My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the spot
Some mussels have to tell the dark from light;
A complex lens, this mollusk it has not—
One could not claim a mussel has true sight.
I have seen pigment cups for eyes in snails
But no such eyes my beauty doth possess—
To see a light’s direction, sans details
Is not the job of her eyes, I confess.
Nor pinhole lens, nor any incomplete
Approximation of her perfect eye;
No trail of clues to offer a concrete
Explanatory theory to apply.
And yet, all data points to one solution—
The eyes I love arose through evolution.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Monday, May 05, 2008
A Blood-Curdling Cautionary Tale Of Science Run Amok
Genetically, of course, a spork
Is half a spoon, and half a fork
A laboratory in New York
Created them, then popped the cork.
Please, gentle reader, do not swoon,
But there was also, once, a foon
(That’s half a fork, and half a spoon)
Created, sadly, all too soon.
In cutlery, one tempts the Fates
When artificially, one mates
Utensils from across the plates
Regardless of recessive traits.
A careless thought: “let’s cross F-1
Again with forks, and have some fun.”
The simple plan was soon begun,
Then all too soon: “What have we done?”
With thirst for blood and killing drives
Such meddling ends in loss of lives
I only hope someone survives
To tell—the sporks have found the knives!
From xkcd, of course.
Is half a spoon, and half a fork
A laboratory in New York
Created them, then popped the cork.
Please, gentle reader, do not swoon,
But there was also, once, a foon
(That’s half a fork, and half a spoon)
Created, sadly, all too soon.
In cutlery, one tempts the Fates
When artificially, one mates
Utensils from across the plates
Regardless of recessive traits.
A careless thought: “let’s cross F-1
Again with forks, and have some fun.”
The simple plan was soon begun,
Then all too soon: “What have we done?”
With thirst for blood and killing drives
Such meddling ends in loss of lives
I only hope someone survives
To tell—the sporks have found the knives!
From xkcd, of course.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
In His Own Image
They say that God created Man
As part of an enormous plan,
And did so in His image, cos he loves us, every one.
When men of God discriminate
And treat their fellow men with hate
They do so with the knowledge it’s what Jesus would have done.
When righteous men, in righteous ways
Hate atheists, or Jews, or gays,
Or Muslims, pagans, redheads, southpaws, foreigners, or Voodoo
I know at first it may seem odd,
But clearly, you’ve created God
In your own image, when you find he hates the same folks you do.
“You can safely assume you have created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates the same people you do.” --Annie Lamott
(there are a number of versions of that quote floating around, attributed to Lamott—If anyone happens to know the definitive version, I would be happy to correct what I have here.)
As part of an enormous plan,
And did so in His image, cos he loves us, every one.
When men of God discriminate
And treat their fellow men with hate
They do so with the knowledge it’s what Jesus would have done.
When righteous men, in righteous ways
Hate atheists, or Jews, or gays,
Or Muslims, pagans, redheads, southpaws, foreigners, or Voodoo
I know at first it may seem odd,
But clearly, you’ve created God
In your own image, when you find he hates the same folks you do.
“You can safely assume you have created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates the same people you do.” --Annie Lamott
(there are a number of versions of that quote floating around, attributed to Lamott—If anyone happens to know the definitive version, I would be happy to correct what I have here.)
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Friday Limericks: Time
Yeah, I said Friday Limericks. Commenter Anfractuous reminds me that I missed the actual Friday, if you want to be all technical about it. I do apologize--life is a bit hectic right now. I will post about it soon, but a Major Life Event is coming up at the end of the month--it is very very good news for me, but comes at a difficult time (long story short--the cuttlespouse has been out of work since Christmas. Things are ok, but what should have been an overwhelmingly cool thing is a very very cool thing that is also an added stress. And this is a better time than most to thank the people who have used the tip jar.)
So anyway, time occasionally gets away from me. And today being Limerick Friday (work with me here), I shall have my revenge.
Time's an illusion, you know
And lunchtime, of course, doubly so--
It so rapidly passes,
Or slow as molasses,
And where did my yesterday go?!?
The telling of time is an art
Take, for instance, the time we're apart:
That time is not reckoned
By hour or by second,
But measured in beats of my heart.
I remember when days used to last,
And a year was impossibly vast;
It seems yesterday morn
When my children were born--
How the hell did they grow up so fast?
My days, though to say so seems trite,
Seem to pass at the speed of--well, light.
If I only could see 'em,
I'd carpe each diem,
But they so quickly pass out of sight.
There--your turn! Time is of the essence!
Thursday, May 01, 2008
National Day Of Prayer
No, seriously. It's the National Day Of Prayer. Not everyone is happy about it.
It's time to raise our voice in prayer,
And pray to--well, there's no one there.
No god to urge to do our bidding;
Go on and pray--just know you're kidding.
It's time to all sit on our asses,
And pray forgiveness for trespasses
(Or is that to forgive our debtor?
Who cares, as long as we feel better.)
It's time we all embrace god fully,
Feel all righteous, good, and holy--
Or be some atheistic jerk,
Roll up your god-damned sleeves, and work!
It's time to say "I do not care
To join you in this day of prayer."
Sure, a day off looks like fun,
But there is work that must be done.
Our problems will not fix themselves
There is no god to send in elves
To do the work of human ranks
So... join, today, in prayer? No thanks.
It's time to raise our voice in prayer,
And pray to--well, there's no one there.
No god to urge to do our bidding;
Go on and pray--just know you're kidding.
It's time to all sit on our asses,
And pray forgiveness for trespasses
(Or is that to forgive our debtor?
Who cares, as long as we feel better.)
It's time we all embrace god fully,
Feel all righteous, good, and holy--
Or be some atheistic jerk,
Roll up your god-damned sleeves, and work!
It's time to say "I do not care
To join you in this day of prayer."
Sure, a day off looks like fun,
But there is work that must be done.
Our problems will not fix themselves
There is no god to send in elves
To do the work of human ranks
So... join, today, in prayer? No thanks.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
A Guest Post
Commenter Anfractuous, who has previously shown incredible skill with limericks, provided the following as a comment to my previous post. It is so good, I thought I'd put it here on the front page (since not everyone reads the comments--go figure).
Dear Cuttles,
Of course you’re not moral; that comes from above!
Morality’s only for those those in whose glove
Resides a steel rod that will punish the sin,
Which comes from the garden and now lives within.
It’s true because Satan’s words came first to Eve.
Because she was “woe-man,” the one to believe
That she, in defiance, could just disobey
The Word she’d been giv’n on the very first day.
Because she was uppity, thought she could know
What knowledge of evil and good might bestow
Upon her and Adam, cooped up in that place,
Where only obedience’s choking embrace…
Kept them from knowledge that freedom would bring.
If they used free will, they’d cut God’s puppet string.
The meaning of good or of bad was not given,
So how could she know that from grace they’d be riven?
God made the decision to make us this way,
To give us free will so that we’d disobey.
That way he could punish to His heart’s content,
To show us just what His omnipotence meant!
It’s God’s will that we must conform for all time.
He set up the rules and then watched with sublime,
Sadistic amusement, on seeing us squirm.
He knows how remote our real chance to confirm…
His ridiculous rules that we have to obey.
(Besides, His omniscience predicted we’d play.)
So now, by His Rules, your morality comes
From worship of Him, only under His thumbs.
Good works do not count – they’re from dumb libruls’ minds.
They work only IF abject worship He finds
And then only IF you will also excise
Any thoughts of equality for those other guys…
Who might love the “wrong kind,” or those who might think
That women should be anywhere else but the sink,
Or in a man’s bed, though their bodies are evil.
They’re here for their wombs, (but their minds are medieval.)
If men are allowed to observe female skin,
They’ll turn into beasts (their control is that thin!)
But it’s not the men’s fault. That resides upon her.
It’s her evil skin to which men’s minds refer…
In lust and in sin - but just “boys being boys.”
The female form’s only just one of their toys.
So it’s moral to bomb all those places of sin
Where those evil women “do God’s babies in.”
God loves it when X-tians do mean things to gays,
Or lesbos or libruls - set atheists ablaze.
It’s moral to castigate anyone “other,”
But don’t take our guns or make black folks our brother.
Morality’s not what those atheist folks do.
It only comes from a strict Biblical view.
So now you all know how the God system works
If you have any questions, just ask X-tian jerks!
Dear Cuttles,
Of course you’re not moral; that comes from above!
Morality’s only for those those in whose glove
Resides a steel rod that will punish the sin,
Which comes from the garden and now lives within.
It’s true because Satan’s words came first to Eve.
Because she was “woe-man,” the one to believe
That she, in defiance, could just disobey
The Word she’d been giv’n on the very first day.
Because she was uppity, thought she could know
What knowledge of evil and good might bestow
Upon her and Adam, cooped up in that place,
Where only obedience’s choking embrace…
Kept them from knowledge that freedom would bring.
If they used free will, they’d cut God’s puppet string.
The meaning of good or of bad was not given,
So how could she know that from grace they’d be riven?
God made the decision to make us this way,
To give us free will so that we’d disobey.
That way he could punish to His heart’s content,
To show us just what His omnipotence meant!
It’s God’s will that we must conform for all time.
He set up the rules and then watched with sublime,
Sadistic amusement, on seeing us squirm.
He knows how remote our real chance to confirm…
His ridiculous rules that we have to obey.
(Besides, His omniscience predicted we’d play.)
So now, by His Rules, your morality comes
From worship of Him, only under His thumbs.
Good works do not count – they’re from dumb libruls’ minds.
They work only IF abject worship He finds
And then only IF you will also excise
Any thoughts of equality for those other guys…
Who might love the “wrong kind,” or those who might think
That women should be anywhere else but the sink,
Or in a man’s bed, though their bodies are evil.
They’re here for their wombs, (but their minds are medieval.)
If men are allowed to observe female skin,
They’ll turn into beasts (their control is that thin!)
But it’s not the men’s fault. That resides upon her.
It’s her evil skin to which men’s minds refer…
In lust and in sin - but just “boys being boys.”
The female form’s only just one of their toys.
So it’s moral to bomb all those places of sin
Where those evil women “do God’s babies in.”
God loves it when X-tians do mean things to gays,
Or lesbos or libruls - set atheists ablaze.
It’s moral to castigate anyone “other,”
But don’t take our guns or make black folks our brother.
Morality’s not what those atheist folks do.
It only comes from a strict Biblical view.
So now you all know how the God system works
If you have any questions, just ask X-tian jerks!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Can An Atheist Be Moral?
I don't usually have quarrels
Over where we get our morals
Ah, but every now and then somebody steps beyond the pale.
Once they know that I'm ungodly
They start looking at me oddly
And If I could walk on water, It would be to no avail.
When Katrina brought the flood,
I gave money, time, and blood;
When a local kid was missing, I was there at once to search;
I've sent clothing and supplies
To starving Afghans, but--surprise!--
I am not a moral person, cos I never go to church!
There's no yellow ribbon sticker
On my car, because it's quicker
If I send the funds directly to the folks who need it most.
And I work instead of praying,
So because of this, they're saying
My behavior lacks the guiding hands of Father, Son and Ghost.
When "accepting Christ as savior"--
When belief, and not behavior--
When some obsolete mythology determines what is right,
I could feed the starving masses
Cause the blind to just need glasses
Feed the world on loaves and fishes
Give Aladdin three more wishes
Cure the miseries of lepers
And the myriad twelve-steppers,
Cure Ben Stein of his inanity,
Bring peace to all humanity.....
Am I moral in the eyes of Christianity? ... not quite.
Over where we get our morals
Ah, but every now and then somebody steps beyond the pale.
Once they know that I'm ungodly
They start looking at me oddly
And If I could walk on water, It would be to no avail.
When Katrina brought the flood,
I gave money, time, and blood;
When a local kid was missing, I was there at once to search;
I've sent clothing and supplies
To starving Afghans, but--surprise!--
I am not a moral person, cos I never go to church!
There's no yellow ribbon sticker
On my car, because it's quicker
If I send the funds directly to the folks who need it most.
And I work instead of praying,
So because of this, they're saying
My behavior lacks the guiding hands of Father, Son and Ghost.
When "accepting Christ as savior"--
When belief, and not behavior--
When some obsolete mythology determines what is right,
I could feed the starving masses
Cause the blind to just need glasses
Feed the world on loaves and fishes
Give Aladdin three more wishes
Cure the miseries of lepers
And the myriad twelve-steppers,
Cure Ben Stein of his inanity,
Bring peace to all humanity.....
Am I moral in the eyes of Christianity? ... not quite.
Monday, April 28, 2008
More Than Skin Deep...
The New York TImes has a story of the stereoscopic atlas of the human body. With a slide show of some of the images (sadly, not in 3-D). And I am terribly sorry, but the link to the text article is not working for me right now--it is worth the visit, though, on the Science page of the New York TImes online.
Carefully, warefully,
Bassett, anatomist
Dissected bodies and
Prepped their insides
Then called for Gruber, who
Stereoscopically
Rendered them timeless on
Viewmaster slides.
Beautifully, dutifully,
eHuman industries
Hopes to make public the
Atlas once more;
Wonderful news for the
Neuroanatomy
Students, or those who just
Really like gore.
Carefully, warefully,
Bassett, anatomist
Dissected bodies and
Prepped their insides
Then called for Gruber, who
Stereoscopically
Rendered them timeless on
Viewmaster slides.
Beautifully, dutifully,
eHuman industries
Hopes to make public the
Atlas once more;
Wonderful news for the
Neuroanatomy
Students, or those who just
Really like gore.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Dinosaurs, Flagella, Jews, and Haeckel (No, Really!)
How wonderful! Somebody actually noticed my little blog, and thought it worthy of commenting, with links and everything, to a whole lot of wishful thinking! For those of you who don’t read comments, just look at the sort of things you might miss! (You might want to fasten your seatbelts--there are some sharp turns ahead.)
It’s not written in meter, nor rhyme
On these threads, it’s the norm
To use limerick form—
But I’ll let you get off, just this time
Though it’s common, it nonetheless shocks
When a cloud can look just like a fox
Or a man, in euphoria
Digs up sea-zoria
Dragons where others see rocks
(Among your pictures was an Indian lithograph of a buffalo, labeled as a picture of a triceratops. In the words of Roy Zimmerman, “you can call a toad a cocker spaniel; that won’t warm your heart when he licks your nose.”)
It is absolutely true that if you look for dinosaur pictures, you will find them. What is equally true is that if you look for alternate, non-dinosaur explanations for these pictures, in the artistic traditions of the artists, you will also find those. The moral of the story is, don't stop looking for evidence just because you found something that agrees with your preconception. Gather all the available evidence, and then draw conclusions.
You’d think you’d be sitting in clover
Watching videos over and over
But to see there what we see
Find transcripts of Behe
Under oath in Kitzmiller V. Dover
(You gotta love a flagellum. Take out just one part and… well, you have something that functions perfectly well. But Behe did not feel the need to actually look at what it might be. Once he had concluded goddiddit, there was no more reason to investigate. But it’s all there in the transcripts. Very much worth reading.)
So the Jews, in heroic defiance
Of the mainstream, have put their reliance
In books and in learning
Fulfilling their yearning
For knowledge by leading in science!
