Going caroling this year?


Amadan wrote this amusing Gilbert and Sullivan parody, I Am the Very Model of a C-Design-Proponentsist. Now you can actually hear it sung by Karl Mogel! (by the way, Karl, you know you’re a science nerd when you think the best way to tell people what the tune is is to mention that it’s the same as Tom Lehrer’s Elements song.)

I think this is one of those carols that is best sung drunk, I’m afraid; I’m picturing hordes of godless atheists and happy secularists stumbling into midnight mass on Christmas Eve and disrupting the services by trying to pronounce c-designproponents-ists very fast.

Comments

  1. Scott Belyea says

    Ah, but if you go one layer deeper, the parody doesn’t work. The major-general parodied by G&S was an extremely competent and knowledgeable individual; that’s why the original parody worked so well.

    In fact, I suggest that this one isn’t a parody at all; it’s just an accurate description in verse.

  2. says

    (by the way, Karl, you know you’re a science nerd when you think the best way to tell people what the tune is is to mention that it’s the same as Tom Lehrer’s Elements song.)

    As my partner would say, “NNNeeeRRRRrrrrrrddd!”

  3. MartinDH says

    I don’t think I’d bother sending it to UcD (as Karl suggests)…they wouldn’t find it funny. There are no fart sound effects.

    Like Dawkins I’m a cultural CoEer, and was disappointed to read that the CoE is stopping its Xmas Eve midnight services. I have fond memories of attending them with my friends, all slightly “publicly tired”, and belting out our favourite carols. *Sigh*

  4. MartinDH says

    I don’t think I’d bother sending it to UcD (as Karl suggests)…they wouldn’t find it funny. There are no fart sound effects.

    Like Dawkins I’m a cultural CoEer, and was disappointed to read that the CoE is stopping its Xmas Eve midnight services. I have fond memories of attending them with my friends, all slightly “publicly tired”, and belting out our favourite carols. *Sigh*

  5. says

    I’m taking the song to lunch with some friends tomorrow. We may get thrown out of the restaurant if we sing it too loudly. I keep stumbling over “proponentsist”, but I’m improving. (This is a relative measure, you understand.)

  6. Quiddam says

    I’ve often thought of the other patter song from “The Sorcerer” by Gilbert & Sullivan would be a good target for satirising one Jonathan Wells, but I have to say it stands very well completely unaltered. Gilbert must be prescient.

    For he can prophesy
    With a wink of his eye,
    Peep with security
    Into futurity,
    Sum up your history,
    Clear up a mystery,
    Humour proclivity
    For a nativity – for a nativity;

    He has answers oracular,
    Bogies spectacular,
    Tetrapods tragical,
    Mirrors so magical,
    Facts astronomical,
    Solemn or comical,
    And, if you want it, he
    Makes a reduction on taking a quantity!

    Oh!
    If any one anything lacks,
    He’ll find it all ready in stacks,
    If he’ll only look in
    On the resident Djinn,
    Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

    He can raise you hosts
    Of ghosts,
    And that without reflectors;
    And creepy things
    With wings,
    And gaunt and grisly spectres.
    He can fill you crowds
    Of shrouds,
    And horrify you vastly;
    He can rack your brains
    With chains,
    And gibberings grim and ghastly!

    Then, if you plan it, he
    Changes organity,
    With an urbanity,
    Full of Satanity,
    Vexes humanity
    With an inanity
    Fatal to vanity –
    Driving your foes to the verge of insanity!

    Barring tautology,
    In demonology,
    ‘Lectro-biology,
    Mystic nosology,
    Spirit philology,
    High-class astrology,
    Such is his knowledge, he
    Isn’t the man to require an apology!

    Oh!
    My name is John Wellington Wells,
    I’m a dealer in magic and spells,
    In blessings and curses
    And ever-filled purses,
    In prophecies, witches, and knells.
    And if any one anything lacks,
    He’ll find it all ready in stacks,
    If he’ll only look in
    On the resident Djinn,
    Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

  7. Sastra, OM says

    I like this version (not sure who wrote it):

    The Hymn Of Kurtz “Randi” Shermer
    (To the tune of “A Modern Major General.”)

    I am the very model of the modern thinker skeptical,
    Each weird belief in tome or brief ends in my trash receptacle.
    There’s UFOs and Bigfoot’s toes and wicca and the Chinese chi,
    And all the silly psi claims that have never failed to displease me
    I am quite sere and very grim of visage and of narrative,
    And raising lots of money for more buildings is imperative,
    To fight the Right’s religious claims and medicine alternative,
    To advertise my new book in our magazine, so won’t ya give?
    I don’t subscribe to fen shui with it’s energizing textiles,
    I stand firm on my condemnation of bad shows like the “X-Files”.
    I’m atheist and skeptical and of my friends ask any pal,
    They’ll tell you I don’t truck with prophets screaming doom millennial.
    And speaking of my CSICOP friends admittedly there’s not a few,
    There’s Klass and Nichols, Gardner, Blackmore, Randi, and there’s Loftus too…
    There’s many more I must ignore for brevity and rhythmic flow,
    As such don’t seek a list like this for each and every CSICOP foe.
    Now I must go to Buffalo to fill my trash receptacle,
    For, I am the very model of the modern thinker Skeptical!

