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

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

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 ™. 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.

Captain Ahab… er, Myers, and the Whale

I was thinking…  just reflecting on history… and it came to me, that the high seas of long ago were the routes of communication, of commerce, of social discourse–they were the internet of the past.  Or, rather, the internet is the high seas of the present.  The following is a sea shanty, a tale best told with a concertina and a hornpipe, and a fiddle if you are lucky.  It relates a legend told here, here, here, and here.

There’s some that call him Pee Zed,
And for others he’s Pee Zee
There’s some that call him “Doctor”
But that don’t sit right with me
There’s some that call him “Evil”
And I’m here to tell the tale
Of the dreaded Captain Myers
And the hunting of the whale.

The legends tell, in whispered tones,
Of a man as dense a lead,
“Immune to any argument”
Or so the stories said;
They called him “Dr. Simmons”
And they warned against the fate:
“If you’re sensitive to ignorance,
Don’t meet him in debate.”

But dauntless Captain Myers
Is the bravest of them all;
When destiny was on the line
He boldly took the call.
Though Jesus said you should not cast
Your pearls in front of swine,
The duel was “Evolution
And Intelligent Design.”

It would not be with pistols, and
They would not simply fence;
The duel that they’d agreed upon
Relied on evidence.
Each man would list the reasons
Which support his point of view;
Then each assails the other’s list,
If parts are… less than true.

But then, before the steps were marched,
And battle was begun,
The wriggly Geoffrey Simmons
Thought he’d have a little fun:
“A change of topic, that’s the trick”
The little slime-eel oozed,
“Prepare for this; debate on that,
PZ will get confused!”

Although he’d be within his rights
Refusing to debate,
The fearless Captain Myers
Sauntered out to meet his fate.
He knew his weapon’s brutal strength;
He knew its aim was true
Against the truth, well-argued,
There is nothing one can do.

The debate began in earnest
As the wily Geoff resolved
To explain that science can’t explain
How whales have (not) evolved;
There was, of course, no evidence
Supporting this position,
But ignorance would not prevent
This claim from repetition.

(When challenged by the evidence,
He doesn’t change his view;
His claim remains, unwavering—
That’s how he knows it’s true!
But meanwhile, Charles Darwin’s were
Evolving all along—
They change to fit the evidence;
That’s how Geoff knows they’re wrong!)

But Captain Myers’ rapier wit
And knowledge of his field
Were sharper than his razor, and
Much deadlier to wield;
He listed off some fossil finds—
Cetacean missing links—
And asked the baffled medico
Just what (or if) he thinks

A weaker man than Myers
Might have piddled in his shoes,
For the Great White Whale named Simmons
Simply calcified his views:
“My ignorance is solid rock
Upon which I will stand;
To bow before the evidence
Is only sinking sand!”

But even Dr. Simmons,
With his blinders on too tight,
Could see that if he stuck to whales
He’d surely lose the fight.
It wasn’t brave or daring;
It was more or less insane
But the M.D. made a topic change
To talk about… the brain!

(Forgive me, gentle reader
If I do not tell that story—
My stomach isn’t strong enough;
The tale is rather gory.
Suffice to say, his argument
Should hope to rest in peace;
By stroke of fate, the brain is Myers’
Field of expertise!)

But even as his ears and tail
Were nailed to Myers’ wall,
The doc declared his victory
(If only brains were gall!)
To hear him speak, you’d say he won
A brave and valiant fight;
(We’ve seen this once before, with
Monty Python’s brave Black Knight!)

It’s just another story, now,
It’s just another tale,
PZ as Captain Ahab—
Dr. Simmons as The Whale.
It’s not that Geoffrey’s intellect
Is mythic in proportion,
But rather, his ability
To live with such distortion

There’s some that call him Pee Zed,
And for others he’s Pee Zee
There’s some that call him “Doctor”
But that don’t sit right with me
There’s some that call him “Evil”
And I’m here to tell the tale
Of the dreaded Captain Myers
And the hunting of the whale.

Fight! Fight!

Another of the comments on Pharyngula that I had not planned on posting here.

The context: a hissy-fit slapfight amongst competing blogs.  You’ve probably seen it before–one blogger says something about another, and before you know it, people all over the world are puffing out their chests from the safety of their computer keyboards, calling one another out, extolling the virtues of their own side and enumerating the evils of the other.  Sometimes the exact same behavior seen as a virtue among one’s colleagues is a shocking violation of all that is good in humanity when seen in one’s opponents.  Our side has intelligent independent thinkers, who happen to agree on this issue because we have been convinced by the data; your side has fawning sycophants, following your leader’s whims like some misguided cult.
This particular case study is here.  I had thought I was late to the party; my comment is #183.  As of this writing, though, there are 398 comments posted (update: 400).  There are probably Vegas odds by now as to what the number will be by the time the sun goes supernova.

I have looked six ways from Sunday, and I hope that maybe one day
I’ll discover just the evidence to put him in his place;
‘Til that marvelous occasion, I’m contented with invasion–
I can comment in the blogosphere and rub it in his face.
I will taunt that bastard PZ, and I think it should be easy;
I’ve a strategy, dependent on the form of his reply–
He ignores me, he is yellow; he attacks, why then, the fellow
Who invites me to “fuck off” is not a scientific guy.
I will hold him to my standard, and complain that he has pandered
To his suck-ups who, predictably, will praise his every word.
Though my own world-view is vile, if he disagrees? “Denial!”
(Let’s conveniently ignore that my position is absurd.)
I don’t mean to be so rude, sir, but no matter what, you’re screwed, sir–
Our opinions are in concrete, there’s no way that they will change;
Once a world-view is cemented, doesn’t matter what’s presented,
If you disagree with what I think the truth is, you are strange.
If you stick it out, you’re bitter; if you leave, then you’re a quitter,
If you claim that you are busy, I will simply roll my eyes.
We all have our weak and strong points, good and bad and right and wrong points–
We all play to our advantage: you know science. I know lies.