The 2008 IgNobels are awarded!

My hopes for an IgNobel in literature are dashed by David Sims, of Cass Business School, for his article in Organizational Studies (vol.26, no. 11, 2005, pp.1625-40). That bastard.

But the IgNobel prizes are always reason to celebrate. I hope this is merely the first of several verses inspired by this year's prizes--a bit combining The Economics prize (lap dancers earn higher tips when ovulating) and the Physics prize (mathematical proof that string tangles into knots). The two findings just seem to go together... or maybe it's just me. (The form is inspired by a song by Tim Minchin)


Are the twistings and gyrations of a dancer in a g-string
A sufficient agitation to reduce aforesaid panties
To a knot?

Are the naughty knotting knickers the spontaneous expression
Of the underlying physics of materials, or is it
Merely hot?

Do the pheromones emitted hint at multiple causation
When covariant regression says the dancers may be thinking
Of their eggs?

And the most perplexing question from a scientist's perspective--
How the devil did they justify expenditures to stare at
Women's legs?




In utterly unrelated news... apparently I was reddited; yesterday and today are my two highest hit counts, nearly five times my last maximum. I hope, some day, to be pharyngulated, to empirically compare the two effects...

Not today, though. Please.

Ignorance Ain't Bliss For Me

"I'd take the awe of understanding over the awe of ignorance any day"
--Douglas Adams

Think of the things a flagellum would tell ‘em
If only they knew how to open their eyes
The stuff they could see through their glasses surpasses
Their presuppositions, distortions and lies
If all they believe is the bible, they’re liable
To miss a real world that is there to be seen
But gladly the biblical thinkers wear blinkers
And try to decipher the code of the gene

It’s hard to imagine a finer designer
Than blind evolution and millions of years
But this explanation’s (quite oddly) ungodly
And quickly rejected for fanning their fears
They cannot accept evolution’s solutions
And make up a God who’s the cause of it all
Myself, I can’t use that religion, one smidgen
It’s selfish and petty; I can’t think that small

A Quack Guide To Intelligent Evolution

A quick and simple (in every sense of the word) guide to Intelligent Evolution makes good use of our old friend circular reasoning, assuming its conclusions all the way to proving the existence of the intelligent designer, simply by assuming that A) DNA is an example of "design" and B) all designs require a designer. They could have saved a step, by instead of using two false assumptions, simply assuming their final conclusion in one step, but I suppose that would have taken the fun out of it.

The code contained in DNA
Is evidence, or so they say,
God’s handiwork, there on display, the product of His Mind.
It’s plainly seen by any fool
It’s more than just a molecule
But rather, a precision tool that shows that we’re designed!

This molecule contains the clues
Creationists can gladly use
To show we did not come from ooze, through natural selection;
No “nature, red in tooth and claw”
But God, in wonderment and awe
Created, like a man of straw, his image in reflection.

A “pattern” differs from “design”
In elements which we define—
If your examples don’t match mine, why, mine are clearly right.
Our genes’ designs are clearly code;
A blueprint—Man, or tree, or toad—
From information God bestowed, in His most perfect Sight.

This Holy Blueprint I assume
Is proof we’re woven on God’s loom,
Created by the one to Whom we’re in eternal debt
The fact that I assumed it, true,
Could leave my “therefores” all askew
But have I ever lied to you? I wouldn’t take that bet.

You might suggest my logic’s flawed,
That my conclusion’s over-broad,
Or go all out and call me fraud—I’m doing righteous work!
I figured “What would Jesus do,
To have God’s message shining through?”
He’d lie, and cheat, and misconstrue, and be a total jerk!

And what’s important isn’t facts
But saving souls, and so the tracts
Say “judge them by their righteous acts” like lying in His name—
My logic’s circularity
Is more than mere hilarity
It’s honest Christian charity… and really, that’s a shame.



Cuttlecap tip to PZ, of course.

Rest of poem here.

I Thought I Saw An Atheist... In North Carolina

Our friends at Friendly Atheist and Daylight Atheism are in the spotlight these days. Senator Elizabeth Dole (R-NC) is attacking her opponent, Kay Hagen, simply by telling voters that Hagen, well, won't actively discriminate against atheists. Click through for the stories, even if you read PZ's take on it. As for me...

I thought I saw an atheist
Approach a voting booth—
Her voice was shrill, her eyes were wide
Her manner quite uncouth;
She tried to force her views on us
And exercise control—
I looked again—I’m wrong once more
Why, this was Liddy Dole.

I thought I saw an atheist
Discriminate and hate;
Deride a weak minority
Because the hour’s late—
To try to stir the masses
She’s been losing in the polls;
I looked again, and listened well—
Those words were Liddy Dole’s

I thought I saw an atheist,
So “radical” and “vile”
Wage war against America--
A villain with a smile
Promoting hate, promoting fear
For petty, selfish gain—
I looked again, and clearly saw
The Liddy Dole campaign

I thought I saw an atheist
Stand up and say “no more!”
I will not be your scapegoat
Like so many times before!
Americans, stand up as Christian
Muslim, Jew, and Pagan,
Or atheist, or anything,
And cast your vote for Hagan!