  8. Quiddam says

    I’ve often thought the other patter song from “The Sorcerer” by Gilbert & Sullivan would be a good target for satirising one Jonathan Wells, but I have to say it stands very well completely unaltered. Gilbert must be prescient

    My name is John Wellington Wells,
    I’m a dealer in magic and spells,
    In blessings and curses
    And ever-filled purses,
    In prophecies, witches, and knells.
    If you want a proud foe to “make tracks” –
    If you’d melt a rich uncle in wax –
    You’ve but to look in
    On the resident Djinn,
    Number seventy, Simmery Axe!
    We’ve a first-class assortment of magic;
    And for raising a posthumous shade
    With effects that are comic or tragic,
    There’s no cheaper house in the trade.
    Love-philtre – we’ve quantities of it;
    And for knowledge if any one burns,
    We’re keeping a very small prophet, a prophet
    Who brings us unbounded returns:
    For he can prophesy
    With a wink of his eye,
    Peep with security
    Into futurity,
    Sum up your history,
    Clear up a mystery,
    Humour proclivity
    For a nativity – for a nativity;
    He has answers oracular,
    Bogies spectacular,
    Tetrapods tragical,
    Mirrors so magical,
    Facts astronomical,
    Solemn or comical,
    And, if you want it, he
    Makes a reduction on taking a quantity!
    Oh!
    If any one anything lacks,
    He’ll find it all ready in stacks,
    If he’ll only look in
    On the resident Djinn,
    Number seventy, Simmery Axe!
    He can raise you hosts
    Of ghosts,
    And that without reflectors;
    And creepy things
    With wings,
    And gaunt and grisly spectres.
    He can fill you crowds
    Of shrouds,
    And horrify you vastly;
    He can rack your brains
    With chains,
    And gibberings grim and ghastly!
    Then, if you plan it, he
    Changes organity,
    With an urbanity,
    Full of Satanity,
    Vexes humanity
    With an inanity
    Fatal to vanity –
    Driving your foes to the verge of insanity!
    Barring tautology,
    In demonology,
    ‘Lectro-biology,
    Mystic nosology,
    Spirit philology,
    High-class astrology,
    Such is his knowledge, he
    Isn’t the man to require an apology!
    Oh!
    My name is John Wellington Wells,
    I’m a dealer in magic and spells,
    In blessings and curses
    And ever-filled purses,
    In prophecies, witches, and knells.
    And if any one anything lacks,
    He’ll find it all ready in stacks,
    If he’ll only look in
    On the resident Djinn,
    Number seventy, Simmery Axe!

    (I didn’t paste the whole song in my previous post, would some kind moderator please delete it – Thanks)

  9. says

    #5–ye of little faith
    chorus
    Be-He

    Behold the C-Design-Proponentist!
    A person of imaginary title–
    An ignoramus-obfuscationist
    Whose explanations lean to elan vital!
    Guffaw! Guffaw!
    It’s the C-Design-Proponentist!
    Guffaw! Guffaw!
    It’s the C-Design, the C-Design,
    The C-Design-Proponentist!

    Taken to a county school
    There to teach about creation
    Knowing it’s against the rule
    Acting out of desperation
    Dumber than a pail of drool
    Put the “I” in sal-i-vation
    Thinking I am oh so cool
    Clearly an hallucination
    Never has a duller tool
    In this or any other nation
    Acted as a bigger fool
    It defies imagination

    Taken to a county school
    Taken to a county school
    There to teach about creation
    Dumber than a pail of drool
    Never has a duller tool
    Never has a duller tool
    Acted as a bigger fool
    Acted as a bigger fool

    Guffaw! Guffaw!
    It’s the C-Design-Proponentist!
    Guffaw! Guffaw!
    It’s the C-Design, the C-Design,
    The C-Design-Proponentist!
    Tee-Hee! Bee-Hee!
    It’s the C-Design-Proponentist!
    Guffaw! Guffaw!
    It’s the C-Design, the C-Design,
    The C-Design-Proponentist!

  10. David Marjanović, OM says

    I keep stumbling over “proponentsist”

    Yeah, it’s the only English word with a [ts] in the middle. :-)

    I recommend letting “cdesign” start with [kd]. Takes more practice, but sounds much cooler.

  11. David Marjanović, OM says

    I keep stumbling over “proponentsist”

    Yeah, it’s the only English word with a [ts] in the middle. :-)

    I recommend letting “cdesign” start with [kd]. Takes more practice, but sounds much cooler.

  12. Jay Hovah says

    Cthulhu Carols!

    http://www.duke.edu/web/DRAGO/humor/coc-songs.html

    Rudolph the Red Nosed Cultist
    had a few insanities
    and if you ever saw him
    he’ll be chanting with great glee
    Cthulhu fthagn Ia – aa
    He is sleeping ‘neath the foam
    as he stared out the window
    through the bars where he made his home
    Then one foggy moon streaked eve
    Cthulhu came to say
    Rudolph with your mind so brave
    won’t you be my eternal slave
    then all the other cultists
    join Rudolph the mighty high priest
    has joined Cthulhu in his lair.

  13. says

    Thank you, dear Kiwi–There was not a chance
    I’d be stumped by a G&S parody
    Though mine is Mikado, and his was Penzance,
    Each one can be mined for hilarity
    Whenever a poet pays homage to Gilbert
    It’s truly a test of his brain–
    You’d have to be nuts (that is, more than one filbert),
    You’d have to be fully insane,
    To think that Creationist dogma would fit
    In a piece of satirical verse;
    If it’s Gilbert and Sullivan, then, I submit,
    That the IDiots’ all will be worse.
    I’m not at all threatened by singer or poet,
    Although I can’t claim an immunity,
    It’s just that (the readers here already know it)
    True science is done in community
    So read it, or listen–I know that I did–
    And enjoy it, there’s no need to rant;
    Rejoice that you “got it”, ‘cos, heaven forbid,
    (Or by random mutation) “they” can’t.