The Dictionary Atheist Baby

I looked at my cute little atheist baby
(With wonderful new-baby smell!)
And thought that she might be more accurate, maybe
With other descriptors as well
The privative “atheist”, so I’ve been told
Is a measure of what she is not;
It’s clearly the case, if I might be so bold,
There are more words describing the tot:
My baby is flightless; my babe is unwed;
She’s not blonde, for there isn’t a hair on her head;
She’s scale-less, of course, for as much as I’d wish
She has no hint of Mermaid, or tidbit of fish;
She’s hatless, for now, till I give her a hat,
And cloudless as well, though I’m glad about that;
She’s treeless, which helps her to fit in her cot,
And windowless—windows, again, she has not.
She has plenty of cute—I shall not call her cuteless—
And she’s sweeter than Mom’s Apple Pie;
But listing her negatives clearly is fruitless
When privatives do not apply.
In case the verse wasn’t blatant enough… I come down on the side that babies are not “dictionary atheists”, nor are trees, rocks, fish, clouds, or galaxies.  They are undefined with regard to religious terms.  (Ok, they are undefined in my view; some (but not all) religions claim membership from babies, and it is not relevant that the baby actively believe.  This baby is (culturally) orthodox, that one is muslim, even though they have not chosen this membership.  Other religions wait–the anabaptist tradition requires the active choice on the part of an individual to join the church; prior to that, you may be unsaved or perhaps “innocent”.)
In my (privative) view, if there were no religious believers, there would of course be no atheists.  The label would have never been invented, and would have no meaning.  We are all, right now, aflargists, because none of us are flargists.  We are all amulxists, because none of us are mulxists.  I could make up dozens of undefined things we are not.  But I prefer it when words actually have meaning, and give useful information.  It makes no sense to call my baby flightless, although she is “dictionary flightless”.  Since no babies are (I have asked them) active believers in any particular religion, it makes no sense at all to call them atheists.  It is simply a dimension which is undefined with regard to babies.

Were You There? (The Ken Ham Song)

Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water,
Though he knew he hadn’t oughter
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Adam wandered in the garden! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Adam wandered in the garden! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Adam wandered in the garden!
Eve arrived and Adam hardened;
Adam wandered in the garden! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Chorus: 
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water, 
Though he knew he hadn’t oughter
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Brother Noah was a boater! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Brother Noah was a boater! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Brother Noah was a boater,
You’re descended from a floater,
Brother Noah was a boater! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Chorus

God burned Sodom and Gomorrah! Were you there?
(Were you there?)
God burned Sodom and Gomorrah! Were you there?
(Were you there?)
God burned Sodom and Gomorrah!
Oh, the horrah! Oh, the horrah!
God burned Sodom and Gomorrah! Were you there?
(Were you there?)

Chorus

Comments are open for additional verses!

Cuttlecap tip to PZ, here, of course.

Were You There? (The Ken Ham Song)

Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water,
Though he knew he hadn’t oughter
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Adam wandered in the garden! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Adam wandered in the garden! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Adam wandered in the garden!
Eve arrived and Adam hardened;
Adam wandered in the garden! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Chorus: 
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Jesus walked upon the water, 
Though he knew he hadn’t oughter
Jesus walked upon the water! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Brother Noah was a boater! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Brother Noah was a boater! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)
Brother Noah was a boater,
You’re descended from a floater,
Brother Noah was a boater! Were you there?
(Were you there?!)

Chorus

God burned Sodom and Gomorrah! Were you there?
(Were you there?)
God burned Sodom and Gomorrah! Were you there?
(Were you there?)
God burned Sodom and Gomorrah!
Oh, the horrah! Oh, the horrah!
God burned Sodom and Gomorrah! Were you there?
(Were you there?)

Chorus

Comments are open for additional verses!

Cuttlecap tip to PZ, here, of course.

Get The Flock Outta Here!

So I was on my way to the store this morning, and A Prairie Home Companion was on the radio.  Long show, short trip, so I may have missed some context, but a song begins.  It was simple, it was cheerful, and the audience was encouraged to sing along at one point, but I had never heard it before.  Oddly enough, if I had written the lyrics myself, I’d have rejected them as too simplistic in their one-dimensional and insulting portrayal of believers.  But here, without a trace of irony, they were singing what I have since learned is a christian campfire song: “I wanna be a sheep”.

Now, I understand the metaphor of Jesus as shepherd; I had always assumed that it was sort of a “given that we are lost sheep, isn’t it nice to have a shepherd watching over us” metaphor.  I had never considered the “hey, isn’t it great to be a sheep, a mindless member of a herd!” interpretation.  But it turns out there are quite a few versions (the one at that last link is bizarre) of the song up on YouTube.

Frightening.  I assume the multiple watermarks on the photos are there ironically, since good christian sheep would never steal.