Of course, this poem expands on the original here and the first revisiting here.

International Cephalopod Appreciation and Awareness Day!

Cephalopodcast has some suggestions:

Top 10 Things You Can Do on Cephalopod Appreciation Day

1-- Make a Cephalopod
hansigurumi, home of peculiar knitted cephalopods and other original designs
Papercraft Flying Squid

2-- Wear a Cephalopod
Buy a plush squid hat
Make a quick squid costume using office supplies

.

.

.

Oops--their links did not work here. Oh well, you'll have to click through for the links, and for the rest of the top ten list!

I will suggest an 11th: Follow a cephalopod. In particular, follow a cuttlefish; even more specifically, follow a Digital Cuttlefish!

(I must admit, I really have no idea what all this "following" means, but I have noticed a handful of "followers" when I log on to blogger.com, and I figure I might as well make it easier for people to do this if it is something they are interested in.)

You may find it funny, you may find it odd
To follow a virtual cephalopod
But click if you wish, and follow me, follow,
For all of the verse (and much more) you can swallow!
If you want to sign up, or just think that you might,
The link's over there, just a bit to the right.

Being the obsessive type (what, really? NO! we couldn't tell!), I would love to see as many followers as possible. I don't know why. But if you like what you read here, or if you are angry and insulted by what you read here, or you just feel like clicking a link, sign up, tell your friends, tell your neighbors, tell your pets, tell your enemies (and their pets, too), and make me regret the day I even considered putting up a followers list!

Brother, Can You Spare....

What a long strange trip it's... nah, wrong music. It has, though, been the end of an era. Probably. Remember "Greed is good"? Remember Milken, and Boesky, and Schwarzman? Remember the parties, and the cocaine, and the opulence? Yeah, well, my dad remembered when his house was first wired for electricity, and the magic of turning on a bare lightbulb. Your kids and grandkids will find it all rather amusing.

I have given up predicting the future, but it certainly feels different this time. Seven Hundred Billion Dollars.

Actually, it feels like "dollars" are the wrong monetary unit. History has enshrined a particular coin as the touchstone of such situations... and even though the melody has to accommodate just a bit, it still has the right feel.

They used to tell me streets were paved with gold, they told me greed was good,
There were stocks and bonds and buildings to sell, millions to make if I could.
They used to tell me streets were paved with gold, all across this great land,
Why should I be off to D.C., holding out my hand?

Once I built a market, I watched it grow, every day in The Times
Once I built a market, well, you know... Brother, can you spare me…
Seven trillion dimes
Once I worked on Wall Street, I rolled in dough, with my partners in crimes
Once I worked on Wall Street, well, you know... Brother can you spare me…
Seven trillion dimes

Once in tacky suits, with condos to sell
Bullish on sub-prime real estate loans
Half a trillion bucks in short-terms as well
And I was the guy with the phones

Say, don’t you remember, you called me Hank, all throughout the Dow’s climbs
Say, don’t you remember, I ran your bank, buddy can you spare me…
Seven trillion dimes

Once in tacky suits, with condos to sell
Bullish on sub-prime real estate loans
Half a trillion bucks in short-terms as well
And I was the guy with the phones

Say, don’t you remember, you called me Hank, all throughout the Dow’s climbs
Say, don’t you remember, I ran your bank, buddy can you spare me…
Seven trillion dimes

Modern Technology Meets Bronze-Age Morality

PZ reports about the modesty police, the ultra-orthodox Jews who are justifiably fed up with lust and temptation, and are doing something about it! That's right, they are stoning women who dress provocatively and lead good men to evil thoughts.

PZ's suggestion?

Hey, I have a suggestion for all those fearful people who want to punish women for being so darn tempting. Instead of targeting women, let's have all orthodox, fundamentalist men fitted with devices that measure penis enlargement, and that set off blinking lights and whistles mounted on the gentleman's hats when significant arousal is detected. Then the clerics and rabbis and orthodox mobs can patrol the streets and stone anyone with a flashing hat — one way or another, the visible responses to perfectly ordinary human forms will disappear, the clerics will be able to claim victory over temptation, and they can stop abusing innocent women.

What an incurable optimist.

Of course, what really would happen if someone were to use such a device?

You have to promise not to laugh
Although my logic's iffy;
I hooked up a plethysmograph
To show I've got a stiffy.

So if some woman's leg I see
And "beep-beep!" goes my cock,
I do what scripture asks of me
And hit her with a rock.

If just a bit of ankle shows
But I still get a boner,
I'm justified, my Rabbi knows,
To go ahead and stone her

The scriptures say it's not my fault
Some temptress shows some skin
It's simple justice, not assault,
To stone her for her sin.

We'll stone the sluts, on God's behalf
Till all temptation's gone...
But... wearing this plethysmograph?
It kinda turns me on...

