Even though I’ll mock the stupid, I kind of identify with them. Maybe my
expectations are too high, but I thought by this point in my life I would have
cured cancer and/or perfected time travel. As it stands, I can barely make
coffee. Accordingly, it might seem hypocritical to pick on society’s retards,
but I have to think that stupidity comes in degrees, and anyone worse off than
me is fair game.
In other words, I may be dumb for not knowing what the fuck a cosine is, but
I can still make fun of the type of idiot who eats the breath mints that came in
his pants pockets and then dies when those mints turn out to be poisonous
desiccants. On the flip side, if Stephen Hawking ever wants to ridicule me, I’ll
have no choice but to allow it as he’s way smarter. Also, he can unfold into a
huge robotic exoskeleton that could crush me.
"Much like their overalls, or their favorite brand of chewin’
tobacco, Creationists simply refuse to change their minds."
So, there’s a
hierarchy of stupid, and I think I’ve figured out
who occupies the bottom rung. Here’s a hint: They’re mostly
southern, and they’re not really good at science. No, it’s not the
Atlanta Falcons’ defense, it’s the creationists. The hardcore
fruitcakes who are convinced that Charles Darwin was sent by the
devil to spread discord, breathe fire, and stomp on puppies. Those
motherfuckers fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on
the way down.
Maybe I just haven’t been listening to enough Christian rock, but I just
can’t get behind a theory that maintains all life was created by an invisible
old man who lives on a cloud. Religion is just not my thing. I once asked a
Catholic priest if communion wafers could be made in cool ranch flavor. He let
me know, in no uncertain terms, that the body of Christ was not meant to have a
delicious tangy zip.
My point is, I was willing to work alongside organized religion, but they
didn’t like my idea for X-Treme Waferz™. And that’s the same kind of ignorance
that’s afflicting creationists. They just can’t see the obvious truth staring
them in their faces, which are probably malformed due to inbreeding. Evolution
is a fact, and creation is a myth. And not even a good myth, like the Island of
Amazon women who cut off their right boobs so as not to interfere with archery
skills.
You want evidence? Look at the damn platypus. It’s allegedly a mammal, but it
lays eggs, injects venom, and locates prey by detecting electric fields
generated by muscular contractions. I could do a quadruple hit of acid, and
still invent a more sensible animal, and my flying, razor-beaked dachshund would
agree. There’s no way any omnipotent being created something so fucked up as the
platypus.
Apart from my own platypus hatred, there is plenty of other evidence against
creation. Darwinists, or as I call them, people who have read a book, can point
to any number of fossils. These fossils depict life in earlier stages, and they
had to come from somewhere. I don’t think God would create man in his image, and
leave a bunch of meaningless fossils lying around to fuck with our heads. If he
really wanted
a laugh at our expense, he could have arranged it so that men peak sexually
at 17, and women at 32. Oh, wait....
Have you ever really thought about why creationists object to the Theory of
Evolution? Darwin himself wasn’t a bad guy. By all accounts, he believed in God,
and almost never hunted Chinamen for sport. I think creationists specifically
object to the idea that humans have simian ancestry. Monkeys and apes are mere
creatures, so the idea is insulting to them.
I say they’re too proud. Monkeys kick ass. You can make them wear funny
outfits and smoke cigars. They’re the court jesters of the animal kingdom.
Moreover, gorillas are fierce and noble warriors with prominent red buttocks.
Personally, I have no problem claiming an ancestry like that.
I’ve seen Planet of the Apes almost twice, and I’d much rather have monkeys
in my past than in my future. Unless we’re talking about a hot ape-mistress like
Helena Bonham Carter. She’s chimpan-HOT! I ask you, how many times do we need to
stumble upon the toppled Statue of Liberty before we accept that monkeys aren’t
so bad?
According to the bible, God created the earth and everything on it in seven
days. Now, I’m willing to accept that God is a pretty diligent worker who
didn’t even have the internet around to distract him, but that seems like a
lot to take on for just one week. Could He have planned all the little details,
like how bees would make honey, or how gamma bombs would turn scientists into
incredible hulks? I don’t think so.
