Cuttlefish in Genesis

So I was ego-surfing, and basking in all the wonderful cephalopoddity that comes with being a cuttlefish, when I happened upon a delightful little piece on cuttlefish, written by those helpful and friendly people at Answers in Genesis. Sure, the article was a few years old, but it was the first I had seen it, and it did say some nice things about cuttlefish. I mean, look—“The world’s oceans are filled with amazingly complex creatures, perhaps none more so than the cuttlefish.” I would be hard pressed to disagree.

The essay begins by reminding us of how strange cuttlefish may appear upon casual observation: “With green blood, three hearts, and able to change colour in a flash, it sounds like a ‘weird aliens’ movie creature.” All true, of course—but in case you were thinking that cuttlefish might prove a problem for creationist apologists, they are quick to point out how the adorable, intelligent cephalopods are here to serve mankind: “Actually, the cuttlefish is a seafood delicacy.”

*sigh*

You might think that AIG would do their level best to ignore cuttlefish, but no! In this “weird alien”, they find evidence of Intelligent Design! (Oh, wait, this is AIG—I can actually call it “creationism” here.)

The cuttlefish also has eyes which are similar in construction to human eyes, but evolutionists do not believe it has any direct evolutionary relationship to humans (i.e. there is no possible ancestor to both cuttlefish and humans which could have had such an eye). So this similarity is explained away as ‘convergent evolution’: the eyes of the cuttlefish and other cephalopods ‘evolved independently’ to humans. In other words, it is simply an evolutionary coincidence.

However, the similarity in the design of both the cuttlefish and human eye is easily explained—they had the same Designer! The origins of the amazing features of the cuttlefish can be more easily explained if we accept it as just another miraculous example of the work of the Creator.

Pah! Enough prose—my point is….

Similarity shows that a common designer
With similar blueprints and parts
Constructed the human and cuttlefish forms—
I swear by all three of your hearts.

The God who created the heavens and earth
And killed dinosaurs off in The Flood
Used the same old ideas again and again
You can tell by your copper-green blood.

But the clearest, most obvious clue to His Touch
Is the similar form to our eye
(They are really quite different, in various ways,
But if you won’t tell, neither will I).

Color-blind cuttlefish never see red
But they can see polarized light;
This common designer gets different effects
Out of human and cuttlefish sight.

Anatomically, too, these are two different eyes
They have retinas frontward-to-back,
And cuttlefish reshape the whole of their eye
Because shapeable lenses they lack.

The shape of the pupil allows them to see
To the front and the rear all at once
So similar, clearly, to what we can do—
If you dare disagree, you’re a dunce!

When Answers in Genesis says it’s design
And not just a matter of fitness
I know they’re not fibbing—right there, number nine—
Thou shalt not bear false witness.

I only have one little, lingering doubt
Though I really, I promise, am trying—
If it’s perfectly clear they see common design
It’s even more clear that they’re lying.

Freud would call it Castration Anxiety

It’s that old familiar story–cretinist mocks legitimate scientist, not because of her work, but because she’s… a she. Here, originally,
then here.

No surprise that “doctor” Behe
(*snorfle* *chuckle* *giggle* *tee-hee*)
Will belittle, mock, misrepresent
The actions of a female

For since the time of Adam
Men could rib each miss or madam
And with Freudian analysis
Conclude they want to be male

Now he tries to bore and tire us
With a rant about a virus
That he clearly doesn’t comprehend
(one wonders if he can)

What I guess I really mean is
He is thinking with his penis
I suppose it’s too important that
He shows that he’s The Man.

cellular biology…an excerpt

…

In every cell, the means of replication,
Monomers (they’re termed “nucleotides”)
A sugar and a base in combination
Link in helix, forming side by side;
Guanine will attach to cytosine
Always “G to C” or “C to G”
And thymine will as well, to adenine
With “T to A” or maybe “A to T”
The polymer called DNA is made
By adding monomers onto the end.
In living cells, a template strand will aid
The synthesis—the two strands now will bend
In double helix form, as we have seen.
The information carried in this strand
Will be transcribed by RNA; it’s been
Discovered that this process has a hand
In synthesizing proteins—but that’s still
To come—for now, we take a closer look
And see thymine replaced by uracil;
A slightly different way to write our book.

…
http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2007/10/st_olaf_talk.php#more

The one-eyed…nevermind…

At one time or other, each sister and brother
Has pondered the musical question
(The topic’s not easy, just take it from PZ):
How an eyeball is like an erection.

The answers may vary—be skeptically wary—
Like “Both can display your affection.”
Well, so can a rose, but that doesn’t disclose
How an eyeball is like an erection.

Perhaps evolution provides a solution
Both organs arise through selection
But so, then, do fingers; the question still lingers
How an eyeball is like an erection.