Certificate of Lack of Achievement

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

Either way, it's still worthless.


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

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

Friday Limericks--a debatable proposition

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

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

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


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

The Awesome Power Of Prayer!!!

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


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

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

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

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

The Digital Pack-Rat, volume 3

More odds and ends.

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

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

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

And that's why they deserved it, dude.


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

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

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

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

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


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

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



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

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

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



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

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

He could get rid of the
Anthropocentrism?
Nature's epitome?
Cephalopods!

The Digital Pack-Rat, volume 2

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


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


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

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

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

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



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


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



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


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


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

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

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

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



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


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

The Digital Pack-Rat, volume 1

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

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

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


******

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

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



******


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

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


******

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Enough for one post. More later.

Angels and Evidence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*
*
*

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

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

Friday Limericks--Vacation is over.

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

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

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

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

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

(special thanks to Cath at VWXYNot?)

Arrrrrrrrrr!

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


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

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

My Fair Maverick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PARTY!!!!! (A)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*
*
*


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

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

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


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

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

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

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

Sorry, Charlie!

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

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

Anyway, just my 2 cents.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Serious Message

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

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


Or you could Donate to the American Red Cross

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

Just don't waste your time praying.

Lipstick On A Pig...

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

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

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

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

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

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

PZ reports on a really cool new gadget, full of sciency goodness. Fast on the heels of that Hadron thingie that had us all excited yesterday, but didn't end the world after all, comes the Evolutionary Acceleration Research Institute's "Giant Animal Smasher".

The GAS is a 25 mile tube buried ten feet below the surface, and accelerates the animals at rates up to 6,000 meters per second using a series of pulleys, levers and fusion reactors.

Cool.

Of course, there are accusations of Physics Envy:

One scientist at CERN, home of the Large Hadron Collider, said, "Biologists are just jealous of all the attention the LHC has been getting. Since they aren't real scientists, they had to come up with this atrocity. Next thing you know the psychologists will build a brain smasher to compete."

The bottom line is, scientists like to play God.

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

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

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

End of the World ! (and I feel fine)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Congratulations; wrong once more.)

Eeew--you got real life in my poetry!

Blake Stacey reports on an interesting case of censorship. Most of the details are depressingly familiar: somebody gets a bug up a bum about a poem--in this case, one that "glorifie[s] knife violence". What is fascinating about this case is the author's response. She must really believe that bit about the pen being mightier than the sword (Grand Fenwick notwithstanding), and pens a bit about swords:

You must prepare your bosom for his knife,
said Portia to Antonio in which
of Shakespeare's Comedies? Who killed his wife,
insane with jealousy? And which Scots witch
knew Something wicked this way comes? Who said
Is this a dagger which I see? Which Tragedy?
Whose blade was drawn which led to Tybalt's death?
To whom did dying Caesar say Et tu? And why?
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark — do you
know what this means? Explain how poetry
pursues the human like the smitten moon
above the weeping, laughing earth; how we
make prayers of it. Nothing will come of nothing:
speak again. Said by which King? You may begin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Praisin' McCain!

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


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

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

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



Hat tip to Bora!

God doesn't like competition.

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

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

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

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

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

Remember, God is the Creator and controls the universe.

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

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

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

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

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

Delicious Brains...

The delicious brains of Jessica Hagy, that is. I can't believe I had never seen her site before Pharyngula posted this one:



I commented there, but added a few more stanzas here...

We struggle in vain to distinguish a Mass
From your typical Zombie behavior
As they guzzle down red by the bottle or glass
And delight in Filet of Our Savior.

Perhaps it's a matter of what's on the menu;
Your Catholic is more of a snacker,
But if you feel teeth on your shoulder, why, then you
Know zombies want more than a cracker.

When Jesus said “This is my blood that you drink,
And this is my body you eat”
Did something he knew of their tastes make him think
They were zombies, and lusting for meat?

Did the Catholic Church, from the time of Saint Peter,
Rejoice in the words that he said,
And at least once a week, become Zombie flesh-eater
And feast upon Jesus Undead?

I worry it's some sort of slippery slope
Where they struggle 'gainst gravity's chains
And I wonder if Ratzinger got to be Pope
By eating the Cardinals' brains.






oh! I mentioned in a comment yesterday, but some people don't read comments (silly them!)--if any of you added me to your blogrolls while I was overseas, please let me know so I can reciprocate!

Those Rude Atheists!

So the Secular Coalition for America wondered whether they were welcome in the Democratic Party. Yeah, I know, it shouldn't even be a question--we are a secular nation, after all, aren't we? But an Interfaith Gathering (yup, with Capital Letters and everything) was being held, and with a name like that it implies that those without faith (or is that Without Faith?), if they are being polite, should ask first whether they are invited:

Dear Rev. Daughtry:

I am very concerned about the Interfaith Gathering at the upcoming Democratic National Convention.

This event is described as a "unity" event to stress the "big tent" nature of the Democratic Party; however, I have received complaints by people who identify as atheist and humanist who feel that this event excludes them as full participants in the convention.

