Lest We Forget — Ramu Natu

Tribal dance

Inspired by some comments in a recent thread, and in the absence of any news from our global sweeps, we depart from this humble blog’s usual subject matter to write about a claim we often hear from creationists — evolution is a wicked religion that competes with theirs. Okay, dear reader, let’s play with that.

Let your imagination wander back — way back — to an early tribe of the first humans from which we all descend. It is night in the forest. The camp fire flickers brightly and the drums beat rhythmically. Just outside the gathering, the tribe’s newly-domesticated dogs keep vigil, occasionally howling at the Moon.

The men are repeatedly chanting: Ramu Natu … Ramu Natu … Ramu Natu! That’s their name for RAndom MUtation and NATUural selection — the unseen forces primarily responsible for their existence.

The females are dancing erotically to the beat of the drums and the chanting of the males. Overhead, perched in the branches, ape-like creatures chatter while they gaze uncomprehendingly at the sight, bewildered by the antics of their distant cousins who long ago gave up the paradise of life in the trees in order to pursue a harsh, challenging, two-legged existence on the ground.

Then, suddenly, the drums and the chanting stop. The dogs and the apes fall silent as, illuminated by the firelight, the human males embrace the females. All that can be heard are cries of ecstasy as the ritual reaches its finale. Hold that memory in your mind, dear reader, because we are the result of that long ago night.

So, are the creationist right? Is evolution just another religion? Like our distant cousins in the trees, let them think what they want, as best they can. We know better. Humans have had numerous deities, known by a great variety of names, but we should never forget Ramu Natu, the origin of us all.

Copyright © 2015. The Sensuous Curmudgeon. All rights reserved.

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17 responses to “Lest We Forget — Ramu Natu

  1. So wait, there are women at the end of this ritual? Sign me up!!

  2. Praise Ramu Natu! Smile!

  3. I curse Ramu Natu for he hath forsaken me thine dancing gene.

  4. This post doesn’t portray the good old days in the quite same terms as the re-constructionists would have us all believe.

    Your description seems to be considerably more reasonable.

  5. One paragraph of your fine documentary appears to have been truncated; permit me to restore the missing portion (in bold), viz.:

    Overhead, perched in the branches, ape-like creatures chatter while they gaze uncomprehendingly at the sight, bewildered by the antics of their distant cousins who long ago gave up the paradise of life in the trees in order to pursue a harsh, challenging, two-legged existence on the ground. Enraged, the ape-like creatures flung some poo at their evolved cousins before slinking back into the forest in the direction of distant lands that would later be Louisiana, Kentucky, and Seattle.

  6. Eeeek! Those darn html tag thingies done played me up agin!

    [*Voice from above*] Your heart is pure, but your fingers are not yet evolved.

  7. Doctor Stochastic

  8. docbill1351

    Awah Tagoo Siam!

  9. I think they were the Fugahwee tribe.

  10. The story of Ramu Natu is certainly more believable than the book of Mormon. (The actual book). OTOH, the musical “The Book of Mormon” is quite believable – and entertaining, too!

  11. @Hideo Gump
    I assume that Mormons read the Book of Mormon with as much care and attention as fundamentalists devote to the Bible. They have some stories they remember from their childhood and let those stories play over in their head as their eyes pass over the printed page. How else could they survive the experience?

  12. @TomS
    You could be right. Or maybe Mormons don’t read their book carefully until they go out on their “missions” and only then discover what it says as they try reading it to prospective converts. If so, the musical Book of Mormon would be even more realistic than I thought.

  13. …RAndum MUtation and NATUural selection…

    As Google would ask, “Did you mean Random?”

  14. retiredsciguy asks:

    As Google would ask, “Did you mean Random?”


  15. “The females are dancing erotically”
    Looks more like worshipping RaMu SeSe – with which I’m also totally OK.

  16. Dave Luckett

    Now, now, Curmy, the creationists never said the religion of Evilooshunism was ancient, did they?

    No, they say that it’s a late form of paganism, with some devil-worship thrown in.

    More like:

    “There are no beating drums in a great English baronial hall except the ones to catch the drips, but the hooded and robed acolytes beat time against their chests, stamping on the oaken floor, a thudding, percussive underlay to their chant: “natural… selection… natural… selection.” It is said that the ritual slapping and stamping had its origin in the mystic English gestures which mean “no central heating”, but the meaning had, er, evolved… no, no! I mean “warped”… far beyond that innocent source. Now it was full of menace, vileness, despair. The two lines of devotees advanced at the sodden, plodding pace of British summer rain, until they reached the dias at the end. There they halted, inflated their chests, and an inhuman screeching wail went up, like unto a banshee under the killing moon, or the Arts Council on hearing of a budget cut.

    The mists around the dias parted, as sometimes happens in English baronial halls. As one, the devotees turned in their lines towards the impassive robed figure now revealed, seated on the high throne. They prostrated themselves as it rose, tall and menacing, garbed exactly as they were, save that its vestments were of a dark, bloody crimson.

    The figure reached up white hands to pull back the ensanguined hood, revealing a countenance heavy of brow and bulldog of jaw, with a flowing beard that reached the deep chest. The prostrate congregation gasped and writhed in adoration. This was not merely the Prophet Huxley, nor one of the lesser clergy, Archbishop Fisher, Saint Stephen the Punctuated, Dobszhansky the Orthodox, no, no, not even Lensky Coliatrix. The ritual had penetrated to the highest mysteries and Summoned the Messiah Himself!

    Some gave way to ecstacy, babbling in tongues, beating their heads on the floor, groaning, screaming, rapturous in adoration. But the hands of the apparition merely gestured for silence, and into the stillness that descended, that great voice echoed from the oaken panelling, the hammer-beamed vault. The sacred words of the Urtext, from the Book of the Origins: “When on board H.M.S. ‘Beagle,’ as naturalist, I was much struck…”

    The manifestation could not long endure. The higher mysteries are not durable on this plane, or baronial hall, as the case may be. The Voice enthralled them, sublimated them, held them in rapture for a space. Then came the final words: “Forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been and are being…. evolved”.

    He had missed a bit, but no matter. The voice diminished. The vision faded. The rapture declined, and with its departure, the great hall was once again as English great halls have been since time out of mind: dark, cold, and slightly smelly. The acolytes arose and shook out their robes. Then as one, they spoke the ritual phrases of British leave-taking, “Well, I’m off”, and its antiphon: “Fancy a pint?”

    But they would be back. Evensong was nothing to this!”

    Something like that, anyway.

  17. Holding The Line In Florida

    @ Dave Luckett, Fantastic. Exactly as I would have imagined it. The scene lit in candlelight. The flickering lights cast shadows on the wall, add the High Priestess, the Sacred Olivia expounding the mysteries of Sexual Selection and all is complete!