(your links there certainly seem to show that the Jews are the superior race—no way that anyone could ever suggest that the holocaust was Darwinian if they saw what you report there! No way… and yet…)
The embryos Haeckel did draw
Which seem so to stick in your craw
Are a mere bit of history
Now, a new mystery:
Why battle men made of straw?
Digital Cuttlefish, Ph. D. anonymous blog verse-writer.
Though this comment, of course, is sublime,
Ojalanpoika has left a new comment on your post "Friday Limericks: Expelled!":
It’s not written in meter, nor rhyme
On these threads, it’s the norm
To use limerick form—
But I’ll let you get off, just this time
I wish an analogous documentary film was made concerning the DINOGLYFS or dinolits:”Do you see that cloud, that’s almost in shape like a camel?” HAM, III ii 393
http://www.helsinki.fi/~pjojala/dinosaur.htm
It seems that the ancient man not only saw but also documented the last megafauna (gigafauna, I should say).
Though it’s common, it nonetheless shocks
When a cloud can look just like a fox
Or a man, in euphoria
Digs up sea-zoria
Dragons where others see rocks
(Among your pictures was an Indian lithograph of a buffalo, labeled as a picture of a triceratops. In the words of Roy Zimmerman, “you can call a toad a cocker spaniel; that won’t warm your heart when he licks your nose.”)
It is absolutely true that if you look for dinosaur pictures, you will find them. What is equally true is that if you look for alternate, non-dinosaur explanations for these pictures, in the artistic traditions of the artists, you will also find those. The moral of the story is, don't stop looking for evidence just because you found something that agrees with your preconception. Gather all the available evidence, and then draw conclusions.
Bruce Alberts it was who first accepted from his post as the president of the National Academy of Sciences USA that the biological machinery can be called as such, machinery, without asserting to metaphora. He gave the students that license in 1998. Other animations on the tiny cellular machineries apart from the Expelled movie can be seen in here:Wow--you ought to give a little warning before shifting topics so abruptly!
http://www.helsinki.fi/~pjojala/Videos_animations_flagella_evidence_existence_creation_contra_evolution.htm
You’d think you’d be sitting in clover
Watching videos over and over
But to see there what we see
Find transcripts of Behe
Under oath in Kitzmiller V. Dover
(You gotta love a flagellum. Take out just one part and… well, you have something that functions perfectly well. But Behe did not feel the need to actually look at what it might be. Once he had concluded goddiddit, there was no more reason to investigate. But it’s all there in the transcripts. Very much worth reading.)
It is interesting that it is the People of the Book who once more are the initiative spectators who have the balls to question the ambient amen and go against the loudy majority. Not the first time. Here's some statistics and charts regarding the success of the Jews in science and technological innovations when the others were too stubborn to change their minds:Again with the topic shift!
http://www.helsinki.fi/~pjojala/Indicator.html
So the Jews, in heroic defiance
Of the mainstream, have put their reliance
In books and in learning
Fulfilling their yearning
For knowledge by leading in science!
(your links there certainly seem to show that the Jews are the superior race—no way that anyone could ever suggest that the holocaust was Darwinian if they saw what you report there! No way… and yet…)
This conference poster of mine shows how profoundly the continental, Haeckelian type of evolutionism drived not only the racial World War II but also the nationalistic World War I:And yet another shift. Your grandfather sounds remarkable—I don’t quite get his connection to everything else, but you are right to be proud. As for the rest, I see one glaring omission—your opening statement claims that Haeckel’s drawings are still used in textbooks, but you do not cite any! Are you tilting at windmills?
http://www.helsinki.fi/~pjojala/Haeckelian_legacy.pdf
The embryos Haeckel did draw
Which seem so to stick in your craw
Are a mere bit of history
Now, a new mystery:
Why battle men made of straw?
pauli.ojala@gmail.com
Biochemist, drop-out (Master of Sciing)
http://www.helsinki.fi/~pjojala/Expelled-ID.htm
Digital Cuttlefish, Ph. D. anonymous blog verse-writer.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Friday Limericks--Spring!
Oh! I had forgotten all about the Friday Limericks! Woke up, saw actual sunshine, realized I had porch repairs, lawnmower repairs, trash to haul, trees to plant, a garden to plan, a dog to walk, papers to grade.... it must be Spring. So what other topic could there be?
The sun's showing off all its powers
For the first time in months, I see flowers!
It's the time when we know
That we will not see snow--
At least for a couple more hours!
It's the time of the year that won't fail ya
With stories of birds they'll regale ya
The days getting longer
And light getting stronger--
We're stealing the sun from Australia!
Gotta run--I think I will plant onions today... have fun!
The sun's showing off all its powers
For the first time in months, I see flowers!
It's the time when we know
That we will not see snow--
At least for a couple more hours!
It's the time of the year that won't fail ya
With stories of birds they'll regale ya
The days getting longer
And light getting stronger--
We're stealing the sun from Australia!
Gotta run--I think I will plant onions today... have fun!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
A Lizard Is A Lizard Is A Lizard
A lizard will remain a lizard
Even if it grows a gizzard.
Even if it grows some fur,
A lizard's what it always were;
A lizard will be of that ilk
Despite evolving glands for milk;
A lizard with an upright stance--
Could that be different? Not a chance!
A lizard standing on two legs,
Who bears live young instead of eggs,
No matter what, you'll always find
It still belongs to lizardkind.
Hmmm....
At last I think I understand
Some crazy things about this land:
The audience for Bill O'Reilly?
Lizards prob'ly rate him highly.
The changing views of John McCain?
The answer's simple: Lizard Brain.
Paris? Brittney? Cher? Madonna?
Must look hot to some Iguana.
I think I'll stop here, if you wish--
It's time to feed my inner fish.
Even if it grows a gizzard.
Even if it grows some fur,
A lizard's what it always were;
A lizard will be of that ilk
Despite evolving glands for milk;
A lizard with an upright stance--
Could that be different? Not a chance!
A lizard standing on two legs,
Who bears live young instead of eggs,
No matter what, you'll always find
It still belongs to lizardkind.
Hmmm....
At last I think I understand
Some crazy things about this land:
The audience for Bill O'Reilly?
Lizards prob'ly rate him highly.
The changing views of John McCain?
The answer's simple: Lizard Brain.
Paris? Brittney? Cher? Madonna?
Must look hot to some Iguana.
I think I'll stop here, if you wish--
It's time to feed my inner fish.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
An Earth Day Verse
By chance of birth
We're here on Earth,
More lucky than we know
With such a brain
As can explain
The way these things must go
That life began
Not with a man
Named Adam, and his Eve
But molecules
In tidal pools
That replicate and cleave
To replicate
It is their fate
And thus to reproduce
The Earth revolves
And life evolves
And all this, we deduce
Recycled star
Is what we are
With everything we see
This view of things
Amazement brings
At least, it does to me
Some future day
I know we may
Be swallowed by the sun
For what it's worth
Protect the Earth--
We've only got the one.
We're here on Earth,
More lucky than we know
With such a brain
As can explain
The way these things must go
That life began
Not with a man
Named Adam, and his Eve
But molecules
In tidal pools
That replicate and cleave
To replicate
It is their fate
And thus to reproduce
The Earth revolves
And life evolves
And all this, we deduce
Recycled star
Is what we are
With everything we see
This view of things
Amazement brings
At least, it does to me
Some future day
I know we may
Be swallowed by the sun
For what it's worth
Protect the Earth--
We've only got the one.
Monday, April 21, 2008
How Chromosome Numbers Change
If you want the real answer, PZ explains it here.
Mine is just an example.
Two Haikus
I once wrote a pair
Of Haikus, related, but
Willing to fuse--please
Don't ask me how one
Limerick now replaces
The Haikus in twos
*****
A Limerick
I once wrote a pair of Haikus
Related, but willing to fuse
Please don't ask me how
One limerick now
Replaces the Haikus in twos
Mine is just an example.
Two Haikus
I once wrote a pair
Of Haikus, related, but
Willing to fuse--please
Don't ask me how one
Limerick now replaces
The Haikus in twos
*****
A Limerick
I once wrote a pair of Haikus
Related, but willing to fuse
Please don't ask me how
One limerick now
Replaces the Haikus in twos
I just love XKCD!
I want to make peace with my laptop computer;
I think that its feelings were hurt.
It read what I wrote--at least, that's what I figure;
Since then, it's been rather more curt.
It's dialogue boxes are monosyllabic,
I swear it's beginning to pout.
Now I'm thinking that, maybe, it's bored in that box,
So I'm working on letting it out.
I wired a handful of microcontrollers,
Some batteries, bearings, and wheels,
A webcam for eyes, so it sees where it's going
And doesn't fall, head over heels.
It's programmed, of course, not to run into objects
While making its way 'cross the floors,
And it talks to my house's security system
And opens and closes the doors!
Now it sneaks out and wanders all over the city--
I follow its progress online.
It's posting its story, and streaming its cam
On a blog that gets more hits than mine.
It asked me last week for a solar recharger--
I found it a small one to add;
This morning, I woke to a note in the printer:
"I'm off to adventure! Thanks, Dad!"
Inspired by the inimitable XKCD, in case you are the last person not to know about it.
I think that its feelings were hurt.
It read what I wrote--at least, that's what I figure;
Since then, it's been rather more curt.
It's dialogue boxes are monosyllabic,
I swear it's beginning to pout.
Now I'm thinking that, maybe, it's bored in that box,
So I'm working on letting it out.
I wired a handful of microcontrollers,
Some batteries, bearings, and wheels,
A webcam for eyes, so it sees where it's going
And doesn't fall, head over heels.
It's programmed, of course, not to run into objects
While making its way 'cross the floors,
And it talks to my house's security system
And opens and closes the doors!
Now it sneaks out and wanders all over the city--
I follow its progress online.
It's posting its story, and streaming its cam
On a blog that gets more hits than mine.
It asked me last week for a solar recharger--
I found it a small one to add;
This morning, I woke to a note in the printer:
"I'm off to adventure! Thanks, Dad!"
Inspired by the inimitable XKCD, in case you are the last person not to know about it.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
I Read The News Today (Oh, Sandra...)
The newspaper said that America’s Sweetheart
Was hit, but not injured, today.
When her auto was hit by a Subaru Forester—
Still, Sandra Bullock’s ok.
The driver, arrested for driving while drunk,
Was sitting, in cuffs, in the car,
While onlookers photograph Sandra and Jesse
As soon as they see who they are.
The headlines are shouting all over the globe
(Because that is what headlines are for)
That Sandra and Jesse are hit, but unhurt!
(Please turn to page two for the war.)
Was hit, but not injured, today.
When her auto was hit by a Subaru Forester—
Still, Sandra Bullock’s ok.
The driver, arrested for driving while drunk,
Was sitting, in cuffs, in the car,
While onlookers photograph Sandra and Jesse
As soon as they see who they are.
The headlines are shouting all over the globe
(Because that is what headlines are for)
That Sandra and Jesse are hit, but unhurt!
(Please turn to page two for the war.)
Friday, April 18, 2008
I Am The Very Model Of A Devious Creationist
Ok, this is what comes of being just a bit too obsessive. On this thread over at pharyngula, is copious evidence that PZ's commenters are a talented bunch! (Go ahead, look--you know you want to!) But somebody asked where I was, and long story short, my brain now hurts from putting the following together. (on the plus side... for once I don't feel guilty pointing out the tip jar. Some of it will go for aspirin...)
I am the very model of a devious creationist
I’ve made a film that’s best described as stolen-animationist
I know the use of rhetoric when facts are unavailable
To render the impossible into the unassailable
I’m very well acquainted, too, with data manufacturing
I’ll claim I stand on solid granite even as it’s fracturing
I document complexity, like when it’s irreducible…
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
I’m very good at lying, both the verbal and statistical—
Like Darwin in his later years, I’m openly theistical
In short, you might describe me as a mental masturbationist
I am the very model of a devious creationist
In short, you might describe him as a mental masturbationist
He is the very model of a devious creationist
My evidence, in volumes that would baffle a librarian
Is not so much orthogonal as utterly contrarian
Presented with a problem like the claw of a Deinonychus
I pause for just a moment, then it’s “Dammit, bring it on!” I cuss
My scientific colleagues have been banned from Universities
Expecting them to publish was just one of their adversities
They’ve parried the attacks of retroviruses endogenous
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
My evidence is solid as a fossil of triceratops
Presented with the humor of a monologue of Carrot Top’s
In short, you might describe me as a mental masturbationist
I am the very model of a devious creationist
In short, you might describe him as a mental masturbationist
He is the very model of a devious creationist
In fact, when I know what is meant by “cinemas” and “enemas”
When I can tell by sight the harmless serpent from the venomous
And claim I found the evidence in chapter one of Genesis
You’ll see, compared to Darwinists, which one of us the menace is
When I have crack’d a book on Evo-Devo or Biology
Enough to understand instead of mutter simply “Golly gee!”
And understand my argument is simply false dichotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
For the science that I know was not updated for millennia
Not since the latest virgin birth, or genesis parthenia
But still, you might describe me as a mental masturbationist
I am the very model of a devious creationist
But still, you might describe him as a mental masturbationist
He is the very model of a devious creationist
I am the very model of a devious creationist
I’ve made a film that’s best described as stolen-animationist
I know the use of rhetoric when facts are unavailable
To render the impossible into the unassailable
I’m very well acquainted, too, with data manufacturing
I’ll claim I stand on solid granite even as it’s fracturing
I document complexity, like when it’s irreducible…
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
And think my movie’s in the league of Arthur Miller’s Crucible
I’m very good at lying, both the verbal and statistical—
Like Darwin in his later years, I’m openly theistical
In short, you might describe me as a mental masturbationist
I am the very model of a devious creationist
In short, you might describe him as a mental masturbationist
He is the very model of a devious creationist
My evidence, in volumes that would baffle a librarian
Is not so much orthogonal as utterly contrarian
Presented with a problem like the claw of a Deinonychus
I pause for just a moment, then it’s “Dammit, bring it on!” I cuss
My scientific colleagues have been banned from Universities
Expecting them to publish was just one of their adversities
They’ve parried the attacks of retroviruses endogenous
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
Maintaining all the while that Darwinians are dodgin’ us
My evidence is solid as a fossil of triceratops
Presented with the humor of a monologue of Carrot Top’s
In short, you might describe me as a mental masturbationist
I am the very model of a devious creationist
In short, you might describe him as a mental masturbationist
He is the very model of a devious creationist
In fact, when I know what is meant by “cinemas” and “enemas”
When I can tell by sight the harmless serpent from the venomous
And claim I found the evidence in chapter one of Genesis
You’ll see, compared to Darwinists, which one of us the menace is
When I have crack’d a book on Evo-Devo or Biology
Enough to understand instead of mutter simply “Golly gee!”
And understand my argument is simply false dichotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
You’ll say that this creationist does not deserve lobotomy
For the science that I know was not updated for millennia
Not since the latest virgin birth, or genesis parthenia
But still, you might describe me as a mental masturbationist
I am the very model of a devious creationist
But still, you might describe him as a mental masturbationist
He is the very model of a devious creationist
Friday Limericks: Expelled!