(excerpt, from the link above--go read the whole thing)

This polite inquiry could not offend anyone, could it?

Well...

A few atheists have their panties in a twist once again, this time fussing that an atheist leader wasn't invited to speak at an Aug. 24 interfaith service that's part of the Democratic National Convention.

The service will feature Christian, Muslim, Jewish and Buddhist speakers. The official reason for the interfaith services is "to honor the diverse faith traditions inside the Democratic Party," which could easily include atheists. If they aren't welcome, it's probably because they're rude.

.
.
.
Democrats will nominate a Christian gentleman who respects others. It's likely they didn't invite atheists to their faith service because they didn't want embarrassing guests. Atheists might bring pseudointellectual proselytizers, who are intolerant, self-aggrandizing and rude. Atheists should fund universities and hospitals. They should feed and clothe starving kids. They should act more like Christians and Jews. If they do some of that - if they contribute to a diverse humanity - they might get better party invites.

And the author defends his ignorance against a handful of intelligent individuals commenting on his rant. (Seriously, the comments are worth reading!)

Anyway...


I think my words were misconstrued
I wasn’t meaning to be rude
I only simply asked if you’d be letting others in.
I did not mean to cause you grief
But still, you seem to have a beef
With those of us who lack belief—you tell us that we sin.
It seems to me that you, not I
Are being rude—the reason why
Is that your statements all imply your view’s the one that counts,
And mine’s irrelevant, I’m told—
A view, if I may be so bold,
I’ve heard so much it’s growing old—my aggravation mounts.
The arguments you sometimes see—
Is God one part, or is He three?—
They simply don’t apply to me; I do not hold those views.
To have the government maintain
One view is right, is just insane;
For if one faith is set to gain, all others, then, must lose.
A secular society,
I think religions must agree,
Maintains each church’s right to be possessed of their belief.
To separate belief from state
Should really be beyond debate—
For me to be accused of hate for saying so? Good Grief!

Old Time Religion--or, Worshipping Greta Christina

A couple of days ago, one of my favorite bloggers actually wrote me and alerted me to her post here, a fun bit of wordplay and parody toying with that old classic "Gimme that old time religion". Go ahead, follow the link and read her post--great fun, that. I'll wait.

.
.
.

Back so soon? Anyway, I wanted to collect my responses there and put them here before I forget them, and to alert any regulars here (are there any left? Sorry I was gone for so long--summers are weird.) to try their own hands at the game. And to point out that Greta Christina's own verses are superbly crafted and worth reading.

But read hers on her blog. I'm just gonna put my own here.

My first set:

To me, there are no gods like the Greek gods. They are just so... so human. So delightfully carnal, a celebration of the whole human experience, warts and all.

At the Temple of Apollo
Some will lead and some will follow
Some will spit and some will swallow
And that’s good enough for me

When we follow Dionysus
Then no matter what the price is
We’ll engage in all our vices
And that’s good enough for me

With Athena in her armor
So that mortal man can’t harm’er
She is such a gorgeous charmer*
And that’s good enough for me

And the thunderbolts of Zeus’s
Are the least of his abuses
Leda talks about his gooses
And that’s good enough for me

Let us all revere Poseidon
Cos he’ll find you where you’re hidin’
And your ass he’ll soon be ridin’
And that’s good enough for me

When we speak of beaux and Eros
Our perspective rather narrows
Though it pierce us to our marrows
It’s good enough for me

Let us follow Terpsichore
As she leads us all to glory
Every dance will tell a story
And that’s good enough for me

We need never wonder why, men,
We will strive to do and die**, men,
At the service of dear Hymen,
And that’s good enough for me

*alternate line—“I would plow her like a farmer”
**well, a little death, anyway.

Then a few, as per Greta Christina's recommendation, regarding the modern skeptical deity-equivalents:

Let us follow the immortals
Till we pass through Heaven's portals
And deliver them our chortles--
That's good enough for me!

If we laugh ourselves unsteady
And keep criticism ready,
Flying monsters of spaghetti
Are good enough for me!

Though invisible, it's pinking--
It's a unicorn, I'm thinking--
And the atheists are winking
And that's good enough for me!

Though I have no God vendetta,
I would sooner worship Greta,
Though in truth, I've never met-a
She's good enough for me!

I am now in such fine fettle
That I think I have the mettle
To bow down to Russell's kettle
Cos it's good enough for me...

If I bow before some entity
And call it heaven-sentity
Please check on my dementity
That's good enough for me

And lastly, just for fun:

Let us toast to Quetzalcoatl
With the contents of this bottle
Not a little, but a lot'll
Be good enough for me

We will toast the feathered snakey
Till the world is blurred and shakey
Then pass out 'til wakey-wakey,
That's good enough for me

If your deity is serpentine
Please check what you are slurpin'- find
A label that says "turpentine"?
That's good enough for me


So have at it--add more, and visit Greta Christina's site and add them there as well!