I wanna be a sheep (baa ba-baa baa)
I wanna be a sheep (baa ba-baa baa)
Don’t ever wanna have to think too deep
I just wanna be a sheep (baa ba-ba-baa baa)

I wanna be a drone (mmmmmmmmmmmmm)
I wanna be a drone (mmmmmmmmmmmmm)
Don’t ever wanna have a thought of my own
I just wanna be a drone (mmmmmmmmmmmm)

Don’t wanna be a cuttlefish (cuttlefish-noise)
Don’t wanna be a cuttlefish (cuttlefish-noise)
Cos they’re too subtle fish
Don’t wanna be a cuttlefish (cuttlefish-noise)

Don’t wanna be… oh, I can’t go on.

Get The Flock Outta Here!

So I was on my way to the store this morning, and A Prairie Home Companion was on the radio.  Long show, short trip, so I may have missed some context, but a song begins.  It was simple, it was cheerful, and the audience was encouraged to sing along at one point, but I had never heard it before.  Oddly enough, if I had written the lyrics myself, I’d have rejected them as too simplistic in their one-dimensional and insulting portrayal of believers.  But here, without a trace of irony, they were singing what I have since learned is a christian campfire song: “I wanna be a sheep”.

Now, I understand the metaphor of Jesus as shepherd; I had always assumed that it was sort of a “given that we are lost sheep, isn’t it nice to have a shepherd watching over us” metaphor.  I had never considered the “hey, isn’t it great to be a sheep, a mindless member of a herd!” interpretation.  But it turns out there are quite a few versions (the one at that last link is bizarre) of the song up on YouTube.

Frightening.  I assume the multiple watermarks on the photos are there ironically, since good christian sheep would never steal.

I wanna be a sheep (baa ba-baa baa)
I wanna be a sheep (baa ba-baa baa)
Don’t ever wanna have to think too deep
I just wanna be a sheep (baa ba-ba-baa baa)

I wanna be a drone (mmmmmmmmmmmmm)
I wanna be a drone (mmmmmmmmmmmmm)
Don’t ever wanna have a thought of my own
I just wanna be a drone (mmmmmmmmmmmm)

Don’t wanna be a cuttlefish (cuttlefish-noise)
Don’t wanna be a cuttlefish (cuttlefish-noise)
Cos they’re too subtle fish
Don’t wanna be a cuttlefish (cuttlefish-noise)

Don’t wanna be… oh, I can’t go on.

Another Funeral

You can die in bits and pieces; you can die in one quick flash
Die the ancient voice of wisdom, or die early, young and brash
Tuck your body in a coffin; pick an urn to hold your ash
Your survivors will remember you and cry
In the stories of your childhood, of your young and reckless past
How you fiercely burned your candle—who could think it would not last?
You could live to be a hundred; it would still be gone too fast
Life is never seen so brief as when we die
This weekend’s funeral was, again, beautiful, though again not so beautiful that I would not have wished it unnecessary.  I was moved more than I expected to be (this was not, after all, my brother this time), and was reminded once again that each life touches so many others, often in ways that are hidden from pretty much any witness.  
Strangely, I am also reminded of the mass graves–most recently in Brazil, following the mudslides, but elsewhere and elsewhen other disasters or wars–where entire communities have been lost, or where the necessities of safety and health mean that there will be no funeral, no memorial, no gathering of loved ones.  I really am one of the lucky ones, to be able to remember my family this way.
A last thought though–yes, I’m one of the lucky ones, but luckier still would be to push these funerals as far into the future as we can.  The local papers remind us that January’s supplies of blood in the Red Cross banks are the lowest they have been in a decade.  Snowstorms keep people from blood drives, but they don’t keep people from needing blood.  So, as I do on occasion, I remind you that, here in the US at least, you can find out about your local bloodmobiles at the Red Cross website.  Tell them Cuttlefish sent you.

Another Funeral

You can die in bits and pieces; you can die in one quick flash
Die the ancient voice of wisdom, or die early, young and brash
Tuck your body in a coffin; pick an urn to hold your ash
Your survivors will remember you and cry
In the stories of your childhood, of your young and reckless past
How you fiercely burned your candle—who could think it would not last?
You could live to be a hundred; it would still be gone too fast
Life is never seen so brief as when we die
This weekend’s funeral was, again, beautiful, though again not so beautiful that I would not have wished it unnecessary.  I was moved more than I expected to be (this was not, after all, my brother this time), and was reminded once again that each life touches so many others, often in ways that are hidden from pretty much any witness.  
Strangely, I am also reminded of the mass graves–most recently in Brazil, following the mudslides, but elsewhere and elsewhen other disasters or wars–where entire communities have been lost, or where the necessities of safety and health mean that there will be no funeral, no memorial, no gathering of loved ones.  I really am one of the lucky ones, to be able to remember my family this way.
A last thought though–yes, I’m one of the lucky ones, but luckier still would be to push these funerals as far into the future as we can.  The local papers remind us that January’s supplies of blood in the Red Cross banks are the lowest they have been in a decade.  Snowstorms keep people from blood drives, but they don’t keep people from needing blood.  So, as I do on occasion, I remind you that, here in the US at least, you can find out about your local bloodmobiles at the Red Cross website.  Tell them Cuttlefish sent you.