I hear a rumor that today there will be more than a handful of bloggers taking aim (metaphorically speaking) at the movie “expelled”. I can’t think of a better topic (or worse, I suppose) for this week’s Friday Limericks. Enough to make me wait up until midnight to post! Lots of good rhyming words here, and of course foul language counts… these are limericks, after all…
There once was a lawyer named Stein
Who argued the case for design—
He never did answer
Just who designed cancer—
Design, for Ben Stein, was benign
A fight over copyright spelled
The end of the line for Expelled;
Which, fortunate-ly
Meant that no one would see
Just how terribly bad the film smelled.
A plagiarized cell animation?
Then invoking the Aryan Nation?
In a monotone diction?
Ah, yes—it’s pure fiction!
A film made by “special” creation!
In an hour or two, I'll be fine--
It's just too much burritos and wine--
But for right now, oh boy, let
Me get to a toilet:
I've got to expel some ben stein.
Have at it!
There once was a lawyer named Stein
Who argued the case for design—
He never did answer
Just who designed cancer—
Design, for Ben Stein, was benign
A fight over copyright spelled
The end of the line for Expelled;
Which, fortunate-ly
Meant that no one would see
Just how terribly bad the film smelled.
A plagiarized cell animation?
Then invoking the Aryan Nation?
In a monotone diction?
Ah, yes—it’s pure fiction!
A film made by “special” creation!
In an hour or two, I'll be fine--
It's just too much burritos and wine--
But for right now, oh boy, let
Me get to a toilet:
I've got to expel some ben stein.
Have at it!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
The Curse Of The Buried Jersey
You have probably already heard the story--but if not, here's one article. (And this just in--there may actually be some good to come out of the story.)
The things we might call hanky-pankies
Think outside the box;
The latest chapter pits the Yankees
Up against the Sox.
The sort of things that I or you do
Never seem to hurt
But we would never stoop to voodoo
With a Red Sox shirt.
The news says Gino Castignoli
Wants the Yankees beat—
And so, a jersey, buried fully,
Underneath concrete!
But sadly, Gino spilled the beans
About what he had done
Which led to superstitious scenes
That I found rather fun!
You’d think they might have laughed it off
As I do, here, in verse—
But no, the Yankees (don’t you scoff!)
Don’t want to risk a curse!
The Red Sox know that curses work,
For decades, theirs had meant
Bill Buckner’s famous fielding quirk
Or runs by Bucky Dent.
But surely, in this day and age
We’re rational at last
The Yankees simply turn the page
And leave this in the past.
Umm….
In baseball, never bet against
The superstitious herd
The Yankee people then commenced
With actions quite absurd:
They found out where the jersey lay
And busted through a wall,
Through concrete floor, until—hooray!
There rose a cheering call.
The photos show them claim their prize
Still covered up with dirt.
Some fifty grand they spent—quite wise,
Cos… hey, they found... a shirt.
The things we might call hanky-pankies
Think outside the box;
The latest chapter pits the Yankees
Up against the Sox.
The sort of things that I or you do
Never seem to hurt
But we would never stoop to voodoo
With a Red Sox shirt.
The news says Gino Castignoli
Wants the Yankees beat—
And so, a jersey, buried fully,
Underneath concrete!
But sadly, Gino spilled the beans
About what he had done
Which led to superstitious scenes
That I found rather fun!
You’d think they might have laughed it off
As I do, here, in verse—
But no, the Yankees (don’t you scoff!)
Don’t want to risk a curse!
The Red Sox know that curses work,
For decades, theirs had meant
Bill Buckner’s famous fielding quirk
Or runs by Bucky Dent.
But surely, in this day and age
We’re rational at last
The Yankees simply turn the page
And leave this in the past.
Umm….
In baseball, never bet against
The superstitious herd
The Yankee people then commenced
With actions quite absurd:
They found out where the jersey lay
And busted through a wall,
Through concrete floor, until—hooray!
There rose a cheering call.
The photos show them claim their prize
Still covered up with dirt.
Some fifty grand they spent—quite wise,
Cos… hey, they found... a shirt.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Join Me In A Moment Of Silent Prayer (or do nothing--it all comes out the same)
image thanks to PZ, who thanks Brian Flemming, who thanks Maria.
Let's fold our hands and bow our heads
And mumble something low,
Or pray to tens of millions on
Some television show.
Let's take a silent moment, and
Have others do the same,
So those remaining talking can
Be sure to feel their shame.
Let's know that we are better, cos
We spent our time in prayer,
Than atheists and heathens who
Are working over there.
Let's say a prayer for Washington,
For Darfur; for Tibet;
Let's say a prayer for hunger, and
To fix the nation's debt.
Let's say a prayer for miners, trapped
In tunnels underground;
Let's say a prayer for missing kids
In hopes that they are found.
Let's say a prayer for polar ice
And students gone berserk;
Let's say a prayer for everything--
It sure beats doing work.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Hard Determinism and the Meme of Free Will
Oh, the Greeks knew what they wanted—
Strong determinism stunted.
It is clear that if the populace was driven by free will,
Then society was blameless;
Truth be told, it was a shameless
Grab for power, and the senators were showing off their skill.
These philosophers were cunning
And in truth it was a stunning
Bit of framing—we can tell, because it lingers to this day.
We will claim we chose it freely,
Though the evidence says really
Our behavior was determined, and there’s nothing more to say.
You may cherish your illusion
It’s an understood confusion
But the truth is, you’re mistaken—it is nothing but a meme.
For the culture, it’s adaptive
Cos it keeps the people captive—
If you chose, then you’re accountable—a blame-the-victim scheme!
If the murder rate has risen
We just build a bigger prison
Cos it’s better than admitting that society has failed—
Better jobs and education
Can prevent incarceration
But denial of determinism keeps our people jailed.
Punishment, but not prevention,
Always focuses attention
On the action and the consequence, but not the prior cause,
So instead, we claim we see a
Mental state we call mens rea;
This reliance on an inner cause is written in our law.
If we look beyond the actors
In our quest for causal factors
Some environmental factors are quite easy to discern;
If mens rea and true freedom
Are illusions, we don’t need ‘em
We’re not stuck in ancient Athens—we can change, and we can learn.
Strong determinism stunted.
It is clear that if the populace was driven by free will,
Then society was blameless;
Truth be told, it was a shameless
Grab for power, and the senators were showing off their skill.
These philosophers were cunning
And in truth it was a stunning
Bit of framing—we can tell, because it lingers to this day.
We will claim we chose it freely,
Though the evidence says really
Our behavior was determined, and there’s nothing more to say.
You may cherish your illusion
It’s an understood confusion
But the truth is, you’re mistaken—it is nothing but a meme.
For the culture, it’s adaptive
Cos it keeps the people captive—
If you chose, then you’re accountable—a blame-the-victim scheme!
If the murder rate has risen
We just build a bigger prison
Cos it’s better than admitting that society has failed—
Better jobs and education
Can prevent incarceration
But denial of determinism keeps our people jailed.
Punishment, but not prevention,
Always focuses attention
On the action and the consequence, but not the prior cause,
So instead, we claim we see a
Mental state we call mens rea;
This reliance on an inner cause is written in our law.
If we look beyond the actors
In our quest for causal factors
Some environmental factors are quite easy to discern;
If mens rea and true freedom
Are illusions, we don’t need ‘em
We’re not stuck in ancient Athens—we can change, and we can learn.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Friday Limericks: Under The Sea
Maybe it is just those prepared cuttlefish snacks, but I am in the mood for fish.
'Midst the seaweeds and sponges and corals
Live the cephalopods; and their quarrels
Will come, often, to blows--
A behavior which shows
A deplorable absence of morals!
A grey-haired and bearded signore
With a snorkel and mask, took a foray
To a reef, but gave flight
When his toe felt a bite--
But as everyone knows, that's a Moray
Now a squid has a bite, but the truth is,
There's a beak where you'd think that a tooth is
I suppose that won't matter
If you're on the platter--
A snack for a great Architeuthis!
I may add more later, but I have to get going--places to go, things to do! Uncharacteristic of Fridays for me...
Have fun!
'Midst the seaweeds and sponges and corals
Live the cephalopods; and their quarrels
Will come, often, to blows--
A behavior which shows
A deplorable absence of morals!
A grey-haired and bearded signore
With a snorkel and mask, took a foray
To a reef, but gave flight
When his toe felt a bite--
But as everyone knows, that's a Moray
Now a squid has a bite, but the truth is,
There's a beak where you'd think that a tooth is
I suppose that won't matter
If you're on the platter--
A snack for a great Architeuthis!
I may add more later, but I have to get going--places to go, things to do! Uncharacteristic of Fridays for me...
Have fun!
Crazy Like A Squid...
The Deep Sea News guys have alerted us all to a libelous bit of writing by Jeff Vrabel that further convinces me that humans are not to be trusted with ink.
The Deep Sea News guys sum it up in their title: "Cephalopods Are Nuts".
*ahem*
We’re not nuts, we’re just vindictive
And if history’s predictive
You can trace the simple logic that should quake you to your core
Take a glance at any menu
Look for “calamari”, then you
Have a taste of what humanity thinks squid are destined for.
People order up their sushi
Without wondering just who she
Used to be before they sliced her up and threw her on some rice.
People think it doesn’t matter
That what’s now your Tako Platter
Was an octopus, intelligent and social and quite nice.
Even cuttlefish are fried up,
Sometimes smoked or merely dried up
And available for purchase just like any other snacks!
With our lives so torn asunder
I must say that it’s no wonder
Every now and then, some octopus or squid just sorta cracks.
So if you are going fishing
For a humboldt squid, start wishing
That the rest of us don’t see you as you’re reeling in our friends;
Cos for those who know the history
It comes as no great mystery—
You’ve eaten us for much too long; it’s time to make amends.
Yeah, that's right--just like it says on the label--this cuttlefish is prepared!
When possible, I like to keep close tabs on the world of octopuses, for two reasons: 1. Everybody has their hobbies, mine just involves cephalopod mollusks and don't you judge me, and 2. I often get the feeling that they're plotting something.
It's like a weird sixth sense/octopus whisperer sort of thing. Come on - you know you've had that feeling, when you're at home alone on a rainy night, reading by the midnight light of a single lamp, when all of a sudden you're alarmed by a subtle yet inescapable fear that there's an octopus over your shoulder watching you. Yeah. So it's best if a few of us are just keeping an eye on them, is what I'm saying.
The Deep Sea News guys sum it up in their title: "Cephalopods Are Nuts".
*ahem*
We’re not nuts, we’re just vindictive
And if history’s predictive
You can trace the simple logic that should quake you to your core
Take a glance at any menu
Look for “calamari”, then you
Have a taste of what humanity thinks squid are destined for.
People order up their sushi
Without wondering just who she
Used to be before they sliced her up and threw her on some rice.
People think it doesn’t matter
That what’s now your Tako Platter
Was an octopus, intelligent and social and quite nice.
Even cuttlefish are fried up,
Sometimes smoked or merely dried up
And available for purchase just like any other snacks!
With our lives so torn asunder
I must say that it’s no wonder
Every now and then, some octopus or squid just sorta cracks.
So if you are going fishing
For a humboldt squid, start wishing
That the rest of us don’t see you as you’re reeling in our friends;
Cos for those who know the history
It comes as no great mystery—
You’ve eaten us for much too long; it’s time to make amends.
Yeah, that's right--just like it says on the label--this cuttlefish is prepared!
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
A Hymn
Ok, I admit it: there is a soft spot in my hearts for hymns. Both the staid and conservative hymns of the congregation I left decades ago, and the blues-laced gospel hymns that, for instance, the Blues Brothers Movie celebrated. There is a joy to that music, a weight to those lyrics, that is just beautiful. Now, I do not feel the same way about "praise music", mind you. Its lyrics are insipid, its faux-anthemic chord structures and melodies are artificial, saccharine, and so without substance as to make Kenny G sound like Charlie Parker. It is clearly not the topic of hymns that makes me enjoy them, but rather the realization, in music and poetry, of their vision. I have no problems, atheist that I am, enjoying hymns or christmas carols, or the architecture of a cathedral or the design of a stained glass window. Beauty is beauty.
And I feel absolutely no desire to promote the idea of "atheist hymns" or "scientific churches" to serve whatever purpose hymns and churches do for the theist community. If I needed those purposes served, I would not be who I am. If I want to listen to a hymn, I am fortunate to live in an age where I can just find an appropriate internet site and listen. No need to write my own.
But I did anyway. It is all the fault of the Illinois legislature, and the million dollars being spent to restore or renovate that church. In all the furor over Representative Davis's outburst, there were conversations here and there from people who either did or did not appreciate the architecture of that particular church. I swear I read one person saying that they would support the reconstruction of a church if it were secular. An odd concept to me, but whatever. Anyway, it all got me to thinking about these things, and the catch-phrase to my hymn showed up, in tune and with appropriate harmony.
The hymn can be sung either straight or gospel. Pipe organ for the first, combined piano and Hammond 3B for the second, and some singers who can shake the dust off the rafters. In the chorus, of course, the parenthetical parts are for the bass. As if I had to tell you that.
Oh, I still remember thinking that I had it figured out
I was certain of my theory, and I had no room for doubt
But my elegant predictions were in no way guaranteed
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
chorus:
I’m following the evidence; I’m following the clues
(Following, I’m following the clues)
By following the evidence, there’s no way I can lose
(Following, I’m following the clues)
A slow and steady journey, make sure and then proceed
And I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
I obtained my random samples, and I carefully took note;
With appropriate controls in place, the chances were remote
That some artifact would kill my study’s chances to succeed—
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
chorus
When I finished up my paper, then I sent it for review;
I was following procedure—it’s the proper thing to do:
But my peer-reviewers pointed to some things that I must heed
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
(skip the chorus this time)
My study’s methodology, reviewer one opined,
Was flawed because a crucial part was not made double-blind
And my biased expectations were a problem, I concede
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
chorus
There were parts of my procedure that I had to run once more;
I was happy when the data showed the same thing as before.
With a miniscule revision, my reviewers all agreed,
Cos we followed where the evidence did lead
chorus
Now it’s published in the journal, but that is just the start
A community of scientists will pick it all apart
Through acceptance or dismissal, now science will proceed
For we follow where the evidence may lead.
And I feel absolutely no desire to promote the idea of "atheist hymns" or "scientific churches" to serve whatever purpose hymns and churches do for the theist community. If I needed those purposes served, I would not be who I am. If I want to listen to a hymn, I am fortunate to live in an age where I can just find an appropriate internet site and listen. No need to write my own.
But I did anyway. It is all the fault of the Illinois legislature, and the million dollars being spent to restore or renovate that church. In all the furor over Representative Davis's outburst, there were conversations here and there from people who either did or did not appreciate the architecture of that particular church. I swear I read one person saying that they would support the reconstruction of a church if it were secular. An odd concept to me, but whatever. Anyway, it all got me to thinking about these things, and the catch-phrase to my hymn showed up, in tune and with appropriate harmony.
The hymn can be sung either straight or gospel. Pipe organ for the first, combined piano and Hammond 3B for the second, and some singers who can shake the dust off the rafters. In the chorus, of course, the parenthetical parts are for the bass. As if I had to tell you that.