Oh, Ye Of Little Faith!

PZ writes of a fascinating fossil find... A pair of footprints, one overlapping the other, left by a human and a theropod respectively. The fossil is... not terribly convincing.

But, of course, there are creationists touting it as the real deal, and as evidence that humans and dinosaurs walked the earth together, just like in that documentary. You know, the one with Fred and Wilma, I forget the name.

Anyway, it seems odd to me that the people who are supposed to have the most faith are the ones going out of their way to manufacture "evidence" so that they will not have to rely on faith. But I should be used to that by now.

I was thinking, though... what if the fossil really is the work of god? Fossils have been seen as a test of faith, placed there by god to see if we will still believe; what if this transparent fake is actually the work of god, placed there as a test of intellect?

The tracks of Man and Theropod
Were planted, by a playful God
To test the use of Human minds
Confronted with such puzzling finds.

The first upon Jehovah's list
To see it, a Creationist;
He swallowed hook, and line, and sinker,
Showing God he was no thinker.

The second looked, and laughed and laughed
To see the shoddiness of craft;
His open eyes would not be guiled,
And God looked down and simply smiled.

The third to look was just a boy
Who looked at it with open joy
And thought "that looks like so much fun,
I'll try to make another one!"

When even children plainly see
A fake, it is no mystery;
But as we grow, we often find
Some choose a path that leaves them blind.

And it should come as no surprise
They trust their faith, and not their eyes;
And will not hear if you explain
That--maybe--God prefers the brain.

The Modest Agnostic, In One Minute!

Wow!

Faster than I read it--maybe even faster than I am able to read it! Another stunning performance by The Modest Agnostic. Thank you for, as always, making me sound better than I actually am!

All This Over Ritual Cannibalism?

Wow. Much Ado About A Wafer. Who'd have thunk that this story had legs? As mild as this could have been, I suppose that if you piss off enough people, a number of them will react badly. As many have commented, the law cannot possibly take the side of the church in this case without setting a nasty precedent. Support one religion, and where does it end?


P. Z. Meyers’ bad behavior toward the body of Our Savior
Is at minimum appalling, and it’s blasphemy at most!
This is more than merely naughty—this is Christ Almighty’s Body—
There’s a special place in Hell for those who desecrate the Host!

Dr. Meyers would be safer if he just ignored the wafer;
‘Cos the Prince Of Peace has followers who will not mess around.
There’s no blogger, nerd, or hacker who can simply steal a cracker—
These are people who have re-defined the phrase “too tightly wound”.

Now it’s more than merely prattle, it’s a First Amendment battle;
Can the Catholics demand the recognition of their views?
And if transubstantiation is supported by the nation
Will the other faith communities each, likewise, get to choose?

When you lean toward theocratic, it is far from automatic
That the legal recognition of your rituals will follow—
If our goal is “not offending”, then the list is never-ending,
And the spectrum of religions is too big a bite to swallow.

If the nation acts as proxy for one form of orthodoxy
Then the other True Believers could be truly in a lurch;
But our brilliant founding fathers saw through this and other bothers
And decided to prohibit the endorsement of one church.

If believers were offended, that’s what Myers had intended—
While it may not be polite, he has the right to be a jerk;
It’s the nation’s Constitution that prevents his prosecution,
Sure, it’s not the Holy Bible, but it kinda seems to work.

Where In The World Now?

Just an octopus, happy, at play

Then we zoom out (we know that we may)

And it seems that the odds

Say that cephalopods

Are involved in the Last Judgment Day

(Took these pics today. Can you guess?)

But No Sign Of Aliens?

It's out of this world! And so very nice,
In the barrens of Mars, to have dug up some ice!
My prediction today? That intrepid explorers
Will soon find the signs of some Naked Ice Borers!

Friday Limericks--Greece!

This is not the only country on my trip, but I am certainly glad it is one of them! I have wanted to go to Greece since... I think my first presentation on the Parthenon in 4th grade, or maybe earlier, reading the children's versions of Greek mythology. Of course, ignorance being what it is, I have had quite a learning experience here. As someone (Between Mark Twain, Ben Franklin, and Will Rogers, there is a 99% chance of one of them having said just about anything) is alleged to have once said, "it's not what you don't know that gets you in trouble, it's what you do know, that ain't so". I have such vast quantities of both categories here that it would be tough to say which wins out.

But anyway, it is Friday the 13th and I have had a wonderful day. So the Friday Limerick topic is Greece--broadly defined.

There once was a lady from Hellas
Quite a favorite with all of the fellas
From them all, she chose one,
But was having such fun
With the rest, that she just wouldn't tellas


There once was a Byzantine Monk
In a bit of a Byzantine funk
So he took his small flock
To the top of a rock
Where he thunk, and he thunk, and he thunk
[imagine a photo of a Meteora monastery here. I will edit it in when I have bandwidth to load it.]

It's slimy, yet furry and squeaky;
I think you'll agree that it's freaky;
But beyond all dispute
Is the fact that it's cute--
And I found it in Thessaloniki!

