HAVING seen so many references to creationists’ evidence against evolution, but being always frustrated at the vagueness of such claims, your Curmudgeon decided to take desperate measures.
So we went to Seattle, disguised to pass ourselves off as a creationist. We hadn’t bathed, and we had a temporary Botox treatment to keep our eyes wide open, simulating a vacant stare. A mouthpiece was installed to give us a slack-jawed appearance.
We taxied to a certain think tank, talked our way past a guard, entered, and then proceeded to convince one of their operatives that we were a creationist seeking evidence of intelligent design. Our ruse succeeded beyond our wildest dreams.
Blindfolded, we were driven to the outskirts of Seattle, and arrived at a secret location. Our blindfold removed, we found ourselves being escorted into an unmarked warehouse. “This is it,” said our guide. “Area 69 — it’s where we keep our proof that Darwinism is false.”
Once inside, we paused before a door, which our guide unlocked. We entered an empty room. “What’s this?” your Curmudgeon asked.
“Transitional fossils. As you can see, there aren’t any,” said our guide.
Nodding, we were escorted out of the room, watched as our guide carefully locked the door behind us, and we went down the hall to the next door. Same routine — the door was unlocked and we went inside.
Slowly we gazed at pictures covering all four walls. They were of World War II atrocity scenes, along with photos of Hitler and Stalin. “All Darwin’s fault,” our guide intoned.
The next room had illustrations of Piltdown Man and Nebraska Man on the walls. “Darwinist frauds,” said our guide. “This is the so-called proof of their theory. They have no shame!”
On to the next room. The walls were covered with promotional material for Ben Stein’s “Expelled.” A pile of CDs was on a table. “Take one,” said our guide. “Very powerful evidence.” We slipped one into our pocket.
The next room had a huge bin of variously colored marbles. Your Curmudgeon stared at them, wondering. “Those represent atoms,” explained the guide. “The red ones are carbon, blue are hydrogen, green is for nitrogen, and so on. We have millions of those marbles here. If you like, we can blindfold you again, and then we’ll see how long it takes you to assemble a strand of DNA.”
“That’s impossible!” we declared.
“Exactly!” said our guide.
Then we were taken through the rest of the locked rooms, one at a time. We saw a picture of an eye, below which was an excerpt from Darwin asking how such a thing could have evolved. We saw a picture of a bacterium with a flagellum — “Obviously designed,” said our guide. There was a model of Noah’s Ark, a drawing of men riding dinosaurs, a cage full of Galapagos finches — “After all these years, they’re still finches!” — said the guide, and finally we saw a painting of Darwin on his deathbed, recanting all his works and begging to be forgiven.
“So there it is!” said our guide, as we emerged from the warehouse. “That’s the proof of intelligent design.” All your Curmudgeon could say in response was: “Yes, it’s all so very clear.”
Then we were blindfolded again for the return trip to downtown Seattle. We rode in silence. Near the journey’s end your Curmudgeon asked: “Why do you keep all of this evidence concealed?”
“The world isn’t ready yet,” our guide said. “The Darwinists would destroy it. But our time will come. And it will be soon.”
Copyright © 2009. The Sensuous Curmudgeon. All rights reserved.