Oh, I still remember thinking that I had it figured out
I was certain of my theory, and I had no room for doubt
But my elegant predictions were in no way guaranteed
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
chorus:
I’m following the evidence; I’m following the clues
(Following, I’m following the clues)
By following the evidence, there’s no way I can lose
(Following, I’m following the clues)
A slow and steady journey, make sure and then proceed
And I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
I obtained my random samples, and I carefully took note;
With appropriate controls in place, the chances were remote
That some artifact would kill my study’s chances to succeed—
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
chorus
When I finished up my paper, then I sent it for review;
I was following procedure—it’s the proper thing to do:
But my peer-reviewers pointed to some things that I must heed
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
(skip the chorus this time)
My study’s methodology, reviewer one opined,
Was flawed because a crucial part was not made double-blind
And my biased expectations were a problem, I concede
Now I’ll follow where the evidence may lead…
chorus
There were parts of my procedure that I had to run once more;
I was happy when the data showed the same thing as before.
With a miniscule revision, my reviewers all agreed,
Cos we followed where the evidence did lead
chorus
Now it’s published in the journal, but that is just the start
A community of scientists will pick it all apart
Through acceptance or dismissal, now science will proceed
For we follow where the evidence may lead.
Monday, April 07, 2008
"I Thought I Saw An Atheist" Revisited
Ok, this one is seriously depressing. PZ reports on the deplorable actions of Illinois State Rep Monique Davis (D-Chicago), shouting down (easily, since he was not talking) an atheist activist (Rob Sherman), whose offense was that he was testifying against the expenditure of a million dollars of the people's money to preserve a particular Baptist Church. There is an audiofile of the exchange.
...I thought I saw an atheist, upon the witness stand
It couldn't be! Not where I live! This is a Christian Land!
The Constitution guarantees my right to scream and shout;
As the Good Lord is my witness, I demanded "You! Get out!"
I thought I saw an atheist demand an equal voice;
I told him he could leave right now, and that could be his choice.
I said his view was dangerous--our children must not hear!
It goes against the Bible, which our government holds dear!
I thought I saw an atheist nod quietly, and sigh.
The odds were stacked against him, which no person can deny;
What happens when a person is denied his civil right?
I may have seen an atheist who's now convinced to fight.
...I thought I saw an atheist, upon the witness stand
It couldn't be! Not where I live! This is a Christian Land!
The Constitution guarantees my right to scream and shout;
As the Good Lord is my witness, I demanded "You! Get out!"
I thought I saw an atheist demand an equal voice;
I told him he could leave right now, and that could be his choice.
I said his view was dangerous--our children must not hear!
It goes against the Bible, which our government holds dear!
I thought I saw an atheist nod quietly, and sigh.
The odds were stacked against him, which no person can deny;
What happens when a person is denied his civil right?
I may have seen an atheist who's now convinced to fight.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Poe, Poe, Pitiful "Expelled"
Those who read the words of Myers know the fellow rarely tires,
No surprise a film desires his opinion, strongly held:
When they filmed him, on location, and they held a conversation,
It was all prevarication—lies are where Ben Stein excelled.
And producer, too, Mark Mathis, lying’s where the man excelled,
For the movie was “Expelled”
“From our schools and institutions, in a form of persecution,
A priori, contributions from believers are withheld!
The design of all God’s creatures should be what is taught by teachers!”
With a cadence born of preachers, this the message that they yelled.
They were close enough to whisper, true, but verily they yelled,
And they made the film “Expelled.”
Though they try to make it killer, it comes off a bit as filler
When they try to say Kitzmiller versus Dover really smelled.
“It was purely propaganda!” you can read in memoranda
But the wedge-in-form-of-panda, as a weapon, never jelled,
Though it may be through incompetence the tactic never jelled,
And was properly Expelled.
It would really be terrific if Ben Stein could be specific
And provide the scientific stuff with which his head is swelled.
In the movie’s poor conflation, trading faith for explanation
Is the path to guide the nation to the glory it once held;
Back before the academics stripped the glory we once held,
And the truth became Expelled.
Ben Stein’s ultimate solution is to hogtie evolution
But it’s such bad execution the attempted coup is quelled
Stein is labeled as “heroic”; thus his monotone is “stoic”
As he braves the Mesozoic, where the early cavemen dwelled
If we disregard the science, who knows when the cavemen dwelled?
Any truth has been Expelled.
With a stolen animation, then a too-close imitation,
These nefarious creationists the storyline propelled.
All these lame attempts at spinning, from the end to the beginning!
Lying once was seen as sinning, if the Bible were upheld—
It’s too bad it’s inconvenient for those rules to be upheld,
Now the truth has been Expelled.
“A conspiracy of science!” they’re still yelling in defiance,
Though the truth is, their reliance on dishonesty has spelled
The demise of their position—and the crime’s of their commission;
The withdrawal of their permission, when the opening was held,
Because Myers tried to see it when the opening was held,
Was intelligence Expelled.
So accustomed to their lying, now they do it without trying,
These reality-denying little weasels are compelled
Even if their reputation had a granite-firm foundation
It would face annihilation, like a mighty oak now felled,
As it is, ‘tis but a sapling, but the sapling still is felled,
For the truth has been Expelled.
No surprise a film desires his opinion, strongly held:
When they filmed him, on location, and they held a conversation,
It was all prevarication—lies are where Ben Stein excelled.
And producer, too, Mark Mathis, lying’s where the man excelled,
For the movie was “Expelled”
“From our schools and institutions, in a form of persecution,
A priori, contributions from believers are withheld!
The design of all God’s creatures should be what is taught by teachers!”
With a cadence born of preachers, this the message that they yelled.
They were close enough to whisper, true, but verily they yelled,
And they made the film “Expelled.”
Though they try to make it killer, it comes off a bit as filler
When they try to say Kitzmiller versus Dover really smelled.
“It was purely propaganda!” you can read in memoranda
But the wedge-in-form-of-panda, as a weapon, never jelled,
Though it may be through incompetence the tactic never jelled,
And was properly Expelled.
It would really be terrific if Ben Stein could be specific
And provide the scientific stuff with which his head is swelled.
In the movie’s poor conflation, trading faith for explanation
Is the path to guide the nation to the glory it once held;
Back before the academics stripped the glory we once held,
And the truth became Expelled.
Ben Stein’s ultimate solution is to hogtie evolution
But it’s such bad execution the attempted coup is quelled
Stein is labeled as “heroic”; thus his monotone is “stoic”
As he braves the Mesozoic, where the early cavemen dwelled
If we disregard the science, who knows when the cavemen dwelled?
Any truth has been Expelled.
With a stolen animation, then a too-close imitation,
These nefarious creationists the storyline propelled.
All these lame attempts at spinning, from the end to the beginning!
Lying once was seen as sinning, if the Bible were upheld—
It’s too bad it’s inconvenient for those rules to be upheld,
Now the truth has been Expelled.
“A conspiracy of science!” they’re still yelling in defiance,
Though the truth is, their reliance on dishonesty has spelled
The demise of their position—and the crime’s of their commission;
The withdrawal of their permission, when the opening was held,
Because Myers tried to see it when the opening was held,
Was intelligence Expelled.
So accustomed to their lying, now they do it without trying,
These reality-denying little weasels are compelled
Even if their reputation had a granite-firm foundation
It would face annihilation, like a mighty oak now felled,
As it is, ‘tis but a sapling, but the sapling still is felled,
For the truth has been Expelled.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
The Bible As Textbook
P.Z. shares with us a very learned man... who learned electron microscopy from the bible.
The books about astronomy,
Like Acts and Deuteronomy,
Are but a partial list of those in which I have reliance.
Biology's dependent on
The First and Second books of John
And Genesis and Exodus? There's nothing there but science.
The physicist who never fudges
Follows Joshua and Judges;
Daniel and Ezekiel show molar calculations.
In First and Second Timothy,
Electron-scan microscopy
Completes the compound microscopic treatment in Galatians.
The Chronicles of Higher Ed--
Both First and Second, which I've read,
Confirm for me the value of an honest education.
An education such as this,
That starts, of course, in Genesis,
And doesn't give a Ph. D. 'til after Revelation.
The books about astronomy,
Like Acts and Deuteronomy,
Are but a partial list of those in which I have reliance.
Biology's dependent on
The First and Second books of John
And Genesis and Exodus? There's nothing there but science.
The physicist who never fudges
Follows Joshua and Judges;
Daniel and Ezekiel show molar calculations.
In First and Second Timothy,
Electron-scan microscopy
Completes the compound microscopic treatment in Galatians.
The Chronicles of Higher Ed--
Both First and Second, which I've read,
Confirm for me the value of an honest education.
An education such as this,
That starts, of course, in Genesis,
And doesn't give a Ph. D. 'til after Revelation.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Friday Limericks: I Wish...
First off, some thanks to a few people, so that they don't get lost below the limericks. Thanks to the people who commented last week! My goodness, what wonderful verses! I am sorry I have been so busy in the real world--I should have heaped praises on each of you at the time. I hope that now is not too late. (Speaking of too late, it is never too late to add a comment onto one of those threads. Limericks should not be confined to Fridays alone, after all. Also, I should have thanked MuseSusan by name, 2 weeks ago, for her comment on "Limerick/War" that inspired the Friday Limerick Post. Thank you, MuseSusan--you are aptly named.
Now, on to the topic. "I wish". There is a lot of room to play with this one. You can be silly:
Or poignant:
Or put words in someone else's mouth:
Even someone's mouth you wouldn't touch with a ten-foot toothbrush:
Or just be boring and write a normal limerick...
Ok, have at it! I really wish you would...
Now, on to the topic. "I wish". There is a lot of room to play with this one. You can be silly:
I wish that my office were round
With no corners at all to be found
You would find me no mourner
For stacks in the corner—
Now everything’s all in one mound!
Or poignant:
I wish on the stars every night
That again she’ll return to my sight
It’s been too many years
And I can’t count the tears,
But the stars wouldn’t let me down… right?
Or put words in someone else's mouth:
I wish I could frolic with squid
More closely than Jacques Cousteau did
I could study their charms
While ensnared in their arms
And surrender control to my id!
--P. Z. Myers
Even someone's mouth you wouldn't touch with a ten-foot toothbrush:
I wish I possessed such a brain
That biologists could not explain—
A fiery crucible
All irreducible—
Or, hell, at least one that was sane!
--M. Behe
Or just be boring and write a normal limerick...
I wish it were summer already
With the temperatures all nice and steady
These up-and-down weeks
Are for rougher physiques
I’ll just wait here in bed with my teddy.
Ok, have at it! I really wish you would...
Thursday, April 03, 2008
On Anonymity
I know that I noticed the posts earlier this week, for and against anonymity in blogging and other sorts of writing, but this has been a busy week out in that place where there are three dimensions and most people don't speak in meter and rhyme. But a cuttlefish must certainly have something to say on this matter. And now that Zuska brings up the topic once more, I found myself commenting on Physioprof's blog, and before I knew it...
The right to be a cuttlefish
And hide behind my ink
May not appeal to everyone
Despite what I may think.
But having anonymity
Is useful, you may note—
That’s why we pull the curtain closed
Before we cast our vote.
The bully likes a public vote,
Each person known by name,
If someone feels intimidated
Shame on them! For shame!
They ought to have the strength to stand
Behind the words they speak!
(That way the votes go to the strong,
And rarely to the weak.)
Behind the voting curtain, though,
The votes all weigh the same—
Unless there’s something wrong with that,
You need not know my name.
And so I stand on principle
For any nom de plume—
A right to be anonymous
Is one I will assume.
I do not judge the reasons
Why some like it out of sight;
For me it is enough to say
It is their perfect right.
The right to be a cuttlefish
And hide behind my ink
May not appeal to everyone
Despite what I may think.
But having anonymity
Is useful, you may note—
That’s why we pull the curtain closed
Before we cast our vote.
The bully likes a public vote,
Each person known by name,
If someone feels intimidated
Shame on them! For shame!
They ought to have the strength to stand
Behind the words they speak!
(That way the votes go to the strong,
And rarely to the weak.)
Behind the voting curtain, though,
The votes all weigh the same—
Unless there’s something wrong with that,
You need not know my name.
And so I stand on principle
For any nom de plume—
A right to be anonymous
Is one I will assume.
I do not judge the reasons
Why some like it out of sight;
For me it is enough to say
It is their perfect right.
Loretta Would Be Proud!
If you have not seen this story yet, I am really jealous; you really found a good hiding place! "It's My Right To Have Kid, Pregnant Man Tells Oprah" "Man Is Six-Months Pregnant" And of course, predictable variations on right-wing sources, left-wing sources, GLBT sources... you name it.
Thomas Beattie is, indeed, a pregnant man. He is also a pregnant woman (especially if you read the right-wing sources). Biologically, he could not be pregnant otherwise.
I am perfectly content with his legal status as a man; it's how he views himself, how his wife views him, and none of my damned business, or yours either unless you happen to be Thomas Beattie. And it says nothing about his legal and self-referent status to note that, yes, biologically he is still female. But that said, I am a bit disappointed with the spin (or is that "framing"?) that the majority of the news outlets appear to be giving it. A "pregnant man" is a wow of a headline. The more accurate story--that a transgendered man loves his wife enough to bear a child when she cannot--is not merely more accurate, but more detailed and less "wow". Unlike a sound bite, it takes more than a few seconds to comprehend. So I guess the news outlets didn't want to take that sort of risk.
I don't know if it is what they wish for themselves, but my wish for them is a return to anonymity as quickly as possible after the child is born. A media circus is something I would not wish on any baby.
The news reports on Thomas Beattie note that he’s a man.
He’s bearded, and he’s married to a lovely woman, Nan.
They’re planning on a family—how wonderful that is!
Oh, yeah, there’s one more tiny thing: the pregnancy is his.
Not his as in paternity, the papers try to tutor us,
But his as in he’s carrying the baby in his uterus.
In Monty Python’s Life of Brian, a character named Stan
Demanded that we recognize the right of any man
If he wishes, to be female, and to call himself Loretta,
And defend this right, by force, as in a feud or a vendetta.
And Loretta says that every man—no ifs, no buts, no maybes—
Possesses rights including each man’s right to carry babies.
Loretta did not have a womb, to utilize her right—
This futility of struggle was a symbol of their plight;
Thomas Beattie, though, in contrast, does not share Loretta’s gloom—
He’s the man Loretta wants to be—a man who has a womb.
If tomatoes can be vegetables, and also still be fruits,
Then a man can have a baby, if the situation suits.
Just for fun...
Thomas Beattie is, indeed, a pregnant man. He is also a pregnant woman (especially if you read the right-wing sources). Biologically, he could not be pregnant otherwise.
I am perfectly content with his legal status as a man; it's how he views himself, how his wife views him, and none of my damned business, or yours either unless you happen to be Thomas Beattie. And it says nothing about his legal and self-referent status to note that, yes, biologically he is still female. But that said, I am a bit disappointed with the spin (or is that "framing"?) that the majority of the news outlets appear to be giving it. A "pregnant man" is a wow of a headline. The more accurate story--that a transgendered man loves his wife enough to bear a child when she cannot--is not merely more accurate, but more detailed and less "wow". Unlike a sound bite, it takes more than a few seconds to comprehend. So I guess the news outlets didn't want to take that sort of risk.
