It’s the smallest one ever—by far!
And its structure (to me) looks bizarre
There was nowhere to park
And so, just as a lark,
They made a molecular car!
Headline: Single-molecule ‘electric car’ taken for test drive
(Very cool illustration at link)
Ok, nanotechnology may be the key to fitting more cars into the same parking lot, but a single-molecule car is not going to be helpful for carpooling. I think I’ll stick to my bike.
In case you’d forgotten, we thought we’d remind you
With data that show a continuous trend
The electorate never will gather behind you
Unless you declare your invisible friend
Political races are known to be dirty—
With negative messages, branding, and hype;
The numbers today show at best around thirty
Percent who would vote for an atheist type
Yes, “godless” is hopeless in voters’ opinion
A view in which humans are nothing but beasts
Morality’s seen as the church’s dominion
(As evidenced clearly by pedophile priests)
Two thirds of the country is “somewhat” or “very
Uncomfortable” letting an atheist lead;
They’d rather Santorum, or Gingrich, or Perry—
They’re morons, but morons who follow a creed.
Until and unless they have power and money
They won’t be invited, or asked to the dance
The clowns are in charge, but it just isn’t funny:
In politics, atheists don’t stand a chance.
Context, after jump: [Read more…]
So I’ve been having a bit of fun at a tiny little internet backwater. Hey, it’s what I do sometimes. Don’t judge me!
Anyway, I noticed today that somebody invoked the idea of “Last Tuesdayism” which (by the blog author’s argument) all of us, in order to be intellectually consistent, must remain agnostic about. Thus, today’s little ditty.
Only last Tuesday, a quarter past four,
The universe was, when it wasn’t before!
The whole of the universe started to be,
Which it hadn’t at all, at a quarter past three.
Existence itself, in the blink of an eye;
No reason for billions of years to go by.
Of course, it looks old—that’s the way it was done,
Looking old from the instant it all had begun;
The universe looks like it has a real past,
And one that seems incomprehensively vast
It seems there are billions of years to explore
But it started last Tuesday, a quarter past four.
The earth and the heavens, the sun and the stars,
The mountains, the oceans, the cities, the cars,
The falsified memories that seem to be real,
Each trip to the doctor, each holiday meal,
Each nursery school freeze-tag or hide-and-go-seek,
Each one an illusion from early last week.
Each fossil was planted, and each sacred scroll,
Each childhood memory, made up in whole,
Your very first friend, and the first one you kissed
Another illusion to add to the list.
No God whatsoever creating a scene,
And nothing at all from before 4:15.
There is no “last month”, and there is no “last year”,
Just Tuesday and later, that’s perfectly clear.
The scientists’ “billions of years” is a guess,
Like the people who say it’s six thousand or less—
They each claim their evidence tells them what’s true,
And they haven’t a clue that they haven’t a clue.
So how do I know what I’m telling you now?
If it’s all manufactured last Tuesday, then how?
You can’t trust the science; religion is bunk;
You can’t trust your senses, cos all of it’s junk;
No possible way that the real truth can show,
So how do I know it? That’s it—I just know.
Religion and science are two different ways
We can look at the world—that’s what everyone says.
But really, why limit ourselves just to these?
My Tuesdayist view is as good, if you please!
It’s as old as the others, so please don’t ignore—
Cos they all started Tuesday, a quarter past four.
As usual, more after yon jumpage: [Read more…]
I don’t have any time today, so here’s something from 2-1/2 years ago, that nobody read back then:
John Holbo of Crooked Timber has newly acquired a wonderful old book, in which he finds a poem, “The Atheist and the Acorn“. Go read it! Then maybe my little verse will make more sense.
Methinks this “God” is strangely made
For something of such worth,
An introspective theist said
As plucked he up a single blade
Of grass, from off the earth:
Behold, quoth he, this tiny thing,
This single blade of grass,
Enough to make Walt Whitman sing—
They grow in millions every spring
Unnoticed as we pass.
But God counts every single leaf,
Each hair upon your head
(For bald men, he just counts their grief)
The reason that we know? In chief,
It’s what the Bible said.
But where is God when good men die
In wars, fought in His name?
He counts the grass—He can’t deny
He hears the wounded moan and cry—
He sits there, to His shame.
