Designed By God
If we are to believe the words of many Intelligent Design supporters (formerly Creationists (soon-to-be Intelligent Evolutionists (never-to-be Actual Scientists))) then evolution exists but it’s far too complex to have just simply evolved into said complexity and must have been designed to simply look complex so as to, er, cause arguments because, ahm, it’s fun to annoy scientific people yes? By redefining science to shift away from an observable and measurable basis and towards a "things I thought when I hit my head on the coffee table" basis it is possible for anyone – especially religious anyones who would otherwise struggle to hold down jobs – to label themselves "a scientician", receive funding, write books, and appear on lecture circuits, thereupon to be beswooned by easily-starstruck fundamentalists and power-hungry, small-dicked (sufferers of tiniwilli, to give it the specific medical term) politicians. Now, proceed to ask an IDiot to speculate what we will evolve into and you’ll undoubtedly run into a problem area for these "brains". You see: either we have now stopped evolving because we are the ultimate goal, the pinnacle of achievement, the perfect beings, or there’s still some growing to do. They would have us believe that far from being merely an adequate form for this environment at this time, we have instead been manipulated through the aeons at a level far too complicated to require proof and we are either the end result or another link on the path to the ultimate prize. Which leads to more questions: if we’re the ultimate goal then what took the definitely-not-God, oh-no creator so long to reach this point? Couldn’t He or She (just kidding: it’s He) have taken some shortcuts? Couldn’t we have jumped from shrews straight to Homo sapiens or are chimpanzees needed for testing cigarettes? Were the dinosaurs all killed off just so we could run cars because, if not, then it seems pretty cruel to wipe them all out and a significant waste of time in the scheme of things? What happens now that we’ve become perfect and how can you measure it happening since this is a sciency thing after all? If we’re not the ultimate goal then how do – ooh, let’s pick a religion at random here – Christians feel about your firm belief that we and – ooh, let’s pick a name from history at random here – Jesus are not in God’s image, unless God Himself isn’t actually perfect or God was created by the not-God creator as well? The answer to all those questions is simply: Darwin’s theory of evolution can’t explain everything and my dad is bigger than...
Jack Abramoff, George W. Bush Photos
The American political blogging world is sparkling and twinkling with the news that admitted felon and Republican lobbyist Jack Abramoff has not only had a fairly close relationship with as-yet-unindicted President George W. Bush over the past few years (despite White House attempts to downplay any such "accidental" meetings) but there are also photographs to prove it. Time magazine has seen the photos but can’t publish them and the tabloids are desperate to get their hands on them too but neOnbubble is proud to scoop the lot of the them with this world exclusive publication. Bush interrupts CENTCOM vs. NATO Doom 3 LAN party to present stolen wedding cake to Jack Abramoff. The President’s thumb in the icing appears to distress the lobbyist. Jack Abramoff and President Bush make a daring daylight raid for cake, this time swiping from the top table during the Air Force Cadets’ Passing Out Parade. Posing for a photograph is the least they can do after Bush and Abramoff clean local Washington D.C. patisserie out of cake. Abramoff is wearing his Indoor Fedora...
Donating Blood
I’m a blood donor. Three times a year I pop along to a church hall nearby and offer up one eighth of my red, life-maintaining fluid potentially to be used by complete strangers who quite likely don’t even deserve it. In return I receive nothing but satisfaction in knowing that "the boy done good" and a temporary susceptibility to get drunk really quickly that simply cannot be beat. I also know – because my blood is tested for all the numerous diseases de jour such as the ones you get from eating the cow brains and the ones you get from engaging in the naughty sex and the ones you get from shaking hands with someone who recently went on holiday to the Congo – that my blood is free from nasty bacteria and virii and other such tiny things. My kidney may be the receptacle for an alien probe that tracks my position and listens into my thoughts but my blood is as clean as the proverbial whistle. The blood service (of whichever country you reside in) needs you! Yes, your blood is very nearly almost as valuable as mine to the blood banks. Without blood the hospitals would have to take every motorcycle rider who thought the rules of the road allowed him or her to undertake on the motorway and ended up getting rightly knocked onto the hard shoulder and wrapped around an emergency phonebox, fold them in two, and trash-compact them rather than restore their blood levels to normal and patch them together again. More importantly, without blood vampires would have to switch to ketchup and there’d be a shortage with understandable riots to follow. So, what can you expect if you’ve never given blood before and have wondered just what goes on? Well, I can’t guarantee the same process occurs in other countries because they tend to be run by foreigners but here in the land we like to call Eng the procedure for donating blood is as follows: 1. Turn Up Turning up at the blood donation venue is extremely important, perhaps even the most important part of blood donation after not being a silicon-based lifeform. If the blood donor centre is an old church hall/gymnasium such as the one I attend then you will be instantly assaulted by the smell that decades of sweat inside rubber-based shoewear leaves to haunt buildings. Mustiness prevails and the effect isn’t helped by the high proportion of the elderly who either take over the venue when there’s no blood-letting taking place or are "helping out" in some fashion, pretending to work there so they can steal...