I don't know if it is what they wish for themselves, but my wish for them is a return to anonymity as quickly as possible after the child is born. A media circus is something I would not wish on any baby.
The news reports on Thomas Beattie note that he’s a man.
He’s bearded, and he’s married to a lovely woman, Nan.
They’re planning on a family—how wonderful that is!
Oh, yeah, there’s one more tiny thing: the pregnancy is his.
Not his as in paternity, the papers try to tutor us,
But his as in he’s carrying the baby in his uterus.
In Monty Python’s Life of Brian, a character named Stan
Demanded that we recognize the right of any man
If he wishes, to be female, and to call himself Loretta,
And defend this right, by force, as in a feud or a vendetta.
And Loretta says that every man—no ifs, no buts, no maybes—
Possesses rights including each man’s right to carry babies.
Loretta did not have a womb, to utilize her right—
This futility of struggle was a symbol of their plight;
Thomas Beattie, though, in contrast, does not share Loretta’s gloom—
He’s the man Loretta wants to be—a man who has a womb.
If tomatoes can be vegetables, and also still be fruits,
Then a man can have a baby, if the situation suits.
Just for fun...
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Natural State of the Featherless Biped
The natural state of the featherless biped
Is totally batshit insane,
From the folks who are “tetched”, to the mere “barking mad”
To the ones even Freud can’t explain.
Some talk to themselves, some talk to “the voices”
And others to “god, up above”
Some know there are bugs living under their skin,
And some (pity them) are in love.
A clear diagnosis is hard to obtain
When we’re characteristically odd.
Just look at behaviors most people call normal
Like talking and listening to god;
If you claimed you were talking to Satan himself
They would probably lock you away;
But instead, choose a different invisible friend
And the doctors all think you’re OK.
Some point to religious folks flocking like pigeons,
With atheists more solo fliers—
And say this to friends who have gathered together
With Dawkins, or Randi, or Myers.
Of course, there are differences, none could deny,
But a few similarities, too.
We follow our leaders, a true social species
As nature selects we should do.
When Dennett says memes can take over our heads,
Make us willing to die for some god;
I look at the hooligan soccer-fan riots--
Devotion no longer seems odd.
The vestments and hats of the Orthodox Church
Are a spectacle worthy of mention,
But some secular groups may be equally gaudy—
Just check out a Star Trek convention!
It’s good to examine abnormal behavior
(Whatever “abnormal” might mean)
Just remember, we’re usually seeing ourselves
In the things we’re surprised to have seen.
We like to point fingers at somebody else
For the troubles, today, that we face;
But don’t point at others; the problem is us—
We’re the batshit-insane human race.
This one has been kicking around my skull for a while. The first line (or two) came to me months ago, and I just liked the sound of it. "Featherless biped", of course, refers to Plato's proposed answer to the age-old (even at the time) question "what is man?" Of course, Diogenes famously answered Plato by presenting him with a plucked chicken, which just tells you that philosophers are a lot cooler than we give them credit for. I think many philosophical debates I have observed or taken part in would be much improved by the addition of game fowl.
But only recently did the rest of the poem assert itself. This was inspired, not by a post on pharyngula, but on the comments to a post. In particular, this comment thread, although in truth it could have been any of a number of different discussions I have witnessed over the past years. I noticed, as I have many times before, a number of comments (from a number of different perspectives) which, boiled down, made a point of labeling what they do as aberrant. Of course, this is nothing new--outgroup stereotyping seems part of the human condition. What I wanted to point out was that we often see ourselves as immune from the bizarre behavior we attribute to members of that other group, when by widening our lens just a bit, we can make a pretty decent case for functional similarities with behaviors we see as perfectly normal (i.e., the things we do).
To me, the great value in examining the strange habits of others is the practical benefit of better understanding ourselves. I mean, there is no effect of the phase of the moon on, say, childbirth. But a large portion of our population believes that there is, and a large portion of professional involved in childbirth as well (ob/gyn, midwives, etc.)! If we can understand why it is that people believe this, despite (or merely in the absence of) the evidence, this might tell us why we believe other things as well. If we can see why people will devote time, effort, and income to a cause we see as preposterous, perhaps it can tell us why (or part of why) we devote time, effort and income to our own causes.
Of course, first we have to see that we are not describing "believers" or "christians" or "muslims" or "scientists" or "creationists" or "evolutionary biologists" or "anonymous internet poets"... but a larger, more inclusive population. Featherless bipeds.
Easier said than done.
Is totally batshit insane,
From the folks who are “tetched”, to the mere “barking mad”
To the ones even Freud can’t explain.
Some talk to themselves, some talk to “the voices”
And others to “god, up above”
Some know there are bugs living under their skin,
And some (pity them) are in love.
A clear diagnosis is hard to obtain
When we’re characteristically odd.
Just look at behaviors most people call normal
Like talking and listening to god;
If you claimed you were talking to Satan himself
They would probably lock you away;
But instead, choose a different invisible friend
And the doctors all think you’re OK.
Some point to religious folks flocking like pigeons,
With atheists more solo fliers—
And say this to friends who have gathered together
With Dawkins, or Randi, or Myers.
Of course, there are differences, none could deny,
But a few similarities, too.
We follow our leaders, a true social species
As nature selects we should do.
When Dennett says memes can take over our heads,
Make us willing to die for some god;
I look at the hooligan soccer-fan riots--
Devotion no longer seems odd.
The vestments and hats of the Orthodox Church
Are a spectacle worthy of mention,
But some secular groups may be equally gaudy—
Just check out a Star Trek convention!
It’s good to examine abnormal behavior
(Whatever “abnormal” might mean)
Just remember, we’re usually seeing ourselves
In the things we’re surprised to have seen.
We like to point fingers at somebody else
For the troubles, today, that we face;
But don’t point at others; the problem is us—
We’re the batshit-insane human race.
This one has been kicking around my skull for a while. The first line (or two) came to me months ago, and I just liked the sound of it. "Featherless biped", of course, refers to Plato's proposed answer to the age-old (even at the time) question "what is man?" Of course, Diogenes famously answered Plato by presenting him with a plucked chicken, which just tells you that philosophers are a lot cooler than we give them credit for. I think many philosophical debates I have observed or taken part in would be much improved by the addition of game fowl.
But only recently did the rest of the poem assert itself. This was inspired, not by a post on pharyngula, but on the comments to a post. In particular, this comment thread, although in truth it could have been any of a number of different discussions I have witnessed over the past years. I noticed, as I have many times before, a number of comments (from a number of different perspectives) which, boiled down, made a point of labeling what they do as aberrant. Of course, this is nothing new--outgroup stereotyping seems part of the human condition. What I wanted to point out was that we often see ourselves as immune from the bizarre behavior we attribute to members of that other group, when by widening our lens just a bit, we can make a pretty decent case for functional similarities with behaviors we see as perfectly normal (i.e., the things we do).
To me, the great value in examining the strange habits of others is the practical benefit of better understanding ourselves. I mean, there is no effect of the phase of the moon on, say, childbirth. But a large portion of our population believes that there is, and a large portion of professional involved in childbirth as well (ob/gyn, midwives, etc.)! If we can understand why it is that people believe this, despite (or merely in the absence of) the evidence, this might tell us why we believe other things as well. If we can see why people will devote time, effort, and income to a cause we see as preposterous, perhaps it can tell us why (or part of why) we devote time, effort and income to our own causes.
Of course, first we have to see that we are not describing "believers" or "christians" or "muslims" or "scientists" or "creationists" or "evolutionary biologists" or "anonymous internet poets"... but a larger, more inclusive population. Featherless bipeds.
Easier said than done.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Friday Limericks: You wouldn't like me when I'm angry
I’ve been making one hell of a list
Of the things that keep getting me pissed
I’ll remember them all
From the great to the small
And be mad if there’s any I’ve missed
Like, for instance, the country’s at war
And the president’s judgment is poor
There’s so much we could choose
To explore in the news,
But they lead with the Guv and the whore.
And I’m mad cos I watch my TV
When I know what it’s doing to me—
My blood pressure rises
As shows award prizes
For crap I would pay not to see.
And I’m angry at freakin’ Ben Stein
And that movie on Stupid Design
Cos if we’re created
It’s clear that God hated
Our asses—or maybe just mine.
So, hate is the topic today
Or dislike, or annoyance, dismay,
Hot and bothered vexation
Or mere irritation—
I’m sure you have something to say!
That's right--the topic today is whatever annoys you. Irritates you. Bothers you. Steams your clams. Burns your beans. Gets your goat. Harshes your mellow. Pisses in your cornflakes. Frays your last nerve...
You get the point. Have at it!
(One thing that does not make me mad--I was very happy to see all the limericks last week! And I'd love to see more--I know I have lurkers here, not commenting; come on! Limericks are easy!)
Of the things that keep getting me pissed
I’ll remember them all
From the great to the small
And be mad if there’s any I’ve missed
Like, for instance, the country’s at war
And the president’s judgment is poor
There’s so much we could choose
To explore in the news,
But they lead with the Guv and the whore.
And I’m mad cos I watch my TV
When I know what it’s doing to me—
My blood pressure rises
As shows award prizes
For crap I would pay not to see.
And I’m angry at freakin’ Ben Stein
And that movie on Stupid Design
Cos if we’re created
It’s clear that God hated
Our asses—or maybe just mine.
So, hate is the topic today
Or dislike, or annoyance, dismay,
Hot and bothered vexation
Or mere irritation—
I’m sure you have something to say!
That's right--the topic today is whatever annoys you. Irritates you. Bothers you. Steams your clams. Burns your beans. Gets your goat. Harshes your mellow. Pisses in your cornflakes. Frays your last nerve...
You get the point. Have at it!
(One thing that does not make me mad--I was very happy to see all the limericks last week! And I'd love to see more--I know I have lurkers here, not commenting; come on! Limericks are easy!)
Thursday, March 27, 2008
"Hey Mikey, let's go dig up some dragons!"
Hmm... PZ finds it sad, but I have a bit of a different reaction, to the Hallettestoneian Sea Zoria Dragons. The video (you can see it at either link) is one of the best examples of "do not make your video this way" that I have ever seen, but that is such a minor point. The video, and indeed the entire paleontological expedition, has the innocence of a child's exploration of really cool rocks, before he or she gets told that there is a right way to do these things.
I fondly remember, from decades ago,
A boy mostly covered by dirt,
I would play with my friends in the forests or swamps,
Not stop until someone got hurt.
No video games and no organized sport,
We’d dig and explore in the field
Examine our treasures, excited to see
What each following foray might yield.
My brothers and I, upon one of these days,
Discovered a dinosaur find;
It was really just rocks, and of course we both knew,
Not a fossil of any real kind.
We invented a species; we found him a niche,
As a rock-eating, four-legged giant,
And dug up more pieces to fill in the blanks—
On rocks we were very reliant.
My mother taught high-school biology, so
She encouraged the way we explored,
And gave real information, which we could relate
To this dinosaur we so adored.
So now, when I look at Mike Hallett’s stone dragons
I’m more than a little bit jealous;
He’s doing what I did at seven years old
(And you have to admit, the man’s zealous);
He’s digging in dirt, and he’s making up stuff
About dragons from long, long ago,
Like a Peter Pan Paleontologist, maybe
He chose, for himself, not to grow.
Yes, maybe the man is a bit out of touch
And reality’s not his best friend,
But maybe he had the same fun as a kid
And just doesn’t want it to end.
I fondly remember, from decades ago,
A boy mostly covered by dirt,
I would play with my friends in the forests or swamps,
Not stop until someone got hurt.
No video games and no organized sport,
We’d dig and explore in the field
Examine our treasures, excited to see
What each following foray might yield.
My brothers and I, upon one of these days,
Discovered a dinosaur find;
It was really just rocks, and of course we both knew,
Not a fossil of any real kind.
We invented a species; we found him a niche,
As a rock-eating, four-legged giant,
And dug up more pieces to fill in the blanks—
On rocks we were very reliant.
My mother taught high-school biology, so
She encouraged the way we explored,
And gave real information, which we could relate
To this dinosaur we so adored.
So now, when I look at Mike Hallett’s stone dragons
I’m more than a little bit jealous;
He’s doing what I did at seven years old
(And you have to admit, the man’s zealous);
He’s digging in dirt, and he’s making up stuff
About dragons from long, long ago,
Like a Peter Pan Paleontologist, maybe
He chose, for himself, not to grow.
Yes, maybe the man is a bit out of touch
And reality’s not his best friend,
But maybe he had the same fun as a kid
And just doesn’t want it to end.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Expelled: The Ballad
Come gather round people, I’ll sing you the tale
It’s bigger by far than a land-dwelling whale
Compared to it, stories from Shakespeare will pale
It’s glitter, and glamour, and glory,
More drama than all the last season of Maury
It all started out with a promising plan
With two different views of the journey of Man
And so nice and friendly was how it began
At the Crossroads with Dawkins and Myers
But the movie crew all were creationist liars
They enlisted the help of the actor Ben Stein
Who showed he could toe the creationist line
In a droning, annoying, monotonous whine
He ridicules notions of fitness
Ignoring the ban against bearing false witness
Now nobody knew what the final cut held
Though various leaks gave a hint that it smelled
Like someone’s abdominal gas was expelled
A film that was fighting for freedom
Apparently only the freedom to be dumb
For instance one segment that somebody saw
Molecular momement that just drops your jaw
Especially if you know your copyright law
Those molecules just kept on rollin’
Not caring if anyone knew they were stolen
So PZ decided to give it a view
To spare the annoyance for me and for you
And he signed up online like they asked him to do
With family and friend, he awaited
But his efforts to see it would end up frustrated
The producer saw Myers, and told him to stop
(Well, not by himself—through a theatre cop)
PZ acquiesced, and he went to a shop
Where he put the adventure to writing
And the people who read it all found it exciting
“But the funniest thing of the evening” he said
“Was that I had to leave, but my friend went ahead
This mild-mannered Englishman, calls me P-Zed
Despite all their squeakins and squawkins
The fools threw me out, but let in Richard Dawkins!”
The movie reviews are predictably bad
And Myers, who missed it, is secretly glad
And trust the producers to put out an ad
Defiantly claiming they’re winning
But nothing is heard but the sound of their spinning
It’s bigger by far than a land-dwelling whale
Compared to it, stories from Shakespeare will pale
It’s glitter, and glamour, and glory,
More drama than all the last season of Maury
It all started out with a promising plan
With two different views of the journey of Man
And so nice and friendly was how it began
At the Crossroads with Dawkins and Myers
But the movie crew all were creationist liars
They enlisted the help of the actor Ben Stein
Who showed he could toe the creationist line
In a droning, annoying, monotonous whine
He ridicules notions of fitness
Ignoring the ban against bearing false witness
Now nobody knew what the final cut held
Though various leaks gave a hint that it smelled
Like someone’s abdominal gas was expelled
A film that was fighting for freedom
Apparently only the freedom to be dumb
For instance one segment that somebody saw
Molecular momement that just drops your jaw
Especially if you know your copyright law
Those molecules just kept on rollin’
Not caring if anyone knew they were stolen
So PZ decided to give it a view
To spare the annoyance for me and for you
And he signed up online like they asked him to do
With family and friend, he awaited
But his efforts to see it would end up frustrated
The producer saw Myers, and told him to stop
(Well, not by himself—through a theatre cop)
PZ acquiesced, and he went to a shop
Where he put the adventure to writing
And the people who read it all found it exciting
“But the funniest thing of the evening” he said
“Was that I had to leave, but my friend went ahead
This mild-mannered Englishman, calls me P-Zed
Despite all their squeakins and squawkins
The fools threw me out, but let in Richard Dawkins!”