(this one is worth clicking on--it's just so cute!)

Never A Good Sign

It should make you worry when you
Find your cousin on the menu
At a pleasant Greek Taverna at the Galaxidi shore
It was Greece--so I was fated
Once I'd eaten, and was sated,
To be punished by Poseidon like I never was before
We were looking at the ocean
When there came a funny motion
Just a little instability I felt beneath my feet
Then the sidewalk started moving
Like the gods themselves were proving
We were just a little early when we called them obsolete

We had traveled through the epicenter town about 2-3 hours before the earthquake hit. The photo above is indeed from the Taverna in Galaxidi where we had just eaten when the sidewalks started imitating the ocean.

Where In The World Is The Digital Cuttlefish?

I am wand'ring the earth, to its ends
But I feel that I must make amends
While I've traveled, I fear
I've neglected you here--
So a picture, or two, of some friends!

(I took these just a couple of days ago...)

Thank you all for your wishes and greetings; I have a bit of forced downtime today on a bus ride, so I may have time to compose something... or maybe to sleep, perchance to dream...

And A Fishy On The Trunk

Anna Lemma reports (and has been for some time) on a Ford Dealership radio ad that explicitly alienates Atheists, while pandering to an 86% Christian majority.


When the rapture sweeps the planet
I know Heaven’s my reward,
But for now my piece of paradise
I bought from Henry Ford

It’s a broken-down jalopy;
It’s a rusted piece of junk;
But there’s Jesus on the dashboard
And a fishy on the trunk

Sure, it leaks a little oil,
And it doesn’t “turn”, but “lurch”,
Seven miles to the gallon
But it gets me to my church

You can hear me from a block away
And smell last weekend’s skunk,
But there’s Jesus on the dashboard
And a fishy on the trunk

Got a brand-new bumper sticker
Saying “What Would Jesus Do?”
Now it’s holding up my tail light
With some duct tape and some glue

You can almost hear the “Kieffe and Sons”
In every “Rattle-Clunk”,
But there’s Jesus on the dashboard
And a fishy on the trunk.

I saw a car that had a fish—
A Darwin fish, with legs!
I fixed it, with a wrecking bar
And half a dozen eggs

Don’t mess with me or with my God
You heathen, godless punk—
I’ve got Jesus on my dashboard
And a fishy on my trunk.

Friday Limericks--Graduation Day

So this weekend is graduation day for a lot of places around here. Last weekend for some, next weekend for others. Here at Cuttlefish U., commencement is this weekend, but grades are not due until next week. Which means that I am still grading while the students are celebrating. Still grading while I am trying to prepare for the Big Life-Changing Event that I will write about in a day or so (with luck, after my grades have been delivered).

I know that some of my readers have yet to suffer through even one graduation, and others have gone through 4 or more of their own, let alone their children's or their students. So we have many different perspectives here; I can't wait to read them!



It’s the end of their four (or more) years
Countless classes, and countless more beers
In a moment or two
All their loans will come due
That’s the reason for graduates’ tears!


With such pride that it’s swelling their chests,
We see Seniors escorting their guests
To their chairs on the field—
But too soon, it’s revealed:
Cuttlefish is still grading their tests!


Through the traffic and crowds I’ll be weaving
Looking flustered—but looks are deceiving;
Once you’ve gotten to know
Them for four years or so
It’s not always a joy when they’re leaving.


In the line, as you slowly advance
To receive your diploma, perchance
It would soften your frown
If you thought, ‘neath that gown,
That the speaker is not wearing pants.

Oh, wait...

Pharyngula reports on an opinion poll from Britain, revealing widespread belief that god is, in fact, male.  From the Lancashire Evening Post article:

A majority of people think God is male with nearly half of the population in Britain believing that all religions discriminate on grounds of gender.
Only 1% of people think of God as female, with 62% considering God to be male, the online survey conducted earlier this month of 1,050 adults in Britain found.

It certainly seems clear to me that somebody was made in somebody's image.

My God is pretty self-assured, and quite convinced He’s right.
He made me in His image, so He’s green-eyed, blond, and white;
And He’s very, very wrathful with the folks who disagree;
He’ll hold a grudge for centuries—Oh, wait—that might be me.

He’s insecure enough to want to hear how much you love Him
And He never will forgive you if there’s someone else above Him;
He’ll jealously react to any threat to His domain
By smiting all His enemies—Oh, wait—that’s me again.

He’ll make the world a better place for those who think like Him
For those in opposition, well, the situation’s grim;
He’ll call jihad, or else crusade—some form of Holy War
Because He knows He’s always right—Oh, wait—that’s me once more.

He’s handsome, bearded, steely-eyed, deep-voiced and somewhat haughty
So wonderful, his naughty bits are never seen as naughty
But perfectly proportioned, grand and firm and never shrinking,
A miracle of awesomeness—Oh, wait—that’s wishful thinking.

"...Ain't No Place I'd Rather Be..."

