I know some of you out there do this. You’ve spent so many hours asking your creationist friends to define a “kind,” or explaining why the “tornado in a junkyard” or “watchmaker” analogies are hopelessly flawed, that you’re beginning to see flagella and mousetraps in your sleep. I mean, look at poor Nick. Kid can’t even hear the word “truthiness” without having visions of IDists dancing in his head. I caught myself doing this today, too.
I listen to a lot of country music. (Yeah, yeah, go ahead and mock. I’m used to it). Couple that with 1) the fact that I live in Iowa, where there’s a *lot* of country radio, and 2) the fact that my car didn’t have a CD player, that meant lots of time on the road tuned in to a country station. As a mom (aka taxi), that means the kids also spent a lot of time listening to it–and my daughter’s favorite song of the past year was Faith Hill’s “Mississippi Girl.” So, we bought her Faith’s new CD for Christmas.
Also around Christmas, I bit the bullet and bought a minivan, complete with CD player–and of course, Faith gets heavy rotation while the daughter is in the car. (Yes, I’m getting to the point here). As a captive audience, I’m listening to the songs. In the title cut, “Fireflies,” the chorus is:
I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top
To capture Tinker Bell
And they were just fireflies to the untrained eye
But I could always tell
So, of course, I think, “huh, kinda like ID.” I wonder when she’ll be publishing the methods of her “Tinkerbell explanatory filter?”
Sad, I know. I really need to get out more. But how fitting that the next line in the song is, “’cause I believe in fairy tales…”