The movie reviews are predictably bad
And Myers, who missed it, is secretly glad
And trust the producers to put out an ad
Defiantly claiming they’re winning
But nothing is heard but the sound of their spinning
Sally Kern Speaks Again
...I was hoping Ms. Kern would get a chance to speak publicly. It really is difficult to know whether a clip on YouTube has been taken out of context, or highly edited, or entirely too accurate. So it is nice when someone can show up to rebut or confirm statements that they made. Especially in the case of Sally Kern, where what she said was so vile.
Anyway, here she is, on local television in Oklahoma. The show is "Flash Point", on Channel 4, Sunday mornings at 9:30. This show was last weekend--Easter Sunday. Sally is a guest in the first two segments, along with Pastor Scott Jones of the Cathedral of Hope in Oklahoma City. The pastor happens to be gay, which on the face of is suggests that Sally's view of homosexuality and Christianity as being incompatible is... not a unanimous view. (It is worth watching.)
Seems that Sally said nothing wrong. Her analogies--Cancer, Terrorism, for instance--were poorly chosen. She only means to say that the homosexual lifestyle is deadly to the country, that if not eradicated it will grow and lead to the death of christianity and our country as we know it. But that, of course, is not hate speech.
I don't know which would be more offensive--to have Sally say these things, knowing full well that they are hate speech, or (as seems to be the case) to have her utterly oblivious to the fact that an unfavorable comparison to cancer and terrorism might...just might...be seen as offensive.
Oklahoma’s Channel Four
Invited Sally Kern once more
To clarify her stated views,
Which everybody misconstrues.
And so, on Easter Sunday morn,
That target of such global scorn,
Ms. Kern sat down to set us straight
And speak to us of love, not hate.
The moderator, channel 4’s
Own Kevin Ogle set the course,
Reminding us that Sally’s speech,
Because of YouTube, now could reach
The far-flung corners of the world
Where anti-Sally flags unfurled.
He said that her remarks “enraged
The gay community”, then assuaged
Our fears by saying he would search
For common ground where we could perch.
(In truth it was not only gays
Who found a fault in Sally’s ways—
To frame it as he did was wrong,
But for the while, let’s play along.)
The panel guests this Easter were
Ms. Kern, and then across from her,
Scott Jones, an Oklahoma pastor;
Both held Christ as lord and master.
(Just one thing more, I think I may
Have left the bit where Scott is gay.
That might mean squat to me or you,
But Sally has a different view.)
She had the chance to make amends,
But rather, Sally Kern defends
Her homophobic comments. Great.
At least, she claims, it is not hate.
And there she may be right, you see—
It may be plain stupidity.
Her ignorance of science might
Explain why she’s convinced she’s right.
Polite and calm was Pastor Jones,
He asked of Kern, in even tones,
If it was hate, or maybe humor,
Saying gays were like a tumor.
“Oh, no, no, no!” came Sally’s answer;
“I don’t mean gays are really cancer—
Just that we must stop their spread,
Or if we don’t, we’ll end up dead--
See, cancer in your little toe
Can travel to your brain, you know.”
So gays are not true mutant cells,
According to what Sally tells,
She only meant that, to grow old,
The spread of gays must be controlled.
There’s no hate there she can discern,
Just metaphor from Sally Kern.
Her choice of words, the pastor urged,
Showed she thought gays ought be purged;
Compared to cancer? Terrorists?
These words are hateful, he insists,
The words she chose are worse than vile
But Sally Kern is in denial.
She says that isn’t what she meant,
Those weren’t the feelings that she sent.
She loves the gays as much as you—
Just hates the evil things they do.
When gays join in democracy
Where moral people used to be
It hurts the nation, we must learn
From moralists like Sally Kern.
It’s nice that Sally Kern can speak;
We’d only thus far had a peek
At her beliefs, but now we see
She says the same things on TV.
She does not try to hide her views,
So next time, voters, when you choose,
Recall the words that Sally said,
And wonder what is in her head—
It could be hatred, but you see,
It could just be stupidity.
I hope the latter. Folks can learn.
And that’s my wish for Sally Kern.
Anyway, here she is, on local television in Oklahoma. The show is "Flash Point", on Channel 4, Sunday mornings at 9:30. This show was last weekend--Easter Sunday. Sally is a guest in the first two segments, along with Pastor Scott Jones of the Cathedral of Hope in Oklahoma City. The pastor happens to be gay, which on the face of is suggests that Sally's view of homosexuality and Christianity as being incompatible is... not a unanimous view. (It is worth watching.)
Seems that Sally said nothing wrong. Her analogies--Cancer, Terrorism, for instance--were poorly chosen. She only means to say that the homosexual lifestyle is deadly to the country, that if not eradicated it will grow and lead to the death of christianity and our country as we know it. But that, of course, is not hate speech.
I don't know which would be more offensive--to have Sally say these things, knowing full well that they are hate speech, or (as seems to be the case) to have her utterly oblivious to the fact that an unfavorable comparison to cancer and terrorism might...just might...be seen as offensive.
Oklahoma’s Channel Four
Invited Sally Kern once more
To clarify her stated views,
Which everybody misconstrues.
And so, on Easter Sunday morn,
That target of such global scorn,
Ms. Kern sat down to set us straight
And speak to us of love, not hate.
The moderator, channel 4’s
Own Kevin Ogle set the course,
Reminding us that Sally’s speech,
Because of YouTube, now could reach
The far-flung corners of the world
Where anti-Sally flags unfurled.
He said that her remarks “enraged
The gay community”, then assuaged
Our fears by saying he would search
For common ground where we could perch.
(In truth it was not only gays
Who found a fault in Sally’s ways—
To frame it as he did was wrong,
But for the while, let’s play along.)
The panel guests this Easter were
Ms. Kern, and then across from her,
Scott Jones, an Oklahoma pastor;
Both held Christ as lord and master.
(Just one thing more, I think I may
Have left the bit where Scott is gay.
That might mean squat to me or you,
But Sally has a different view.)
She had the chance to make amends,
But rather, Sally Kern defends
Her homophobic comments. Great.
At least, she claims, it is not hate.
And there she may be right, you see—
It may be plain stupidity.
Her ignorance of science might
Explain why she’s convinced she’s right.
Polite and calm was Pastor Jones,
He asked of Kern, in even tones,
If it was hate, or maybe humor,
Saying gays were like a tumor.
“Oh, no, no, no!” came Sally’s answer;
“I don’t mean gays are really cancer—
Just that we must stop their spread,
Or if we don’t, we’ll end up dead--
See, cancer in your little toe
Can travel to your brain, you know.”
So gays are not true mutant cells,
According to what Sally tells,
She only meant that, to grow old,
The spread of gays must be controlled.
There’s no hate there she can discern,
Just metaphor from Sally Kern.
Her choice of words, the pastor urged,
Showed she thought gays ought be purged;
Compared to cancer? Terrorists?
These words are hateful, he insists,
The words she chose are worse than vile
But Sally Kern is in denial.
She says that isn’t what she meant,
Those weren’t the feelings that she sent.
She loves the gays as much as you—
Just hates the evil things they do.
When gays join in democracy
Where moral people used to be
It hurts the nation, we must learn
From moralists like Sally Kern.
It’s nice that Sally Kern can speak;
We’d only thus far had a peek
At her beliefs, but now we see
She says the same things on TV.
She does not try to hide her views,
So next time, voters, when you choose,
Recall the words that Sally said,
And wonder what is in her head—
It could be hatred, but you see,
It could just be stupidity.
I hope the latter. Folks can learn.
And that’s my wish for Sally Kern.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
T. M. I. (too much information)
...No, not the wonderful song by Roy Zimmerman, just letting you know that you might want to stop now, if you don't like hearing about... well...
Oh, by the way, (Yes, this is by way of giving you enough time to change your mind--just don't blame me, ok?) Roy Zimmerman's new newsletter just came out; I'd copy it all here, but why don't you just go to royzimmerman.com and look around for a bit? You won't regret it. I have autographed copies of just about everything. Except the latest, I think. Roy is one of my idols (yes, I have a list--don't you?).
Anyway, you now have officially had enough time to think "hmm, maybe he is serious about this too much information stuff...", so at this point I am no longer responsible.
I had surgery last week. Yup. Wednesday. Been on painkillers since then, and what with the Myers vs Expelled stuff, I had my biggest hit day on this blog, for something written pretty much with just the reptilian part of my brain, because the rest was being used either feeling pain or watching the room decide which way to spin. And what does a cuttlefish do when bleeding, in pain and on oxycodone? Verse, of course.
Painfully, strainfully,
Digital Cuttlefish
Wishes his poetry
Showed some more class;
Sadly, effects of a
Hemorrhoidectomy
Limit his thoughts to his
Pain in the ass.
Yup, that's a double-dactyl. They are fun. What is not fun, though, is the first bowel movement after a hemorh.. haeme.. after they cut part of your ass off. I thought I was fine--and I was, for the first couple of days. Took until Saturday for me to finally need to go... Now I know why they give opium derivatives. Ouch. ow ow ow ow ow ow owwwww....
Woozily, bruisily,
Suffering Sepia
Forces down fluids and
Tries not to strain;
Mutters his thanks to the
Pharmacological
Chemist-magicians who
Manage his pain.
I actually did thank the pharmacological industry. I mean, I know there are people in my position (prone, currently) who thank god for their drugs; I figure if you are gonna give credit for the drugs, ya gotta give blame for the piles in the first place, and then it just gets silly. So, no.
But I did have a great experience with the hospital people. My surgeon rocks--I'd say she kicks ass, but that metaphor is a bit lost on me at present. My nurses were great. I think, having read The Head Nurse's blog, that they were in fact the A team; lots of confidence, good humor, helping one another. The nurse who put in my IV was hilarious. Watching her, I said "looks like you've done this before"; without missing a beat, she replied "no, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night."
Anyway, time for bed. Whether I want to or not--oxycodone has that effect this late at night.
Sleepily, weepily,
Slumber is beckoning
Time to give thanks, cos it
Could have been worse—
Not to some deity,
Omnibenevolent;
I’ll give my thanks to each
Doctor and Nurse!
Good night, all.
Oh, by the way, (Yes, this is by way of giving you enough time to change your mind--just don't blame me, ok?) Roy Zimmerman's new newsletter just came out; I'd copy it all here, but why don't you just go to royzimmerman.com and look around for a bit? You won't regret it. I have autographed copies of just about everything. Except the latest, I think. Roy is one of my idols (yes, I have a list--don't you?).
Anyway, you now have officially had enough time to think "hmm, maybe he is serious about this too much information stuff...", so at this point I am no longer responsible.
I had surgery last week. Yup. Wednesday. Been on painkillers since then, and what with the Myers vs Expelled stuff, I had my biggest hit day on this blog, for something written pretty much with just the reptilian part of my brain, because the rest was being used either feeling pain or watching the room decide which way to spin. And what does a cuttlefish do when bleeding, in pain and on oxycodone? Verse, of course.
Painfully, strainfully,
Digital Cuttlefish
Wishes his poetry
Showed some more class;
Sadly, effects of a
Hemorrhoidectomy
Limit his thoughts to his
Pain in the ass.
Yup, that's a double-dactyl. They are fun. What is not fun, though, is the first bowel movement after a hemorh.. haeme.. after they cut part of your ass off. I thought I was fine--and I was, for the first couple of days. Took until Saturday for me to finally need to go... Now I know why they give opium derivatives. Ouch. ow ow ow ow ow ow owwwww....
Woozily, bruisily,
Suffering Sepia
Forces down fluids and
Tries not to strain;
Mutters his thanks to the
Pharmacological
Chemist-magicians who
Manage his pain.
I actually did thank the pharmacological industry. I mean, I know there are people in my position (prone, currently) who thank god for their drugs; I figure if you are gonna give credit for the drugs, ya gotta give blame for the piles in the first place, and then it just gets silly. So, no.
But I did have a great experience with the hospital people. My surgeon rocks--I'd say she kicks ass, but that metaphor is a bit lost on me at present. My nurses were great. I think, having read The Head Nurse's blog, that they were in fact the A team; lots of confidence, good humor, helping one another. The nurse who put in my IV was hilarious. Watching her, I said "looks like you've done this before"; without missing a beat, she replied "no, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night."
Anyway, time for bed. Whether I want to or not--oxycodone has that effect this late at night.
Sleepily, weepily,
Slumber is beckoning
Time to give thanks, cos it
Could have been worse—
Not to some deity,
Omnibenevolent;
I’ll give my thanks to each
Doctor and Nurse!
Good night, all.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Friday Limericks: Front Page Muse
The first installment of what I hope will become a regular feature--The Friday Limerick Post! In your comments, please add your own limericks! (sorry it is up a bit late--the power was out here this morning)
The topic this week: Front Page Muse. Whatever your local paper has on its front page, from soup to nuts, from sports to weather, from alpha to omega, those are the topics from which you get to choose! I'll start us off with this article, on the front page of the New York Times, about parents who are refusing to vaccinate their children, and the very serious increased risk to those children and to other children (because of the benefits of "herd immunity", which requires a substantial percentage of the population to be vaccinated) brought about by the misguided ignorance of these parents. It is worth reading the article... Meanwhile...
Although hundreds of thousands will die
From the measles, some parents deny
A life-saving vaccine,
Not because they are mean,
But because they have swallowed a lie.
Vaccinations are such a success
That diseases are noticed much less
So we start to relax,
And the anti-vax quacks
Take the chance to make science regress!
Though they don’t have one fact on their side,
At this point, it’s a matter of pride—
They can’t say they were wrong;
Their belief is so strong
And insanity won’t be denied.
Rule number one: Have fun!
Rule number two: Unless it contradicts rule number one, write a limerick, and maybe even link to your local newspaper so we can see where you are commenting from!
Rule number three: Lurking without posting limericks will be tolerated, but if we catch you we get to tickle you with an ostrich feather. So why not try a limerick?
The topic this week: Front Page Muse. Whatever your local paper has on its front page, from soup to nuts, from sports to weather, from alpha to omega, those are the topics from which you get to choose! I'll start us off with this article, on the front page of the New York Times, about parents who are refusing to vaccinate their children, and the very serious increased risk to those children and to other children (because of the benefits of "herd immunity", which requires a substantial percentage of the population to be vaccinated) brought about by the misguided ignorance of these parents. It is worth reading the article... Meanwhile...
Although hundreds of thousands will die
From the measles, some parents deny
A life-saving vaccine,
Not because they are mean,
But because they have swallowed a lie.
Vaccinations are such a success
That diseases are noticed much less
So we start to relax,
And the anti-vax quacks
Take the chance to make science regress!
