Though it seems to me my invitation must have gotten lost
I'd report in rhyme and meter
With my German co-host Dieter
But apparently the Germans know... I ain't no Robert Frost.
Lastly... a comment on an unconventional but biblical approach to overpopulation:
With zero reproduction rate, and population static,
There are no ills of over-use; it's really quite pragmatic!
A self-sufficient microcosm, Eden was sustainable--
I don't know why you think this situation's unexplainable.
But since Eve bit the apple, well, we've reproduced like rabbits,
And the world has suffered greatly from our numbers and our habits;
No more a balanced system that could just as well be sealed,
As the writer of your email has so cogently revealed.
A Malthusian catastrophe could surely be prevented
If with zero population growth we'd only been contented;
The population problem is tremendous and complex,
And it's all because, in Eden, we decided to have sex.