Due to the holiday lull in news of The Controversy between evolution and creationism, we offer you some Curmudgeonly poetry, as a prelude to an Intellectual Free Fire Zone:
‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve, and all through the galaxy,
Not a website was stirring, not even a fallacy.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that something blog-worthy soon would be there.
The Dobies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of doggie bones danced in their heads;
Then from the Drool-o-tron™ there arose such a clatter,
I dashed to the control room to see what was the matter.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Ark, and eight tiny crocoducks — how queer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it was someone quite sick.
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now Hambo, now Piltdown, now Casey and Designer!
On Klingo, on Westie, on Chappie and Quote-miner,
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
So up to the house-top the crocoducks they flew,
With an Arkload of lunacy and their driver too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little spoof.
As I got to the control room and was looking around,
Down the chimney he came with a bound.
He was dressed all in monkey fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of coprolites he had flung on his back,
And he looked like an idiot opening his pack.
He was chubby and plump, a creepy old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know he was crazed in the head;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, with a creationist smirk,
Then laying his finger aside of his nose,
He blew it out on the floor, and up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his Ark, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like an out of control missile,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Darwin lied to you all, and to all a good-night.”
Copyright © 2013. The Sensuous Curmudgeon. All rights reserved.