He mustn’t think; he mustn’t doubt,
This theist on the lawn;
His worship must remain devout;
One thought that he might do without
And poof—his God is gone.
He cannot help but smile and nod
It feels so good; so right.
He’d looked upon the face of God
And found it merely a façade—
And now he’s seen the light.
Though the thought, I am sure, left them weary
Google answered the government’s query
Though they couldn’t tell yet,
There’s a very real threat
In the form of the audible “Siri”
Headline: Schmidt sees Siri as a ‘threat’ to Google’s search business
My dumb phone is already smarter than I am; I doubt I will have a smart phone until the cool kids are getting an even newer model implanted into the bones of their skulls.
Atheists! Look in your purse or your pocket;
There’s God on the money you carry around!
The motto is yours, though you atheists mock it,
And God’s how we know that our money is sound!
Your using this money is clearly hypocrisy
Atheists ought to refuse it—the fools!
Sucks to be you, though; our Christian democracy
Trusts in our God—and majority rules!
The courts say it’s legal, so quit your complaining—
No reason to get all your bills in a wad!
We Christians find atheists so entertaining—
Each time you use money, you’re praising our God!
Rant, after jump: [Read more…]
This was not the hour I wanted back—
A useless hour I missed, in bed asleep
And dreaming something meaningless. A black
Room and troubled rest, I would not keep,
Let alone choose to repeat. Why couldn’t this
Have been the last hour I spent with my brother?
My daughter’s first laugh? My first kiss?
A decent meal? Or nearly any other
Hour, nearly any other moment at all?
If I could make a bargain with the powers
That decide these things—could I not recall
Any number of more meaningful hours?
The hour may change, but dawn still comes at dawn;
The clocks turn back; the time’s forever gone
Yeah, I know. I still hate it.
A person’s a person, no matter how small
Like the miniscule blob of a blastocyst ball
Or an egg, when a sperm cell has happened to call
A person’s a person, no matter how small.
From Corinth to Gulfport, they’ll take to the polls
For a state-wide initiative with wide-reaching goals:
To say cells are people, with rights and with souls,
And the state, not the woman, is at the controls
The state, not the woman, can say what is best
For the baby with which the poor mother is blessed
And the choice of the mother need not be addressed
The state, not the woman, can say what is best
A person’s a person, the state will assume,
And of course this applies to a babe in the womb
(The mom’s not a person; she’s just baby’s room,
And a source of nutrition the kid will consume)
A person’s a person, as well you’re aware
And a babe needs protection—it only seems fair
Till she’s out of her mother, and breathing the air,
And the state is no longer pretending to care.
Related post: But It Was Supposed To Be A Parody!
Though her story remains just the same
There’s a candidate shirking the blame
He’ll dismiss it because,
Though she’s breaking no laws,
His accuser will not tell her name
Headline: Herman Cain accuser stands by complaint, won’t go public
Why should we listen to someone who won’t even admit her identity? Hmm… why do we insist that a woman open herself up to public excoriation before we take her seriously? Cain’s accuser is already on record; there is no reason to think that knowing her identity adds anything to the accusations.
Underground
Underground
Where the worthless and unwanted can be found
Where the heathens have to gather
To escape religious blather
From the people who would rather
Keep them down
Out of sight
Out of sight
Where they work to earn what should be theirs by right
Though they’re made to feel unwanted
And their growth unduly stunted
Just to keep their weapons blunted
If they fight
When a student-run, but godless, organization
Makes its case before a Christian administration
It’s an exercise in reciprocal frustration
Cos the goals—to give a decent education
And encourage kids to god’s path to salvation
Can’t be done without some special dispensation
(How the bible is a source of inspiration
But that doubt can only work in moderation)
And a godless club is too much invitation
For the Devil to begin his exploitation
Which, as science shows, [hand-waving explanation
That can justify our awkward orchestration]
So the godless club deserves its segregation
To the underground and risk of suffocation
Cos the risk and cost of open toleration
Or of wink-and-nod-“tsk! Tsk!” accommodation
If the college gives complete cooperation
Is the prospect of pure hellfire and damnation
No release, not even sweet annihilation.
So they hide
Down inside
Where their meetings and their greetings won’t be spied
They will meet, cos people need ‘em
And for academic freedom
Which the faculty, who lead ‘em
Can’t abide.
A tiny bit more, and an excellent viddy, after the jump: [Read more…]