"Tennessee, Tennessee..."   PZed reports that the Tennessee State Senate has passed, by unanimous vote, a bill authorizing the State Board of Education to endorse a geocentric flat-earth physics course.  Oh, wait.  Nope.  A non-sectarian course "about the Bible and its impact on the world." 

You know... that could be fun and worthwhile, if the right people were in charge of writing the curriculum.   The Gershwins, for instance, might have something to contribute...

In Tennessee, teachers
Can now become preachers--
So says a unanimous vote--
Cos Senators Herron
And Maddox were rarin'
To see it, so that's what they wrote.

With so much invested
They made sure they tested
To pass Constitutional rules
The Establishment Clause
Is mere guideline, because
We want Bibles galore in our schools!

They teach them the latest,
Well why not the greatest?
There's no greater lesson, you know:
"The things that you're liable
To read in the Bible
It ain't necessarily so"

Three-Quarters Crazy (A Song)

This one really is a song--It has a melody and chords and everything (and yes, it has some odd rhymes--they work when it is actually being sung). I have actually sung it out loud, but I don't recall ever doing so in the presence of witnesses. I suppose it is possible, though. It's kinda a minor-key bluesy thing....I sort of imagine introducing it at an open-mic night with "here's a song for anyone who has ever been driven half-crazy by a full moon".  (For the skeptics among us, the point is that it is neither the stars nor the moon that drive us crazy.  It's the people.  Usually, one particular person.)  I'd be happy to reproduce the melody and chords, but I don't have that ability with any software I currently have.

There’s a half moon in the sky
And I’m three-quarters crazy—
I’m three-quarters crazy for you.

I thought I’d take a walk,
and try to clear my senses
Think about building bridges,
think about tearing down defenses
Think about falling in love;
Don’t think about consequences
‘Cos I’m three-quarters crazy for you.

There’s a half moon in the sky
And I’m three-quarters crazy
Been thinkin’ of you
My mind is going hazy
And I’d blame it on the stars
But what can the stars do,
When there’s a half moon in the sky,
And I’m three-quarters crazy for you?

I struggle and I fight
I always end up cryin’
No matter what I do
I may as well stop tryin’
Cos I’m bound to lose
To that half moon in Orion
And I’m three-quarters crazy for you.

There’s a half moon in the sky
And I’m three-quarters crazy
Been thinkin’ of you
My mind is going hazy
And I’d blame it on the stars
But what can the stars do,
When there’s a half moon in the sky,
And I’m three-quarters crazy for you?

Guess I’m going ‘round the bend
I guess there’s no debating
With ev’ry move I make
I feel like I am skating
Out on thinner and thinner ice
On this course I’m contemplating
And I’m three-quarters crazy for you.

But is it the moon—
Her phases got me fazing?
I mean, maybe it’s you—
you know, you really are amazing
Maybe it’s you I see
when I think that I’m star-gazing
And I’m three-quarters crazy for you.

There’s a half moon in the sky
And I’m three-quarters crazy
Been thinkin’ of you
My mind is going hazy
And I’d blame it on the stars
But what can the stars do,
When there’s a half moon in the sky,
And I’m three-quarters crazy for you?

Outside my window right now, it is much too cloudy for stars or moon, so neither are the inspiration for this particular post.  It is, however, someone's birthday...

Friday Limericks--Cars, Garages, Repairs, Payments...

...I just spent the morning--all of it--at the garage.  The good news is that the car is now safe for my son to drive.  The bad news is... well, you know what the bad news always is at the garage.  It wasn't quite a thousand, but it was within spitting distance.  I bike to work, and one reason is that my bike, and all the repairs I have ever paid for on my bike, cost less over the past 10 years than this one visit to the garage just cost.

So I'm more than a little bit miffed

As I stare at my car on the lift

And the thought of expense

Makes me just a bit tense

As they call in the afternoon shift!

There's a noise that the car always makes

As it pulls to the left, and then shakes--

It's a terrible sound--

It goes "Yeah, that's around

Seven hundred to drop on the brakes".

The finale, that just gets my goat--

The mechanic gets ready to tote

Up the numbers, then sees

Some additional fees

Based on payments he needs for his boat!

(disclaimer: I actually do really like this mechanic and this shop.  The last one, though...)

I suspect that this is a common enough theme that I can just leave it with three, and my amazing commenters will soon put me to shame!

The Coat In A Jar?

The New York Times reports today, but Boing-Boing got there a few days ago--a recent art exhibit at the MoMA had to be... euthanized. A coat made of "living leather", a growing garment of mouse stem cells, was growing too fast and had to be put down. Yeah, it's worth following the links and reading.

