There has been an awful lot of heavy IPE material to work through on the blog this week - we're clearly in need of a break. A guilty pleasure to ease the mind, perhaps. Now let me think: what would be an easy target to poke fun of.... ah yes: creationism.
I'll turn things over to A. A. Gill, via the February edition of Vanity Fair. Gill visits the creationist museum in Kentucky and proceeds to dismantle it in short, choppy sentences. A sample:
What is truly awe-inspiring about the museum is the task it sets itself: to rationalize a story, written 3,000 years ago, without allowing for any metaphoric or symbolic wiggle room. There’s no poetic license. This is a no-parable zone. It starts with the definitive answer, and all the questions have to be made to fit under it. That’s tough. Science has it a whole lot easier: It can change things. It can expand and hypothesize and tinker. Scientists have all this cool equipment and stuff. They’ve got all these “lenses” and things. They can see shit that’s invisible. And they stayed on at school past 14.
A nuanced discussion, this ain't. Enjoy!