My First God
tOybubble, a subsidiary of neOnbubble, and parent company to dOllbubble, also trading as cOllectibubble are pleased to announce their latest range of exclusive action figures and associated collectible merchandising for the 2006 season. Introducing: My First God™ Hard work, intelligence, and aptitude will only get you so far in life. These days if you want to get ahead then you need to inject some religion into your veins but with so many to choose from it can be difficult selecting the one that gives you a heavenly high and puts you on the fast track to political or corporate success from the very many that will react badly, send you into a seizure, get you labelled as a terrorist and cause you to be made to quietly disappear in the middle of the night. tOybubble doesn’t have the solution to this problem – we’re only manufacturers of fine collectible figurines and distributors of top quality merchandising after all! – but that doesn’t mean we can’t muddy the waters still further and cash in on a loosely-connected issue! It’s what our stockholders would want! The My First God™ range of figures and trading cards expands on all the various deities and religious beliefs we know and pretend to accept and introduces us to a wide new world of exciting and interesting Gods and Devils. Grouped together under Cults such as "Rock Gods" and "Divine Baldies" for example, the collectible nature of My First God™ is enhanced by competitive rivalry that pits religious group against religious group in a bloody crusade of intolerance just like in real life. Collect from one sect or from all just to be safe; the choice is yours! When something good happens you can be sure that your little My First God™s were responsible for the miracle. When something bad happens then you know that it was all your own fault or someone else’s religion is to blame and a swift smiting should be the order of the day. No matter what happens, though, you’ll want to keep your fantastic new deities close to hand at all times as a sign of devotion. If your My First God™ doesn’t rise in value year on year then you aren’t praying hard enough! Starting in March we’ll be releasing the first series of action figures. Highlights of this amazing range are sure to include: Cult: Fruitism, The Vitamin-Rich Religion. Action Figure: Archangel Granny Smith – Guardian of the Temple of Applelympos. Granny Smith, beautiful and terrifying if you are both attracted to and repelled by old people as you should, resplendent in her Holy Cardigan, protector of the...
Let’s Get Depressed
Well, I had a thoroughly awful so-called-festive-my-arse period, thankyou very much. Yes, there’s nothing quite like crying and pleading with your cat to get better and knowing all the time that it’s not happening and watching as he loses his appetite, then his bowel control, then the use of his back legs; staring into his eyes as he stares vacantly back, and reluctantly calling the vet to do what you know has to be done, you know is the best thing for him, and you know you’re going to beat yourself up about for days afterwards convincing yourself you killed him. I’d recommend that experience to anyone. Still, how are you? That’s great. But enough of the depressing reality of the past few weeks; we have the depressing fantasy of the future to look forward to and what could start the year after a loved pet’s death better than a quick rundown of movies almost very nearly guaranteed to make you cry? Or me cry, to be more accurate. Yes, I’m a man but I’ve got tearducts and I’m not afraid to use them. But wait! There’s more! For added bonus gratis entertainment why not try some of the movie trivia questions I’ve dotted around this post as well? That’s a $29.99 value extra absolutely free! Star Trek 2: The Wrath Of Khan Widely regarded by me (as I’m fairly wide (but New Year’s Resolution etc.)) as the best Star Trek movie thanks to its perfect mix of action, humour, plus-four trousers, Kirstie Alley quotient, A Flock Of Seagulls turbolift music, and baddie who looks like Zelda from Terrahawks, this particular big screen outing from the cast of the original Star Trek series sees Captain Kirk realise that actions have consequences in the form of a son via promiscuous sexual naughtiness who doesn’t know him and a once-beaten foe who’ll stop at nothing to wreak his (w)revenge in a wrathful way. The film throws death and despair our way at several opportunities but many miss the mark of hitting the heartstrings and instead impact harmlessly on the top edge of the colon. For example, the silver-suited burns victim who "stayed at his post while the trainees ran" could have presented the now also-dead James Doohan (Oh God! Why do the obese die so young! Curse you God!) with a great opportunity to invoke torrents of grief but the fact that the engineering chief thought that carrying a crispy and bloody mess to the bridge was a better idea than taking him straight to see the doctor or Major Maudlin in charge of the makeshift morgue more-or-less ruins the moment....
Ear Mite Christmas
‘Twas the week before Christmas, When all ‘cross the site Not an author was posting, Not even Herbert the typewriting ear mite Who had been employed specifically to keep updates coming while the owner was otherwise distracted with Christmas parties and a metric ton of work and who was also instructed to ensure that any poetry scanned correctly and rhymed and I’m going out on a limb here when I say it’s pretty clear he’s neglecting those duties too. I don’t like freeloaders. Students? Confine them all in a warehouse and make them power turbines with their body heat and angst! Children? Send them down the mines to find pretty jewels for Gems TV! Ear mites? Ear mites! Bloody ear mites! Still, it’s Christmas; it’s a little chillier (in this hemisphere), the shops are full-to-bursting with single mothers trying to lift presents for their multitudinous offspring, cats are eating tinsel and throwing up on the sofa. All the elements that should make me angrier and yet … there’s something magical in the air. Carbon monoxide poisoning and grannies doused in lavender if I had to hazard a guess but whatever it is it just makes people a little bit cheerier, a tad more tolerant, and a smidgeon less likely to ice pick strangers and I’m no exception. And so I just couldn’t turf out poor, unreliable Herbert; not without looking into some alternative employment for something with his expertise anyway. It’s what little baby Santa would want. So do not shed a tear as you wonder whether a homeless ear mite might be shivering alone into a crab-shaped ice cube under some tramp-soiled mistletoe in some dark alley during this yuletide because I have found Herbert a new home. Greetings Card Slogan Writer I first employed that no-good, workshy excuse of an ear mite when I saw some of the fantastic anecdotes he’d scratched into the inner surface of my cat’s ear as he wandered around spreading infection and causing my huge silver tabby to lapse into manic scratching fits while sitting on my lap and digging his claws into my genitals for leverage. That, I thought, is one smart otodectes cynotis. And that, I thought, is one punctured testicle leaking blood into my thigh. And aha! I mentally exclaimed as an afterthought, I shall solve my scrotal suffrage problem and alleviate the upcoming quiet period of posting on my page o’ web by employing said ear mite to entertain both of my regular readers! So it came to pass that I registered as a public limited company with an employee count of one. Sadly, I was too busy...
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