About seven months ago we wrote #986: The Worst Ever? It was bad, but back then we had no idea what we’d find today.
Today’s letter-to-the-editor appears in Taft Midway Driller of Taft, California. Wikipedia says the town was previously named Moron (which explains a lot), Moro, and Siding Number Two. They also say that “Taft is situated in a major petroleum and natural gas production region in California,” which probably explains the newspaper’s name.
The letter is titled Blind appointment of time, and the newspaper has no comments feature.
Because the writer isn’t a politician, preacher, or other public figure, we won’t embarrass or promote her by using her full name. Her first name is Kae. Excerpts from her letter will be enhanced with our Curmudgeonly commentary, some bold font for emphasis, and occasional Curmudgeonly interjections that look [like this]. Here we go!
A blind appointment of time is where the most relished of moments considers only the wayward solace of dreams that determines our place in the moment and the actuality of today, and of that fantasy called yesterday, where the future resides in the fragment of memories called truth, which is the greatest of all chimeras, and further, the abstruse sleight of hand we call history.
That massive, impenetrable, multi-syllabic ark-load of gibberish is only the first sentence! The whole letter is like that, and it’s not a brief letter. What we’re going to do is skip a lot of it, and pluck out only the parts that are obviously creationist. For example:
But bring up nature versus nurture in the formation of human character and you immediately run into an argument as contentious as the origins of mankind that creationists find in the god sent writing of their various faiths, and secular scholars in the pages of Darwin’s Origin of Species. One will never agree with the other because faith is indigent [Indigent?] to each, and faith is the core and structure of life itself.
That was bad, but there’s more of the same quality. For example:
But there is the unusual but not uncommon but disquieting disruption in all this nice tidiness which throws everything in disarray [Wow!], a dissimilarity of variation behind a doubt as to what is or is not inherited from our forbears, and what our culture impinges on us, modifying the outcome.
That “unusual but not uncommon but disquieting” mess was one sentence! Then she says:
One begins to suspect that evolution is wholly dependent on such alterable outcomes of existence in order that what is most functional becomes the most relevant, and that you can’t have the one without the other.
Don’t deny it, dear reader. You’re impressed! That’s why you’ll be sorry to know that we’ve come to the end of Kae’s letter, which is:
Evolution thus becomes technology, and where technology – before it and evolution were concepts or words – was suggestively predicted by Michelangelo’s painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome of the finger of man not reaching out and touching god’s. but god’s reaching out and touching man’s.
If you’re wondering how in the world that pile of poo ever got published, remember that the newspaper is located in a town that was once named “Moron.” Suddenly, it all starts to make sense.
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