We may hope to deduce, if we try to reduce
To a chemical sort of connection
But will “similar stuff” prove an answer enough
How an eyeball is like an erection?

Nitric Oxide (you know, you can call it NO)
Causes GuMP to take up a collection
So that GuMP, for a lark, keeps your dick “in the dark”
Thus an eyeball is like an erection

Reproductive success got us into this mess
So it might get us out, on reflection—
But Viagra, we find, is not blindly designed
We distinguish both eye and erection.

With both vision and hearing, the answers are nearing
(Although we can’t hope for perfection),
And for now it’s just fine as a bad pick-up line:
How an eyeball is like an erection.*

(*answer: “It’s an empirical question—let’s experiment, and find out.)

Pharyngula asks the question…
…based on effectmeasure’s post.

Templeton has no purpose

The question of the universe’s purpose, whether posed vocally or in text,
Leaves people vexed.

Although, I would not be averse
To studying the purpose, characteristics, ins and outs of Miss Universe.

So, rather than debating whether or not a black hole is evidence of Where God Went Wrong,
I can see whether Miss Brazil or Miss Argentina looks better in a thong.

So that I can get back to the business of inspecting the finest examples of female form in the human race,
I will suggest that the purpose of the universe is: to take up space.

“No purposes but those we create” on Pharyngula

Plot synopsis

Pharyngula reports on the movie “Einstein Wrong”…

Albert Einstein (that poseur) was wrong;
The housewife, of course, has it right.
The film clearly shows that stupidity flows
Just a little bit faster than light.

With the “dark side of physics” exposed
And the world once again seen as flat
The film next unlocks Dr. Schroedinger’s box
And discovers what’s up with his cat.

Joseph Priestly was also a fraud—
There’s no “oxygen”—perish the thought!
And with oxygen pissed on, it’s time that phlogiston
Is once again what kids are taught.

The de Hilsters’ new paradigm shift—
“The new physics”, we call it at work—
Shows a housewife can still, through the sheer force of will,
Kick the ass of a dumb patent clerk.

You may all disagree if you wish;
You may find it a little bit funny
But the most crucial part—from the depths of my heart…
Won’t you please send us lots of your money?

Version 2.7

The “cognitive daily” blog asks: Will humans marry robots in 50 years?

Linky.

She’s my little bit of heaven, even better than real life,
She’s the version 2.7 motor-actuated wife.
When I come home from the office, she’s a sympathetic ear,
With the faintest scent of silicone I catch as we draw near.
“Here, let me take your papers, Hon, and let me rub your back;
You must have had a stressful day—come on, let’s hit the sack.”
Her lips are warm and supple, with a kiss that shows desire—
A brilliant application of a bit of memory wire.
She trembles gently at my touch, as strain-gauge sensors feel,
And as she starts to moan and gasp, you’d swear that she was real.
But she’s better than a flesh-and-blood—For one thing, she has codes
Allowing me to choose from seventeen vibration modes!
She never has a headache; there’s no in-laws to avoid;
Heck, I’ve never even had the need to change a solenoid!
She’s my little bit of heaven, even better than real life,
She’s the version 2.7 motor-actuated wife.

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Rainbows and Rubies…

Once upon a time, the rainbow’s end
Is where a leprechaun would hide his gold
Then Newton showed us how a glass would bend
A beam of light—a rainbow we behold!

This bending light is what allows, today,
A view of distant galaxies and more
The start of time itself is on display
And lifetimes’ worth of treasures to explore.

These treasures, it now seems, include real jewels
When quasar jets spit rubies and sapphires;
From Newton’s prism, oh what wondrous tools
Expose a treasure passing all desires

The rainbow’s gold’s forgotten; this is real:
A myth discarded, treasures may reveal!

Inspired by
This blogpost at Cat Dynamics

Much Ado About…The Brain?

“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”
Much Ado, IV.i.284-285

A student at Pharyngula asks “why do we still talk about the heart?”

The sound of your voice thrills my temporal lobe,
My occipital swoons at your sight;
When we walk hand in hand, my parietal and
My prefrontal are filled with delight.

My thalamus and hypothalamus know,
Without anyone having to tell ‘em,
That I’m head over heels, and it certainly feels
Like I am to my poor cerebellum.

Hippocampally organized memories tell
Of the way people look and admire us;
It’s like walking with god, but that’s really the odd
Way I feel my right angular gyrus.

My amygdala swells with desire for you,
But with rage and fear? Nope, nada.
My pulse will race, and my breath keep pace,
Thanks, medulla oblongata.

Master Shakespeare, speaking through Beatrice, might
Have nearly said it best:
“I love you with so much of my brain
That none is left to protest.”