Heaven's Snoogle-Fleejer, Hell's Ying Yang

Big news in America last night: Sasha and Malia Obama are getting a puppy! Only time will tell if Obama follows in John Adams' footsteps and names his dog Satan. I was looking at the wikipedia article about presidential pets - totally fascinating.

My favorite: Jimmy Carter's cat, Misty Malarky Ying Yang, seen here with his daughter, Amy.



Also, did you know that in 1995 Jimmy and Amy Carter collaborated on a childrens' book together called The Little Baby Snoogle-Fleejer? Now you do.


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In other exciting news, walking home from class yesterday some old men from a fundamentalist church handed me two exciting documents! The first was everyone's favorite family newspaper, End Times, which, apparently, proves Richard Dawkins wrong about the theory of evolution. You see, in 2005 Dawkins said in a lecture that he believes everything in the universe is the product of Darwinian natural selection, but he technically can't prove it. Why? For starters I'm going to guess that cataloging everything that ever existed in the universe and proving it's origin is a bit ambitious, but what do I know?
The End Times contrasts this with a letter that Dawkins sent to his daughter on her tenth birthday.
(I'm going to give that a second to sink in)


In the letter Dawkins tells his ten-year-old daughter:

"Next time somebody tells you something that sounds important, think to yourself: 'Is this the kind of thing people probably know because of evidence? Or is it the kind of thing that people only believe because of tradition, authority or revelation?' And next time somebody tells you that something is true, why not say to them: 'What kind of evidence is there for that?"

Ah-ha! Caught in your own snare, Dawkins! (On a side note, that's a pretty heady message for a ten-year-old, isn't it?)

The other wonderful pamphlet I was handed was an invitation to see the Christian theatrical guilt-o-rama Heaven's Gates, Hell's Flames next Sunday. If you haven't heard of it before, HGHF is basically a live Chick tract where people die in the middle of overwrought sin scenarios (gay drug abortions! prostitute Eucharist smashings! I actually don't know the particulars 'cuz I haven't seen it) and proceed to St. Peter's to be judged accordingly. I'll let this youtube clip do the rest of the talking. Either way, I'm totally psyched about going. Now I just need to find an Irish friend who appreciates irony. "Right on, baby! I hear this is Snake territory!"



"Joey you can't die! I didn't tell you about Jesus!" Here's a full trailer for more sweet, sweet madness.