I don’t need people posting stuff their students have submitted. I’m in the middle of grading, so I’ve got my own, thank you very much.
Pharyngula
Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal
I don’t need people posting stuff their students have submitted. I’m in the middle of grading, so I’ve got my own, thank you very much.
Salon has a tidy summary of the end-of-the-world claims of Harold Camping.
On May 21, “starting in the Pacific Rim at around the 6 p.m. local time hour, in each time zone, there will be a great earthquake, such as has never been in the history of the Earth,” he says. The true Christian believers — he hopes he’s one of them — will be “raptured”: They’ll fly upward to heaven. And for the rest?
“It’s just the horror of horror stories,” he says, “and on top of all that, there’s no more salvation at that point. And then the Bible says it will be 153 days later that the entire universe and planet Earth will be destroyed forever.”
There you have it: plan your parties for next week at 6pm in your local time zone (how convenient!). You can all count down to the great big 6pm earthquake, and brace yourselves and your drinks just before it hits.
I’ll be hanging out with Jamie Kilstein just before our event at the Washington DC CFI. I’ll have the iPad with me, ready to blog about all the Republicans zooming up into the sky. I’ll be sure to mention any unusual signs and portents on Twitter (hashtag: #RAPTURE) as I stand in the heart of Babylon during the big show.
There’s this strange website run out of Morris, Minnesota: it’s called Giraffes Drawn By People Who Shouldn’t Be Drawing Giraffes, and what it is is a collection of sketches of giraffes drawn by random people Josh Preston collars (perhaps he will ask you for a giraffe someday). He managed to get a giraffe badly drawn by me, which just goes to show that the title of the site is pretty darned accurate, and he’s also got one by Jen who apparently was born to draw giraffes.
Anyway, read them for the stories about getting the pictures, not for the pictures. Although don’t read mine — he reveals awful secrets that may mean he’ll have to disappear soon. Even if it actually is true and accurate in every word.
It’s the meta-argument that’s especially hilarious: here’s a facebook argument over who would win in a fight, Batman or Jesus. The Christians are taking it quite seriously, insisting that Jesus would win. The magic moment is when one declares, “And you’re neglecting the fact that bruce wayne is FICTIONAL!!!”
Yes? And?
Besides, everyone knows the Batman would so kick Jesus’ ass.
…except for the reminder of all of the surveillance cameras my parents used to keep me out of trouble.
It’s either that, or some strange mob of fanatics carrying out some bizarre rite. It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Y’all remember what many of our neightors are commemorating this weekend: the first Zombie Uprising of 33AD.
51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split 52 and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. 53 They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people.
It’s funny how this amazing awesome story didn’t make it into any other historical accounts. Somebody ought to turn it into a novel — you’ll have both the evangelical Christian audience and the graphic horror audience at the same time! Think how much fun the book signings would be!
The Digital Cuttlefish remarks on a certain expulsion…with a poem, of course.
I hate to carp at actually having the saga commemorated, but shouldn’t it have a more martial beat and an alliterative clang to it? And where’s the swordfight? The naked damsel? The villain’s bloody demise? Man, I guess it’s really hard to turn hanging out in the Apple store at the mall into an epic event.
I can tell. It’s coming. A royal heir has gotten engaged to some young woman, and there will be one of those royal weddings, and the sentimental argle-bargle in the British media will soar to new heights of fatuousness. I’ll miss most of it, fortunately, but I pity everyone in the United Kingdom who’s going to have to suffer with the royal romanticism for a while.
At least this time the Telegraph has set the bar for stupidity abysmally low, and I have no idea how anyone else willl sink lower (the fun will be in the trying, I’m sure). Someone has found a jelly bean that looks like Kate Middleton.
I don’t know what this means. Even the candy-making machines in jelly bean factories are infatuated with tabloid press stories about the imminent wedding, and are pressing their obsessions into sugar and gelatin? Kate’s visage is so potent that speckles and spots are spontaneously rejiggering themselves to conform? Or, perhaps, credulous idiots are rife in both the public and tabloid editorial rooms?
I suggest that The Telegraph document this novel property of random dots and send a reporter/photographer to the nearest sewage treatment plant and gaze adoringly into the feculent froth until more detailed images of connubial Windsorness bubble to the surface.
