In defense of H. Erectus

I believe I've been hoodwinked. At a blog I rarely attend to because of its blatant commercialism [being personally above that sort of thing], I happened upon an intriguing Google adword.

That one on the left. Let it be known that I never, as a rule, ever, click on these sorts of things under normal circumstances. Yet today I did. Creationists, it can be said, have a strange and mystical power over me. Anyone who interprets a book with talking serpents and giants literally because it also has genealogy charts fascinates me.

It fascinates me the way I imagine killdeer fascinate badgers. There they are, cute little things, flapping on the ground, utterly helpless with their poor arguments. You creep up and are about to pounce with all your intellectual force and ooops, they flitter away, not earthbound by the principles of logic other beings are. "I say sir, you can't do that," you offer in protest, but they don't care, they have faith Satan put those big, intellectually-challenging bones in the ground.

To be fair, it is probably true that their "daddy weren't no gat-damned monkey."

More to the point, the ad was just so perfectly contextual. See, I was reading about this little disclaimer being put in science text books these days--the books America's children are reading in school. To wit:

This textbook contains material on evolution. Evolution is a theory, not a fact, regarding the origin of living things. This material should be approached with an open mind, studied carefully and critically considered.

Thank you creationists for that. This statement could, of course, be made about everything from the heliocentric model to big 'G' gravity. Science by definition must be falsifiable, and therefore everything science-related must always be carefully and critically considered. Evolution is not the exception.

So it's a stupid nonvictory anywhere real science is being done. It may, however, be a real victory where it really matters, that gigantic litmus test called the idiot arena of public opinion.

But that's far beside the point, we've got more self-congratulatory fish to fry. This advertisement, its wording resonated my brain pan, piercing and siren-like.

Creation verses (sic) Evolution

At first I thought, "Battle royale . . ."

50,000 in cash will be awarded.

Then I thought, "Ooh, blood money--and in cash--this is going down Tijuana cock-fight style." The next line torched that possibility, but from it's flaming wreckage was born a possibility too delectable to even consider.

Enter with your verse.

Could it be? Could this be asking for bible verses contradicting evolution? Perchance to dream. Click.

Of course not. 'Twas a goddamned web poetry contest. So I did what any person in my emotional state would do, I wrote a goddamned poem. Bitter, I wrote it about evolution.

Clever, I know. I thought the nod to E.E. Cummings' bizarre and subversive indenting proclivities would give me an edge in winning this amateur . . . internet . . . poetry . . . contest. I got it all out without vomitting, that says something about my resolve.

I'm sure they got the final laugh however, as I offered up all of my vital Lukeformation without even thinking about it.

So I'll be getting adverts for Jesus' Own penis enlargement supplements any second.

I'm also now being watched by our nation's faith-based intelligence community. I can feel their holy eyes on me. Folks who know call it spiritual warfare.