In order to legitimize their insane beliefs, creationists now express them in
terms of “intelligent design.” To me, intelligent design is a phrase that
applies to maybe 60% of the furniture you can find at Ikea. But to many, it’s
the shining knight that will slay the twin dragons of evolution and natural
selection.
Speaking of dragons, some creationists actually think that they’re just
exaggerated depictions of what we now call dinosaurs, therefore humans and
dinosaurs must have co-existed. That kind of earnest stupidity surely deserves
some kind of trophy, with the sharp edges filed down to reduce the risk of an
eye-pokin’.
Anyway, according to intelligent design, everything is so complex that it had
to be designed by a being of greater intelligence. For example, if an
archaeologist finds a statue in a field, he’d finish humping it, justifiably
conclude it was designed and then reasonably seek to identify the statue's
designer. He wouldn’t be justified in making the same claim if he found an
irregularly shaped boulder of the same size.
Those who champion intelligent design are generally careful to avoid naming
who the intelligent designer might be. After all, it’s hard to maintain an aura
of pseudoscience if you’re slinging around God’s name like so many wiffleballs.
But let’s be honest: I highly doubt these people are imagining a race of
advanced space monsters or some crazy,
six-headed elephant god from India.
Less confrontational parties on both sides sometimes try to reconcile
evolution and creationism, often with hilarious results. They’ll claim “Let
there be light” really refers to the Big Bang (which also happens to be my
penis’ nickname, although the bible doesn’t mention that specifically). Or that
each of the seven days God took to create the world is an allegorical
representation of many eons. To me, this sounds a little desperate. It’s the
scientific equivalent of making cereal, realizing you’ve got no milk, and using
ketchup instead. Some things were just not meant to be reconciled.
You might wonder why this is even an important issue. If a group of misguided
subnormals wants to believe that humanity was sculpted out of magic clay, it’s
no skin off my ass, right? Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. In parts of
America, there is a powerful creationist lobby group. Alarmingly, some schools
have banned the teaching of evolutionary theory. I was pissed when my school
banned baseball caps, but at least that wouldn’t necessarily hurt my chances of
getting on Jeopardy.
These poor kids are having their educations seriously impaired. What if one
of them was destined to be a great scientist who wiped out AIDS or invented a
sweet pair of rocket shoes? With such a serious educational misstep out of the
gate, such a kid might find himself working the Krispy Kreme Konveyor Belt
instead.
I also have a personal reason for disdaining creationists. I used to live
next door to one. Maddeningly, she was a white-hot chick with an amazing body
and an adorable accent. I tried everything short of tying her to railroad tracks
to get her to date me. But as Abraham Lincoln once said “Straight-laced,
ultra-religious creationists usually won’t date brash Jews with atheistic
tendencies.” And I think he was right.
We often argued evolution vs. creation. I didn’t really care about the issue,
but it gave me an excuse to talk to her, and by extension, stare at her
cleavage. In one of my weaker moments, I even pretended to be swayed by her
arguments. Perhaps my sudden acceptance of her ridiculous stories would be the
tipping point that caused her to fall into my arms.
Naturally, that didn’t happen, and I’ve never forgiven myself for abandoning
my beliefs like that. I’ve also never forgiven myself for not having a camera on
hand the day she left her shutters open while changing. That itself is not the
fault of creationism, but I was already carrying a grudge by then. I realized
evolution must exist, because no intelligent designer would waste such a hot
body on someone with
such an off-putting personality.
I’ll say one thing for creationists. They might be deluded, but they sure
have a lot of conviction (and, probably, convictions). Much like their overalls,
or their favorite brand of chewin’ tobacco, they simply refuse to change their
minds. It might be a fool’s errand to try and talk sense into any of them, but
I’ll never stop trying. As a more evolved species myself, it’s the least I can
do for them.
