When the whole debate began, it
Was one people, on one planet,
Looking up into the night-time at the stars
Whether proximal or distal
Whether fiery gas or crystal
All they knew beyond a doubt was, it was ours
There were greater lights and lesser,
They were beautiful, but yes Sir,
It was evident they all belonged to us
Both the lesser and the greater
And of course, the stars’ creator,
Who’d decided we were worthy of the fuss.
Then it changed; the observation
Of a moving constellation
Showed a different sort of neighbor in the night
There’s a planet that’s between us
And the sun—we call it Venus,
And another planet, Mars, as well in flight.
Now our neighborhood’s gone plural
More suburbanite than rural
So we contemplate the details of God’s plan:
Did He give these planets Jesus?
Are they only there to please us?
Either way, we know His favorite is Man.
Tip of the cuttlecap to PZ, here.
(and no, this isn’t technically an instance of pluralistic ignorance; that’s when everyone in a group thinks that every other member of the group understands something, and each individual doesn’t want to look like a fool admitting to being the only one who doesn’t get it… Happens all the time. No, this is a rumination on the ignorance of pluralism.)
dc – and we are going to spare you and your family because you are an impotent babble unaware of the consequences of your words…
Fascinating, Dancing Monkey. I'm sure you're aware, that's virtually the exact reason you are not, currently, behind bars.
Oh, my. This one just flows and rolls and roars like a river. A very, very clever river.
And I weptNews, they say, should be balanced and fairIt is, if you can have a faith like theirsThe job is to give time to both sides of the storyAs if there is only two sides, to god be the glorySpritzen mouth pieces claim the love in their faithYet only have time to preach their brand of hateThey blame women for earthquakes, gays for stormsHaiti serves the devil, so their deaths are self harmToo many suffer troubles and painBut the story of religion remains the sameThey pray against the wicked, the wicked don't changeThey pray for touchdowns, they pray for some rainPotection they seek from bigots and harmAll tax free to prevent unfair advantageFor office, it's not really worth running for electionUnless holymen preach which person needs selectionAnd I weepA two year old dies never having enough foodtheir god's work is mysterious they exudeThey pay their holymen, no care who starvesEvery six minutes, the math is not hardNon-heterosexuals are just an abominationThey lie and tell you it's a Christian nationLove your neighbor unless they are gayTheir god would never have made them that wayTurn the other cheek and the religion of peaceWest bank is ours says god's chosen peepsRreincarnation and karmha is the thingOnly the faithful will live againIn our times of trouble and worry and struggle, mayhemOnly religious have real hope to sooth and coddle themThey all have Truth from their skydaddy aboveThey are safe from all harm in the embrace of his loveIf they live too close to loose women or gaysHis wrath and pettiness, their lives will eraseThey want me to believe in magic fairy storiesbut only to build their bottom line gloriesAnd I weepFor all those who need only fair equityFor all those unfairly harmed by inequalityAnd I weepThat I have no skydaddy to come and set justiceNo magic incantations, I have only what just isNo hope for me beyond the measure I quarryNo hope for the beleagured, I'm so very sorryAnd I weep