Strange Bedfellows at CPAC

A group of gay Republicans
Would tell the truth, they vowed;
These honest, gay, conservatives
Became the GOProud
They would not live life closeted,
Nor with the liberal crowd;
They bravely blazed a different trail—
They were the GOProud
With insight and intelligence
These gay men were endowed;
Their work insured Republicans
Respected GOProud
Conservatives are gathering
To celebrate out loud;
Among the groups responsible,
The mighty GOProud
But there are some conservatives
Who’d keep their brethren cowed;
They will not share the conference with
The sinful GOProud
Some say they pitch a giant tent—
Well, gays are not allowed—
The GOP has bigots, too,
Who shun the GOProud.
Their thoughts are fixed on heaven,
So their heads are in a cloud;
They’d rather miss the conference than
Accept the GOProud
So let the Christian Right demand
Their party wear a shroud;
I’m glad the mainstream GOP
Embraces GOProud.
In the “strange bedfellows” department, the Conservative Political Action Conference (next month, in DC), “the conservative movement’s largest gathering of the year” (NY Times) has lots of daddies.  Including GOProud, the conservative gay organization (because the Log Cabin Republicans were more Gay than Republican, GOProud emerged as the more Republican than Gay alternative).   
Now, I am not a Republican.  But I am very happy to see the mainstream conservative groups sponsoring CPAC are ever-so-slightly more modern less medieval than the [predominately] church-based groups that have refused to share their Big Tent with fellow conservatives who agree with them on better than 90% of their agenda… but who love their fellow men a bit more literally than the bible-bangers can stomach.
The New York Times story focuses on the “Divisions On The Right”, but really, the “divisions” are very meaningfully different.  And this is good news (sorta–bear with me here).  Yes, conservative Christian Pinheads are Homophobic Assholes.  This is Not News.  What is news, though, is that a Gay group is a co-sponsor of the Conservative Political Action Conference.  Yes, it should have happened with the Log Cabin Republicans, and yes, it should not have required even that.   But movement is movement, even if it makes plate tectonics look like speed dating. 

Strange Bedfellows at CPAC

A group of gay Republicans
Would tell the truth, they vowed;
These honest, gay, conservatives
Became the GOProud
They would not live life closeted,
Nor with the liberal crowd;
They bravely blazed a different trail—
They were the GOProud
With insight and intelligence
These gay men were endowed;
Their work insured Republicans
Respected GOProud
Conservatives are gathering
To celebrate out loud;
Among the groups responsible,
The mighty GOProud
But there are some conservatives
Who’d keep their brethren cowed;
They will not share the conference with
The sinful GOProud
Some say they pitch a giant tent—
Well, gays are not allowed—
The GOP has bigots, too,
Who shun the GOProud.
Their thoughts are fixed on heaven,
So their heads are in a cloud;
They’d rather miss the conference than
Accept the GOProud
So let the Christian Right demand
Their party wear a shroud;
I’m glad the mainstream GOP
Embraces GOProud.
In the “strange bedfellows” department, the Conservative Political Action Conference (next month, in DC), “the conservative movement’s largest gathering of the year” (NY Times) has lots of daddies.  Including GOProud, the conservative gay organization (because the Log Cabin Republicans were more Gay than Republican, GOProud emerged as the more Republican than Gay alternative).   
Now, I am not a Republican.  But I am very happy to see the mainstream conservative groups sponsoring CPAC are ever-so-slightly more modern less medieval than the [predominately] church-based groups that have refused to share their Big Tent with fellow conservatives who agree with them on better than 90% of their agenda… but who love their fellow men a bit more literally than the bible-bangers can stomach.
The New York Times story focuses on the “Divisions On The Right”, but really, the “divisions” are very meaningfully different.  And this is good news (sorta–bear with me here).  Yes, conservative Christian Pinheads are Homophobic Assholes.  This is Not News.  What is news, though, is that a Gay group is a co-sponsor of the Conservative Political Action Conference.  Yes, it should have happened with the Log Cabin Republicans, and yes, it should not have required even that.   But movement is movement, even if it makes plate tectonics look like speed dating. 

Congress(7)woman Bachman

A forefather-fetish gets Bachman all wettish,
And frightfully warm in her bloomers
She’s all hot and bothered and “ooh, founding father”ed;
She wants to dispel all the rumors
That the founders she craves were the type to own slaves
And to hold fellow humans in chains
In defense of her crushes her brain turns to mush,
As it quite understandably strains
In this instance we find that love truly is blind
And she really believes what she’s sighing
But when push comes to shove, though it may be true love,
The other true thing is—she’s lying.

By now you have likely seen Congresswoman Michelle Bachman’s Tea Party reaction to the State of the Union Address. And probably some of the reaction to her brand of revisionist history. If not, the couple of videos here will get you up to speed.

I think I have the whole thing figured out. Bachman has a crush on the founding fathers. She’s got a journal somewhere where she has written “Michelle Adams”, “Michelle Madison”, “Michelle Jefferson” and “Michelle Washington” over and over and over… you can tell she gets excited by the way her quill pen sometimes runs out of ink when she forgets to re-dip it, and the exquisitely curled script becomes illegible. I suspect she ran for Congress when she saw definition 7 while looking for definition 1: