Nautilus belauensis copulating
Figure from Cephalopods: A World Guide (amzn/b&n/abe/pwll), by Mark Norman.
Pharyngula
Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal
(This is a rather long response to a chapter in Jonathan Wells’ dreadful and most unscholarly book, Icons of Evolution)
The story of Haeckel’s embryos is different in an important way from that of the other chapters in Jonathan Wells’ book. As the other authors show, Wells has distorted ideas that are fundamentally true in order to make his point: all his rhetoric to the contrary, Archaeopteryx is a transitional fossil, peppered moths and Darwin’s finches do tell us significant things about evolution, four-winged flies do tell us significant things about developmental pathways, and so forth. In those parts of the book, Wells has to try and cover up a truth by misconstruing and misrepresenting it.
If you had a lonely Valentine’s Day, it’s my fault. I should have passed along these infallible Darwinian pick-up lines to you.
It’s not too late, though…there’s a weekend coming up, try them out and let us all know how it works out.
We evolutionists had our big day on 12 February, when we celebrated the birthday of Charles Darwin. It seems only fair, then, that the Intelligent Design creationists should also have a special day, when we contemplate their special style of ‘science’. I think today, the 15th of February, is an appropriate day.
It’s a holy day to Cargo Cultists, those Pacific islanders who believed that erecting symbolic runways and effigies of airplanes would summon a return of the cargo, the riches of America. The Intelligent Design creationists have also put up a simulacrum, the Biologic Institute, with fume hoods and white lab coats, from which they hope to summon scientific credibility. They’ve also been fooled into thinking the appearance is the same as the substance.
Since literal Cargo Cultists aren’t a significant presence in the US, but creationists are, I suggest we appropriate this holiday and call it Intelligent Design Day. Don’t worry about going to any effort to celebrate it, though—all you have to do is pretend that you are celebrating it, just as the Intelligent Design creationists pretend that they’re doing science.
At least that’s the case according to some bad movie geology.
This is what happens when movies get made with no dogs involved—all the common sense is stripped right out of them.
The Atheist Experience has Kent Hovind’s phone calls from jail online. Hovind is such a pretentious fraud; he compares himself to George Washington and the IRS to the Mafia and Hitler’s minions, and insists through it all that he’s completely innocent. He also makes the claim that the people persecuting him will get their comeuppance on Judgement Day—that belief must be such a consolation to many petty crooks.
I did feel a little sympathy for his wife, who does express some worry and remorse…and good ol’ Kent just barrels over her concerns and tries to tell her what the law is. That tactic worked on his wife, but it doesn’t seem to have impressed the lawyers or judge.
Read House Bill H0224, the appointment of a state poet laureate, and you’ll see what I mean.
Since somebody asked, I will confirm that I will be at the showing of Flock of Dodos tomorrow. That’s going to be at 7:00pm in the Bell Museum auditorium ($7 admission). Randy Olson won’t be there (rumor has it he’s busy flitting from showing to showing, but Minneapolis just isn’t good enough for him…too far from the ocean or something), but Steven Miller, the executive producer of the movie, will be—so really, you’ll be able to ask in-depth questions about what went into making the movie. It’s a great opportunity. Argue with him, too! A movie and a discussion about how to communicate science; how can you pass it up?
I’m also not doing my usual zip in, zip out routine this time—I’m spending the night in the Big City. That means that if anyone wants to collar me afterwards and force me to listen to your objections to my evil stridency, you can do so! If you buy me a beer, at least.
