Seems like a good way to wrap up the week’s blogging. So here’s my poem, with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe:
Once upon a bleak December, back in Kansas I remember
P’rusing vapid, foolish volumes of bombastic ID lore
While I sat there calmly reading, musing over creo pleading
Suddenly my eyes were bleeding and my head became quite sore
“Who,” I cried, “will face this rot and vanquish it forevermore?”
“I need a hero, nothing more.”
Hopeless seemed the situation, causing morbid contemplation
Of all the theocratic evil that the creos had in store
The Gods themselves as I recall, toil in vain against the crawl,
Of relentless folderal and the dumbth the fools adore.
The creeping, fetid ignorance marching nigh upon the moor.
The masses crying, “Give me more!”
Shortly then my eyes grew leaden, my head’s ache did slowly deaden
As slumber’s mercy overtook me and my nose did start to snore.
REM sleep came and with it dreaming, my subconscious playful-seeming
Showing me a world a’gleaming with light and sense and dumbth no more.
And a bearded, squidded maven to let me through the waiting door.
Twas the Myers, nothing more.
Before his greatness I seemed an oafa, sitting there upon his sofa
Braying long and hard of all the creo crap I must endure
“What about those beavers necks? They’re irreducibly complex!
Explain the origin of sex, but if you do I’ll unload more!
Make them stop, O bearded maven, unleash the squiddy I implore!”
The Myers smiled, nothing more.
“And where on Earth are the transitionals? The semi-mammals, semi-fishionals?
That Darwin said did litter seabeds on some ancient Cambrian shore?
If even some of what they say is true, then evolution’s so much poo
Promoted by the scientists who have for too long had ten-ure.
Have I been duped by scientists who have for too long had ten-ure?”
Yawned the Myers, “What a bore.”
His piercing eyes did then assess me, he reached out his hands as if to bless me
I noted the rumpled academic look of all the clothing that he wore.
He peered upon my haunted face his look betraying not a trace
Of all the fears he’d soon erase by his words that would outpour.
A torrent of such total sense that ignorance would breathe no more.
From his maw did words outpour!
“Everything the creos say is wrong in every single way,
You’ll search in vain for even a glimmer of light from ‘neath their door.
The facts they always misrepresent, their credibility is spent
For all their talk they seem hell-bent on shooting their foot into the floor.
And the misquotations, oy! Their conduct decent folks deplore.
They’re lying jerks and nothing more.”
Suddenly there came a pounding as of people bent on hounding
Decent folks who wanted to be left alone and nothing more.
Just outside the creo army, zombie-faced yet somehow smarmy
Clearly planning massive harmy, to me and Myers forever more.
Eager to leave the Myers lying in nasty pools of blood and gore.
Between us and them a flimsy door.
“We must flee!” I whinnied, like a horse, “from the overwhelming force
possessed by those who arm themselves with ignorance and nothing more!
None can fight those vicious liars, burning science in their pyres!”
Yet through it all the beaming Myers their senseless pounding he ignored.
Does he plan to fight those armed with ignorance and nothing more?
Quoth the Myers, “Hit the floor!”
From his eyes came laser beams, his muscles grew and burst his seams,
Much like Lou Ferrigno from that TV show in days of yore.
Lightning bolts shot from his hands, squids obeyed all his commands
Just moments later no creo stands, the Myers grinning, wanting more.
A display of power, might and truth as none had ever seen before.
Quoth the Myers, “Fear no more.”
And then the image slowly faded, awake once more but far less jaded
Now convinced the light of reason could be made to shine once more.
With the Myers on our side, the creos have no place to hide
Foolishness he won’t abide, and he is armed with facts galore.
And so I send this birthday wish. Only this and nothing more.
Happy day, and many more.