My mom complained I grew too fast--
Or else, my clothes were shrinking.
I couldn't make my clothing last,
Until I did some thinking.
I couldn't make a coat to fit
With any fancy sewing,
And so I got a science kit
And started something growing--
A leather coat (size extra small)
From stem cells of a mouse,
With stylish collar, sleeves and all,
To wear around the house.
At first, it seemed a simple task
(They all do at the start)
I'd use the erlenmeyer flask
In which I grew my heart.
But all too soon, a snag arose:
My coat grew much too fast!
No more would I outgrow my clothes--
It's me that would not last!
My coat grew larger all the while,
I really don't know why;
So out of safety, not for style,
The garment had to die.
I pulled the plug, then stood and watched,
Expecting it to give.
But some procedure I had botched
Allowed it still to live!
The flask I'd used, I now surmise
(I did not, at the start)
Contained some cells--surprise, surprise!
My coat had grown a heart!

So now, I'm hiding from my coat
Behind a stockroom shelf;
If you should chance to find this note,
Just run! Go! Save yourself!


Image from Boing-Boing.

Platypus Dreams

Buried in all the cool news about the Platypus last week was a little item that struck me. It seems that we do not look at the Platypus just for its DNA, but for another three letters as well. The Platypus dreams; it has REM sleep.

Jerry Siegel, a neuroscientist at UCLA, says he became interested in the platypus because he believed it would help explain how sleep evolved in humans. One theory is that rapid eye movement (REM) sleep evolved recently in humans as our brains got bigger and more complex. It was initially thought that the platypus didn't have REM sleep cycles, so Siegel went to Australia with modern technology to do more testing.

"And what we saw is that in the platypus, the REM sleep is absolutely unequivocal," he says.

So, this one is for my dear friends in the land of Oz...


The Platypus lives in the rivers and streams
On the Easternmost edge of Down Under.
Now scientists tell us these critters have dreams--
But what do they dream of, I wonder?

The Platypus dreamtime is strange and bizarre,
We can tell by the R.E.M. sleep.
But of course, we can't tell what their thoughts really are
From electrodes, and things that go "beep".

Perhaps it's a world where a stick that gets thrown
Doesn't swing back and aim at your head;
Or a place where some nine out of ten snakes aren't known
To be experts at making you dead.

Or maybe they dream of a spot on the shore
Where it's sunny, with plenty of worms,
Where it's nice and it's cozy, and who could want more
Than a picnic that wriggles and squirms?

A platypus nightmare, I cannot conceive,
From my opposite side of the Earth--
"It was horrible, really! You wouldn't believe
What came out of me when I gave birth!"

"Not the leathery shell of my nice, normal eggs
But a monster, all hairless and pink!
It was wiggling, and moving, and kicking its legs--
Could it get any grosser, you think?"

Australia, of course, is already so weird;
When a Platypus goes for a snooze,
When the strange world Down Under has all disappeared,
What alternate world would you choose?

Hang The Bastards!

In one of those internet polls we know and love so well, the StarTribune asks the musical question, "Did school officials react properly to the students who did not stand for the Pledge of Allegiance?"


As of this writing, 2399 people have voted that the punishment should have been more severe.

I hope I can presume to speak on their behalf.

How dare these children fail to stand!
This is the great and sacred Land
Of Freedom; They should all be sent
To prison as their punishment!
Good, decent folk, like you and me
Display our love of liberty
By joining in the chanting crowd
To pledge allegiance right out loud;
To fail to join the droning throng
Is unAmerican, and wrong!
These kids, these traitors to the flag
Just make me sick! They make me gag!
They should be whipped; they should be beaten,
Their entrails taken out and eaten!
They should be torn from limb to limb
For this unpatriotic whim!
This is my land! I have the right
To make them buckle to my might,
Conform to the majority
And say the pledge along with me!

America, the beautiful,
Your citizens are dutiful,
And constitutionality
Comes second to morality;
And if we trade democracy
For out-and-out theocracy
(It seems we are susceptible)
That's perfectly acceptable.

While I'm in the majority
Don't question its authority.

Friday Limericks--Location, Location, Location

There is, of course, a long tradition of location in limericks. The most famous location would have to be Nantucket, but I am certain you have heard others. If you like your own location, see what you can do with it here! If you would prefer to be somewhere else, immortalize that location in five lines. Or just pick a place that fits the rhyme scheme and be done with it!

There once was a lady from Boston
With a body too small to get loston
And the patriot's trail
From her head to her tail
Is worth ev'ry last cent that it's coston

There once was a man from L.A.
Who decided to drive far away
With the traffic, his car
Didn't get very far
So that's where he still is today

A student in Kalamazoo
Played a sensual song on kazoo
Her friend heard the humming
And thoughts started coming--
"When that song is over--me too?"

There once was a Podblack from Perth
On the down-under side of the Earth
Who writes posts every day
And has real things to say
But mine rhymes... for whatever that's worth.

It's A Reptile! It's A Mammal! It's Super-Platypus!

The genome of the platypus,
We read today in Nature,
Befits a beast so odd it once
Defied our nomenclature;
A mammal, but it still lays eggs,
And you know what that means:
The platypus and lizards share
Some families of genes!
Although the tale is quite complex--
A long way off from solved--
The genome of the platypus
Shows how we all evolved!


Photo accompanies the New York TImes article.