Though they don’t have one fact on their side,
At this point, it’s a matter of pride—
They can’t say they were wrong;
Their belief is so strong
And insanity won’t be denied.
Rule number one: Have fun!
Rule number two: Unless it contradicts rule number one, write a limerick, and maybe even link to your local newspaper so we can see where you are commenting from!
Rule number three: Lurking without posting limericks will be tolerated, but if we catch you we get to tickle you with an ostrich feather. So why not try a limerick?
The Trojan Myers
When reinventing history
It’s best to keep the mystery;
If witnesses are noticed, it is best to take them out.
And although the act is telling,
You’d be better off expelling
Doctor Myers, if you see him, just because the man’s a lout.
You see, PZ is a witness
To the movie’s lack of fitness—
He is one selection pressure that would render it extinct.
So, with “WANTED!” posters printed,
To the cinema they sprinted,
And they passed around the mugshots just as soon as they were inked.
The policemen, at the ready,
Kept the ticket-takers steady
While they watched with eyes like eagles for the devil in disguise.
Yes! They spotted Dr. Myers,
Looking just like in their fliers!
The policemen, quite correctly, gave the doctor a surprise.
When they said he’d be arrested
If their actions he protested,
He complied at once (that should have raised suspicions, don’t you think?)
Once his actions had been thwarted
And he left the line, escorted,
Looking back to his companion in the line, he gave a wink….
So this little movie trip is
Like a Trojan Eohippus
That delivered Richard Dawkins deep within the fortress walls
I can’t wait to read the story
Of the battle and the glory—
Cos the trailer to this feature shows the hero’s got some balls!
Of course, inspired by these events on Pharyngula, and probably all over the web by now...
***update***
Since I am now being linked to by Brian at Laelaps, I figure I'll add the following bonus material...
In the intervening hours
Since the movie, all the powers
Of the two opposing sides have set their weaponry on "spin";
In a textbook case of framing,
The producers now are claiming
That of course they noticed Dawkins, and they gladly let him in!
They'd have done the same for PZ,
But he did not make it easy--
As the testimony given by one local witness claims;
As he tells it, Dr. Myers,
Drinking blood and breathing fires,
Was disruptive and obnoxious, playing atheistic games!
Now more stories are diverging
And it's clear they need no urging
To elaborate on fictions in the service of their lies;
We may yet see more mutation
As the story sweeps the nation;
That a fable keeps evolving, well, it's really no surprise.
It’s best to keep the mystery;
If witnesses are noticed, it is best to take them out.
And although the act is telling,
You’d be better off expelling
Doctor Myers, if you see him, just because the man’s a lout.
You see, PZ is a witness
To the movie’s lack of fitness—
He is one selection pressure that would render it extinct.
So, with “WANTED!” posters printed,
To the cinema they sprinted,
And they passed around the mugshots just as soon as they were inked.
The policemen, at the ready,
Kept the ticket-takers steady
While they watched with eyes like eagles for the devil in disguise.
Yes! They spotted Dr. Myers,
Looking just like in their fliers!
The policemen, quite correctly, gave the doctor a surprise.
When they said he’d be arrested
If their actions he protested,
He complied at once (that should have raised suspicions, don’t you think?)
Once his actions had been thwarted
And he left the line, escorted,
Looking back to his companion in the line, he gave a wink….
So this little movie trip is
Like a Trojan Eohippus
That delivered Richard Dawkins deep within the fortress walls
I can’t wait to read the story
Of the battle and the glory—
Cos the trailer to this feature shows the hero’s got some balls!
Of course, inspired by these events on Pharyngula, and probably all over the web by now...
***update***
Since I am now being linked to by Brian at Laelaps, I figure I'll add the following bonus material...
In the intervening hours
Since the movie, all the powers
Of the two opposing sides have set their weaponry on "spin";
In a textbook case of framing,
The producers now are claiming
That of course they noticed Dawkins, and they gladly let him in!
They'd have done the same for PZ,
But he did not make it easy--
As the testimony given by one local witness claims;
As he tells it, Dr. Myers,
Drinking blood and breathing fires,
Was disruptive and obnoxious, playing atheistic games!
Now more stories are diverging
And it's clear they need no urging
To elaborate on fictions in the service of their lies;
We may yet see more mutation
As the story sweeps the nation;
That a fable keeps evolving, well, it's really no surprise.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Dicyemid mesozoa are not cute at all.
So P-Zed was getting all moon-eyed and silver-tongued over parasites. Parasites that live in the kidneys of cephalopods, getting their nutrients from urine, much like Sally Kern. Anyway, his love letter to these beasties is a wonderful example of the passion that scientists have for their work. Uncovering the mysteries of the natural world does not take the beauty out of it; rather, knowledge enhances our appreciation for everything in the real world. In the words of Douglas Adams (who said nearly everything better than nearly anyone else did), "I'd take the awe of understanding over the awe of ignorance any day." If you are one of those rare readers here who do not already read Pharyngula, I seriously recommend following the above link to see that principle in action.
But as a cuttlefish, I was a bit miffed. "Oooh, aren't they lovely!" "What an elegant illustration of evolution at work!" "Much more lovely than mere puppy dogs!" Hmph. Think of the cephalopods! Won't somebody, please, think of the cephalopods?
So that's what I was sensing! As discomfort was commencing,
Inflammation in my kidneys as I swam in the abyss
Was where parasites were feeding, and (in both their ways) were breeding,
And now Myers, metaphorically, joins in to take the piss.
A biologist, his duty is to rhapsodize their beauty
But a little sensitivity is all a 'pod can ask!
Yes, I get that it's exciting--I can see that in his writing--
Guess I only wish he didn't take such pleasure in the task.
"O dicyemid mesozoan", while inside my pain is growin'
"Let me count the ways I love you", like this parasite is heaven
Then the dude proceeds in counting, while my agony is mounting,
And he doesn't stop until he's all the way to fucking seven!
Oh, for those who wonder about these things--this one was one of the verses that might as well have been self-writing. Less than 15 minutes, and it came out in final form. I love it when that happens.
But as a cuttlefish, I was a bit miffed. "Oooh, aren't they lovely!" "What an elegant illustration of evolution at work!" "Much more lovely than mere puppy dogs!" Hmph. Think of the cephalopods! Won't somebody, please, think of the cephalopods?
So that's what I was sensing! As discomfort was commencing,
Inflammation in my kidneys as I swam in the abyss
Was where parasites were feeding, and (in both their ways) were breeding,
And now Myers, metaphorically, joins in to take the piss.
A biologist, his duty is to rhapsodize their beauty
But a little sensitivity is all a 'pod can ask!
Yes, I get that it's exciting--I can see that in his writing--
Guess I only wish he didn't take such pleasure in the task.
"O dicyemid mesozoan", while inside my pain is growin'
"Let me count the ways I love you", like this parasite is heaven
Then the dude proceeds in counting, while my agony is mounting,
And he doesn't stop until he's all the way to fucking seven!
Oh, for those who wonder about these things--this one was one of the verses that might as well have been self-writing. Less than 15 minutes, and it came out in final form. I love it when that happens.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Limerick/War
Ok, I wasn't going to post this, but what the heck... Pharyngula's nice light fluffy topic of the morning is, sorta, whether war is part of the nature of humankind, and whether we can conceivably put an end to it.
Well you ask "What's the purpose of war--
All the bombs, and the bullets, and gore?"
Though we all know it's wrong
We've been at it so long
We've forgotten just what it is for.
One answer that's there on the table,
Though I'm fully aware that it's fable:
As descendents of Cain
We make war, in the main,
Just because we can't stop--we're not Abel.
Or, perhaps, it is all in our genes,
Although no one knows quite what that means
Is the dominant trait
Disposition to hate,
Or a fondness for noisy machines?
Are we programmed for war in our head?
Is it just that we're easily led?
I think we should strive
To find out, while alive,
Cos it's surely too late once we're dead.
Can we change predilection for fighting
For something else, just as exciting?
The next border dispute,
Try an alternate route--
Say, competitive limerick writing!
Any comments not in limerick form will, of course, be deleted!!!
Well you ask "What's the purpose of war--
All the bombs, and the bullets, and gore?"
Though we all know it's wrong
We've been at it so long
We've forgotten just what it is for.
One answer that's there on the table,
Though I'm fully aware that it's fable:
As descendents of Cain
We make war, in the main,
Just because we can't stop--we're not Abel.
Or, perhaps, it is all in our genes,
Although no one knows quite what that means
Is the dominant trait
Disposition to hate,
Or a fondness for noisy machines?
Are we programmed for war in our head?
Is it just that we're easily led?
I think we should strive
To find out, while alive,
Cos it's surely too late once we're dead.
Can we change predilection for fighting
For something else, just as exciting?
The next border dispute,
Try an alternate route--
Say, competitive limerick writing!
Any comments not in limerick form will, of course, be deleted!!!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
I Thought I Saw An Atheist
P-Zed reports that The Atheists Are Coming!
I thought I saw an atheist, once, walking down the street.
I checked for horns, I checked for tail, I checked for cloven feet;
Began to tremble frightfully—my heart was in my throat—
Then sighed in happy recognition, for ‘twas but a goat.
I thought I saw an atheist, down near a swollen stream
With scaly skin, and blood so cold, I couldn’t breathe to scream!
I looked into his bulging eyes, and prayed “God, grant my wish”
Then laughed in my embarrassment—it only was a fish.
I thought I saw an atheist, with fur and pointed claws,
And wicked teeth for chewing up Judeo-Christian laws,
I ran, and tripped, and fell to earth, then hid behind a log—
It caught me, though, and licked my face—of course, it was a dog.
I thought I saw an atheist, though cleverly disguised
Not giant and reptilian, but human, normal sized,
It looked to be engaging in productive, useful labor;
But no, this was no atheist—this person was my neighbor!
I thought I saw an atheist; in fact, I saw a few!
My neighbor, and the grocer, and the cop, and maybe you!
I even found some in the church, right there beneath the steeple;
It turns out, to my great surprise… that atheists are people.
I thought I saw an atheist, once, walking down the street.
I checked for horns, I checked for tail, I checked for cloven feet;
Began to tremble frightfully—my heart was in my throat—
Then sighed in happy recognition, for ‘twas but a goat.
I thought I saw an atheist, down near a swollen stream
With scaly skin, and blood so cold, I couldn’t breathe to scream!
I looked into his bulging eyes, and prayed “God, grant my wish”
Then laughed in my embarrassment—it only was a fish.
I thought I saw an atheist, with fur and pointed claws,
And wicked teeth for chewing up Judeo-Christian laws,
I ran, and tripped, and fell to earth, then hid behind a log—
It caught me, though, and licked my face—of course, it was a dog.
I thought I saw an atheist, though cleverly disguised
Not giant and reptilian, but human, normal sized,
It looked to be engaging in productive, useful labor;
But no, this was no atheist—this person was my neighbor!
I thought I saw an atheist; in fact, I saw a few!
My neighbor, and the grocer, and the cop, and maybe you!
I even found some in the church, right there beneath the steeple;
It turns out, to my great surprise… that atheists are people.
Friday, March 14, 2008
My Enemy's Enemy...?
As reported on Pharyngula, a common prescientific mythology is making strange bedfellows these days. This time, the Turkish Islamic anti-Darwin movement is aided and abetted by American fundamentalist Christian conservatives. No, really. Yeah, I had to read it twice, too.
Well, it's not like that's an area of the world where Christians and Muslims have had any history of strife, at least. *ahem* Yeah. well...
Creationists of every stripe—
The people who can stomach tripe—
Have joined together in defense
Of Faith opposed to evidence.
Islam and Christianity
Throughout the course of history
Have rarely been the best of friends
But now, it seems, their fighting ends.
Has someone finally seen the light,
And seen the reasons that they fight
Are foolish little arguments
That anyone with common sense
Could see are not worth fighting for?
Cos that would be exciting! Or
Has something posed a greater threat
Than anything encountered yet,
Through centuries of outright war?
(Remember, what they’re fighting for
Is their religion—and what’s odd
They share the Abrahamic God!)
Well… sorta. They have joined to fight
The most disgusting in God’s sight;
The ones who stoop so awfully low
And challenge what these theists know—
That’s right, those dreadful scientists
Are now the scourge that tops the lists!
The U.S. Christians on the right
Have joined together in the fight
And arm-in-arm with Muslim Turks
They fight the growing threat that lurks
In science classrooms everywhere!
Why, you can look, if you should care
From elementary school to college,
Anywhere they’re spreading knowledge:
If fact and logic help you choose,
You threaten our religious views!
Holy wars, crusades, jihads,
Are minor things. This threat to God’s
The greatest of the present dangers,
Making allies out of strangers.
So join me, fighting science, brother—
Tomorrow we can kill each other.
Well, it's not like that's an area of the world where Christians and Muslims have had any history of strife, at least. *ahem* Yeah. well...
Creationists of every stripe—
The people who can stomach tripe—
Have joined together in defense
Of Faith opposed to evidence.
Islam and Christianity
Throughout the course of history
Have rarely been the best of friends
But now, it seems, their fighting ends.
Has someone finally seen the light,
And seen the reasons that they fight
Are foolish little arguments
That anyone with common sense
Could see are not worth fighting for?
Cos that would be exciting! Or
Has something posed a greater threat
Than anything encountered yet,
Through centuries of outright war?
(Remember, what they’re fighting for
Is their religion—and what’s odd
They share the Abrahamic God!)
Well… sorta. They have joined to fight
The most disgusting in God’s sight;
The ones who stoop so awfully low
And challenge what these theists know—
That’s right, those dreadful scientists
Are now the scourge that tops the lists!
The U.S. Christians on the right
Have joined together in the fight
And arm-in-arm with Muslim Turks
They fight the growing threat that lurks
In science classrooms everywhere!
Why, you can look, if you should care
From elementary school to college,
Anywhere they’re spreading knowledge:
If fact and logic help you choose,
You threaten our religious views!
Holy wars, crusades, jihads,
Are minor things. This threat to God’s
The greatest of the present dangers,
Making allies out of strangers.
So join me, fighting science, brother—
Tomorrow we can kill each other.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
With Apologies To Bob Dylan...
Early this mornin’ the snow was fallin’
I’d just crawled outta bed
Wond’rin’ if I could find the coffee
While my eyes were still red.
The newsman said, as he always does
The day was gonna be rough
He never could find any happy news
And my paycheck’s never enough.
And I was sittin’ at the kitchen table
Havin’ some breakfast pie
Looking out on the internet
And I stumbled on this Guy, you know who,
Tangled Up In Blue.
He had posts about water-boarding,
Poverty, Death, and Abuse
Political dancing all over the world
Where the Devil’s gotten loose
Pointed out laws in 43 states
Where shove has come to push
And gays must sit in the back of the bus
While the driver, mister Bush,
Who’s looking out for his legacy
(Which doesn’t stand a chance)
I have to wonder, when he’s with Cheney,
Which one leads when they dance, the pas de deux,
On Tangled Up In Blue
(in other words, the Carnival of the Liberals is up on Tangled Up In Blue Guy. And he included my entry!)
I’d just crawled outta bed
Wond’rin’ if I could find the coffee
While my eyes were still red.
