Dear Casey Luskin…

Proof of Design

Proof of Design

C/O Discovery Institute:  208 Columbia St., Seattle, WA 98104

Dear Casey,

  I got your postcard, asking that I radically alter the nature of reality, and I must say – I don’t know which of us is more confused.  Did you want Me to choose one new reality from your list, make one up on My own or just make all of your hypotheses true simultaneously?  And why do you say you have no hypotheses… at the end of your list of hypotheses?  I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no living-thingologist, but then, who needs to be, right?

  By the way, have you ever noticed how, if you say something over and over, (hypotheses, hypothesis, hypotheses, hypothesis…), after a while the word becomes meaningless?  That’s how We got My youngest, Hippie Jesus, to go through with His Deity Club initiation, (crucifixion, crucifixion, crucifixion…).  Try it sometime.  It’s also a good last-ditch conversation starter at parties.

  Anyway, at the risk of having you call Me a “country club Gawd”, I think I’m going to pass on the whole alter-the-nature-of-reality thing.  As fun as it might be to fool around with evolution or to make aliens the designers of mankind, I can just play Spore without interrupting My vacation.  I’m in the middle of touring all of the “Gawd Themeparks” I can find right now and I’m sure that magicking science fiction into science fact would cut into time I could be getting My ass kissed by the ignorant.  Besides, I’ve run into you IDists before, or, as I understand you prefer– IDiots, and it’s been My experience that you just keep asking more and more of Me.  You start with “Golly, eyeballs sure are complicated,” and end up with “Gawd says I should be king and you don’t get a vote.”

  Imagine how that would shtup-up My vacationing.  Off the top of My head, I’d bet that if you IDiots were in charge, you would expect Me to write all the science books, choose all the educational faculty and make all the comic awards credible.  Not only does that sound too much like work, it would only be a matter of time before you social conservatives took over the world and made titty-bars illegal.  Then what would I do on long layovers?  No, I definitely don’t like the way your scenario evolves.

  Oh, and another thing.  Quit telling people we’re pals.  That’s just creepy.  Really; if you want to see a Gawd-shaped-hole, just keep shamelessly name-dropping.  I won’t interrupt My vacation to pull a Harry Potter on reality, but if I have to I’ll get My lawyers, (attorneys in good standing in the state of California), to give you a good scare if you keep referencing a relationship that doesn’t exist.

Wish You Were Here,



2 responses to “Dear Casey Luskin…

  1. Boy, that Casey is definitely a… case. Though I’m not sure of what.

    You know what’s kind of funny, though? “Evolution Awareness”. Like it’s some kind of critical illness. Ha!

  2. Well, sure. If one is aware of, say, cancerous growths in their buttocks, then one can order their life accordingly. Chemotherapy, heart-felt postcards to Gawd, butt-amputation insurance, etc.

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