It has been an eventful month, so I am rather surprised to have so much to post here.

First, a comment on the “millions of years” wrecking ball at the creation sci… *snorfle*… science muse *hee hee* museum:

Six thousand years since Adam’s “birth”–
The bible tells us so.
A few more days, the age of Earth;
P.Z., you ought to know!

The sediments were all laid down
As rivers ran their courses
And fossils deep within the ground
Are merely Jesus Horses!

The “old-earth” claim, a wrecking ball
Assaulting my belief,
Will never cause my faith to fall,
But always cause me grief;

I grieve for people everywhere–
It really gives me pains–
Who cannot bring their faith to bear…

And have to use their brains.

Of course, at that museum *snort*… PZ got a bit of flack for riding the triceratops that everyone rides:

You take it as a point of pride
To sit upon a child’s ride
A fiberglass triceratops, a propaganda tool–
A sauropod of fiberglass
To cushion and support your ass
The photographic evidence is there for us, you fool!

How dare you flaunt the rules divine,
As posted on the little sign,
Restricting it to little kids, not Doctors in disguise!
Although you only meant to laugh
It’s serious to us! The staff
Alone are drawing paychecks here for emphasizing lies!

Oh, let’s see… Oh, yeah, Dembski is offering credit for 200-word posts:

I will not spell-check; must not edit—
There is no time; it’s extra credit!
For Dembski’s class, I think perhaps
I think I need to write ALL CAPS!
(or maybe not—it’s hard to tell;
The wrong choice, though, may lead to Hell!)
I have to say, cos it’s my grade,
THIS IS THE WORLD THAT JEEBUS MADE!
(It’s time to check—that’s sixty-two,
I need more words to get me through.
I need two hundred words or more
To get me Dembski’s perfect score!)
LOOK AT THE WORLD, AND YOU WILL FIND
IT’S ALL INTELLIGENTLY DESIGNED!
(The meter’s wrong, but no one cares—
A hundred words; I’m halfway there!)
It may seem callous, even cold,
But now it’s time to post in bold—
Or else, perhaps, I spoke in haste,
And ought to go with cut and paste,
With plagiarizing Dembski’s words,
Regardless if the meaning’s blurr’d.
And time to find a proper site
With points for all I’m doing right!
I think I’ll choose Pharyngula
Where scientists all mingle, ah…
To post my extra-credit screed
For everybody now to read
And offer their analysis
Regarding my hypothesis:
And now, although it seems absurd
My post has hit 200 words.

What else… Oh, yeah, a church votes to do something right, despite centuries of entrenched prejudice:

Amps and volts and lightning bolts
Are sometimes God’s Own Word;
Unless, of course, we disagree,
In which case it’s absurd.

Great news this is, although in truth
It’s more than some can swallow;
But where the people speak their mind
Their leader–God–must follow.

A bit of a rant on morality and religion… someone noted lines 5 and 6 in a comment on Pharyngula; I liked that, since it is the entire poem, condensed.

The Word Of God, conveniently for those of us who hate,
Will always back our hatred with religion’s holy weight.
The good may credit God, of course; sing praises to his name–
The bad, as well, cite scripture, which they loudly will proclaim!
The Word Of God is leather-bound, and sits upon your shelf,
And lets you blame a deity for things you do yourself.
You’re good, or bad, or neither; you are moral or you’re not;
You think that God contributed? He did precisely squat.
It’s you who takes the credit, and it’s you who takes the blame;
No God controlled your hatred, so don’t try to spread the blame.
So go ahead; pretend that you are acting on God’s word;
Both you and we know better; you’re a coward and a turd.

And lastly, a comment on the “logic” of one of the sharper minds of creationism:

He’s razor-sharp, or even keener,
Calm and cool is his demeanor;
Ranting “Neener, neener, neener!”
Never was his style;
Poised and thoughtful, his debating,
Never stoops to low berating,
Turns aside barbaric hating
Merely with a smile.
Logic is the tool he uses,
Striking when and where he chooses;
Quick and strong, he never loses–
Always wins the prize;
Ready for a rough-and-tumble
Sure of foot; he’ll never stumble.
Through it all, remaining humble…
Problem is, he lies.