The newsman said, as he always does
The day was gonna be rough
He never could find any happy news
And my paycheck’s never enough.
And I was sittin’ at the kitchen table
Havin’ some breakfast pie
Looking out on the internet
And I stumbled on this Guy, you know who,
Tangled Up In Blue.
He had posts about water-boarding,
Poverty, Death, and Abuse
Political dancing all over the world
Where the Devil’s gotten loose
Pointed out laws in 43 states
Where shove has come to push
And gays must sit in the back of the bus
While the driver, mister Bush,
Who’s looking out for his legacy
(Which doesn’t stand a chance)
I have to wonder, when he’s with Cheney,
Which one leads when they dance, the pas de deux,
On Tangled Up In Blue
(in other words, the Carnival of the Liberals is up on Tangled Up In Blue Guy. And he included my entry!)
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The Ballad of Sally Kern Redux
A talented commenter has immortalized my "Ballad of Sally Kern" in glorious technicolor on YouTube!!!
(Can you tell that's never happened to me before? Yeah, I am a little excited.) Take a look!
I love it!
(Can you tell that's never happened to me before? Yeah, I am a little excited.) Take a look!
I love it!
Monday, March 10, 2008
The Ballad of Sally Kern
Via Dispatches From the Culture Wars, a video making the rounds. Oklahoma legislator Sally Kern missed the politician's lesson about the combination of microphones and internet, and unwisely revealed her true feelings to a small gathering. If you have not seen it yet, it is worth viewing:
Sweet, isn't she, to be so concerned for us? Anyway, I wrote her a little poem. I must point out, in case she wants to try to sue me later, that the words I have put into her mouth are not hers. At least, not from this particular speech. It is poetic license, hyperbole, and a very low Godwin number.
A legislator, Sally Kern,
Was simply voicing her concern,
But Sally Kern was unaware,
Or if she knew, she did not care,
That someone had a microphone
So Sally Kern was not alone.
“Oh, I’m not anti-gay” said Sally,
To the fifty-person rally;
“But there are things you have to learn”
And who will teach us? Sally Kern.
Sally Kern, she knows the answer—
Knows how gays are like a cancer,
Knows they’re worse than terrorists
If Sally Kern can keep the lists.
So Sally Kern must raise her voice
Against unhealthy lifestyle choice;
The cost of life against God’s Word
Is clear, the people gathered heard:
Disease and death, and then you burn
In Hell, or so says Sally Kern.
Then Sally Kern, in pure effrontery,
Tells us gays will harm our country:
If we embrace these sinful ways,
Says Sally Kern, allowing gays
To join the City Council ranks
Or work in schools, or stores, or banks,
Our country would be tempting fate,
And all too soon would be too late.
Now, such a stance may seem too stern
But heed the words of Sally Kern;
If we let gays live right among us,
Soon, like mold, or creeping fungus,
Even straights will be infected—
Sally Kern wants us protected.
The path to safety is God’s Grace:
We must protect the human race.
Sally Kern just wants us purer…
Right. Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Fuhrer.
Sweet, isn't she, to be so concerned for us? Anyway, I wrote her a little poem. I must point out, in case she wants to try to sue me later, that the words I have put into her mouth are not hers. At least, not from this particular speech. It is poetic license, hyperbole, and a very low Godwin number.
A legislator, Sally Kern,
Was simply voicing her concern,
But Sally Kern was unaware,
Or if she knew, she did not care,
That someone had a microphone
So Sally Kern was not alone.
“Oh, I’m not anti-gay” said Sally,
To the fifty-person rally;
“But there are things you have to learn”
And who will teach us? Sally Kern.
Sally Kern, she knows the answer—
Knows how gays are like a cancer,
Knows they’re worse than terrorists
If Sally Kern can keep the lists.
So Sally Kern must raise her voice
Against unhealthy lifestyle choice;
The cost of life against God’s Word
Is clear, the people gathered heard:
Disease and death, and then you burn
In Hell, or so says Sally Kern.
Then Sally Kern, in pure effrontery,
Tells us gays will harm our country:
If we embrace these sinful ways,
Says Sally Kern, allowing gays
To join the City Council ranks
Or work in schools, or stores, or banks,
Our country would be tempting fate,
And all too soon would be too late.
Now, such a stance may seem too stern
But heed the words of Sally Kern;
If we let gays live right among us,
Soon, like mold, or creeping fungus,
Even straights will be infected—
Sally Kern wants us protected.
The path to safety is God’s Grace:
We must protect the human race.
Sally Kern just wants us purer…
Right. Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Fuhrer.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
A Book Review
I had completely forgotten about this little verse, a comment on PZed's review of Ken Ham's book on Darwin's alleged racism. But over at Quintessence of Dust, where I am quite flattered and honored to be mentioned in this week's Weekly Sampler, I find to my surprise that people actually read and remember the stuff I forget. So I am overjoyed to repost it here, just in case Pharyngula ever burns down, or gets popular enough that comments get lost among hundreds of others (yeah, right, like that could happen).
The rhyme scheme on this one was a lot of fun, now that I think back on it a bit. So thanks, Q of D, for the jab in the ribs.
Although to verse I'm not averse
(Oh, no, perverse is what I am)
With phrases terse, I could do worse
Than share the curse of tainted Ham.
In rhyme or prose, well, goodness knows,
I could compose this tale of mine;
And thus expose the growing nose
And lying pose of Kenneth Swine.
We're all aware he does not care
If truth is rare in what he's writ;
He says a prayer for public glare--
He's happy there, as pigs in shit.
Although he'll write that Black and White,
If Darwin's right, are different species
He takes delight, producing quite
(To be polite) a load of feces.
He knows he's wrong, but bobs along
Among the throngs of simple minds
There must be strong stuff in his bong
That makes him long for deep-fried rinds
It's no surprise his book of lies
Sees truth's demise in every word
If facts arise, they're in disguise--
Complete with flies, this one's a turd.
The rhyme scheme on this one was a lot of fun, now that I think back on it a bit. So thanks, Q of D, for the jab in the ribs.
Although to verse I'm not averse
(Oh, no, perverse is what I am)
With phrases terse, I could do worse
Than share the curse of tainted Ham.
In rhyme or prose, well, goodness knows,
I could compose this tale of mine;
And thus expose the growing nose
And lying pose of Kenneth Swine.
We're all aware he does not care
If truth is rare in what he's writ;
He says a prayer for public glare--
He's happy there, as pigs in shit.
Although he'll write that Black and White,
If Darwin's right, are different species
He takes delight, producing quite
(To be polite) a load of feces.
He knows he's wrong, but bobs along
Among the throngs of simple minds
There must be strong stuff in his bong
That makes him long for deep-fried rinds
It's no surprise his book of lies
Sees truth's demise in every word
If facts arise, they're in disguise--
Complete with flies, this one's a turd.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Love, Love, Love...
An interesting little post, over on Pharyngula; apparently some artist (not gonna link--he likes it when you link) has claimed that atheists, as far as he can tell, do not believe in love. News to me, of course, and I am certain it would surprise anyone who knew me. I would have thought that love was rather independent of a belief in any spiritual entity. Actually... if I stopped to think about it, an all-loving, all-powerful, all-knowing god, a god that is more important than your piddling little life here on earth (hey, look at the "rapture ready" crowd if you doubt there are people who view it that way), would make the Greatest Love Story On Earth a nothing in comparison.
Think about it. An omnipotent God could create the Grand Canyon with an infinitesimal part of His Effort--no need for millions of years of erosion, hell, it could have been on an off day, and a second best effort at that. No need to feel awe at the canyon; sure, it is greater than anything humankind could do, but it is nothing for God--you should see His work on the horsehead nebula!!
So, love. Human love. That amazing thing that makes your heart, your stomach, your head run around in circles and get happily dizzy just thinking about him/her... sorry, it is only the merest shadow of a shadow of God's Real Love For You (tm). Given the least opportunity, you really ought to leave your true love to join your True Love, and never regret.
Bullshit. I'll have none of it.
“An atheist cannot believe in love”
This statement puts me at a loss for words—
I’d really like to see him try to prove
His thesis; clearly it’s absurd.
Imagine, for a moment, God existed—
Omnipotent, Omniscient, Everywhere—
And just as preachers always have insisted,
God indeed was loving, and did care.
This love from God would dwarf our mortal hearts;
Your spouse’s love is nothing next to His.
The whole of human love, the smallest part
Of God’s, for His is all there really is.
I love. That is a fact, not mere façade;
Yes, love exists, which can’t be said of God.
Think about it. An omnipotent God could create the Grand Canyon with an infinitesimal part of His Effort--no need for millions of years of erosion, hell, it could have been on an off day, and a second best effort at that. No need to feel awe at the canyon; sure, it is greater than anything humankind could do, but it is nothing for God--you should see His work on the horsehead nebula!!
So, love. Human love. That amazing thing that makes your heart, your stomach, your head run around in circles and get happily dizzy just thinking about him/her... sorry, it is only the merest shadow of a shadow of God's Real Love For You (tm). Given the least opportunity, you really ought to leave your true love to join your True Love, and never regret.
Bullshit. I'll have none of it.
“An atheist cannot believe in love”
This statement puts me at a loss for words—
I’d really like to see him try to prove
His thesis; clearly it’s absurd.
Imagine, for a moment, God existed—
Omnipotent, Omniscient, Everywhere—
And just as preachers always have insisted,
God indeed was loving, and did care.
This love from God would dwarf our mortal hearts;
Your spouse’s love is nothing next to His.
The whole of human love, the smallest part
Of God’s, for His is all there really is.
I love. That is a fact, not mere façade;
Yes, love exists, which can’t be said of God.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Translating from Creationist to English
I’m looking for a linguist who can help me with translation—
For it seems two different languages are used within this nation;
Much more tricky than Bulgarian, more difficult than Greek
Is the twisted form of English that Creationists now speak.
The only rule, thus far, that I have managed to detect
In the reams of legal documents I’ve gathered to inspect,
Is that any word among them that’s significant, has changed
To a wholly different meaning, through some process that’s deranged.
When they say, for instance, “family”, they often mean their church,
And “society” is meaningless without the phrase “John Birch”
This wholesale transformation of the language is quite ruthless;
When they claim that “it’s the truth”, you can be certain that it’s truthless.
When “academic freedom” means that teachers have to lie
And “scientific evidence” comes straight from God on high,
“Intelligent”, “complexity” and most egregious, “theory”
Are transmogrified to such degree it makes my brain grow weary,
I know there must be something I can do to ease my pain
So I’m looking for a linguist, so that I can start to train.
I’ll start out easy: Black is White, and Up is often Down;
And Behe is a scientist of nationwide renown.
Now stretch a bit, with claims that are a little bit more bold:
The fossils say the earth is just a thousand decades old!
And DNA quite clearly shows the fingerprint of God
Evolution is religion, once you see through the façade.
This is getting really easy; now I think I have the knack:
Any doctor saying prayer is ineffective is a quack!
If we show sufficient faith we can turn hurricanes away—
If a city still gets flooded, it’s cos someone there was gay!
Now I’m really having fun; if you think you’d like to try,
There’s a simple, simple shortcut: all you have to do is lie!
(I will take this opportunity, to try it out again,
Wishing happiness, longevity, a sweet life free of pain,
To the Noble, Good Creationists, who fill me with delight!
Now, I need to find that linguist, but I think I said it right!)
For it seems two different languages are used within this nation;
Much more tricky than Bulgarian, more difficult than Greek
Is the twisted form of English that Creationists now speak.
The only rule, thus far, that I have managed to detect
In the reams of legal documents I’ve gathered to inspect,
Is that any word among them that’s significant, has changed
To a wholly different meaning, through some process that’s deranged.
When they say, for instance, “family”, they often mean their church,
And “society” is meaningless without the phrase “John Birch”
This wholesale transformation of the language is quite ruthless;
When they claim that “it’s the truth”, you can be certain that it’s truthless.
When “academic freedom” means that teachers have to lie
And “scientific evidence” comes straight from God on high,
“Intelligent”, “complexity” and most egregious, “theory”
Are transmogrified to such degree it makes my brain grow weary,
I know there must be something I can do to ease my pain
So I’m looking for a linguist, so that I can start to train.
I’ll start out easy: Black is White, and Up is often Down;
And Behe is a scientist of nationwide renown.
Now stretch a bit, with claims that are a little bit more bold:
The fossils say the earth is just a thousand decades old!
And DNA quite clearly shows the fingerprint of God
Evolution is religion, once you see through the façade.
This is getting really easy; now I think I have the knack:
Any doctor saying prayer is ineffective is a quack!
If we show sufficient faith we can turn hurricanes away—
If a city still gets flooded, it’s cos someone there was gay!
Now I’m really having fun; if you think you’d like to try,
There’s a simple, simple shortcut: all you have to do is lie!
(I will take this opportunity, to try it out again,
Wishing happiness, longevity, a sweet life free of pain,
To the Noble, Good Creationists, who fill me with delight!
Now, I need to find that linguist, but I think I said it right!)
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
There Is No "Away"
Ever wonder what happens when you throw a piece of plastic "away"?
Plastic contamination in the world's oceans is worse than previously imagined and no amount of technology can clean it up, according to Charles Moore. The oceanographer returned February 23 from a five-week odyssey in the Pacific Ocean with samples showing 48 parts plastic for every part of plankton.More at link above.
"We are damned to a future of pollution by plastic," said Moore, who has spent more than a decade investigating Pacific plastic pollution. "There's no evidence it will end in a millennium."
A plastic "graveyard" double the size of Texas swirls in the Pacific Ocean between San Francisco and Hawaii. There, his crew had found in the water six parts of plastic for every part plankton, with a fivefold increase in the amount of plastic between 1997 and 2007.
But their latest voyage found the pollution even thicker in the "highway" of ocean leading to the great Garbage Patch, according to Moore, who founded the Algalita Marine Research Foundation in Long Beach, Calif. Moore said that area comprises 2.5 million square miles.
In the Pacific alone, heavily polluted plastic zones amount to the size of the continent of Africa, Moore estimated.
I want to get mad; I just want to cry;
I want to do something, not sit idly by;
The problem is huge; the problem is drastic;
The oceans are choking with thrown-away plastic:
Plastic bags and sandwich wraps,
Toys and lighters, bottle caps;
One-use razors, plastic combs,
All the junk that fills our homes;
One part plankton, six parts trash—
The ecosystem’s bound to crash.
The plastics are forming new habitats too,
With small crabs and barnacles eating this goo,
And seagulls fly over to feed on crustaceans,
Though toxins are higher in these new locations.
A plastic graveyard, twice the size
Of Texas has been formed, and lies
Off Southern California’s coast.
This, only one among a host
Of garbage masses, giant isles,
Some 2.5 million square miles.
These plastics are coming from us—me and you—
We can’t simply wait; there are things we must do.
As much as we can—though we’re set in our ways—
We must change, and change quickly; no time for delays!
Demand greener packaging; vote with your dollars—
They say money talks; we can make sure ours hollers.
This cuttlefish fears for his relatives’ fate;
We have to get moving… or soon, it’s too late.
Image from Green Tech Blog--Credit: Algalita Marine Research Foundation
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