Yesterday, in a unanimous 7-0 vote, the Georgia State Supreme Court threw out our hate-crime law, decreeing it "too vague." Georgia now takes its rightful place among the thimbleful of states without hate-crime legislation (46 states presently have such laws, in some form). Next week, or so I understand, large, inviting signs will be posted at the state line, We're Glad Georgia's on Your Mind. Violent Bigots Welcome!.
The new National Geographic came yesterday, and it contains a superb piece on evolutionary theory. The cover will be misleading, especially to those creationists always desperately looking for some mainstream media acceptance. The question "Was Darwin Wrong?" floats suggestively above the head of an Hispaniolan twig anole. Turn to page two, and the question is repeated, this time superimposed over a photograph of one of Charles Darwin's beloved pigeons. Turn the page again, however, and the question is answered: No. The Evidence for Evolution is Overwhelming. Thank you, National Georgraphic, for having a backbone. There are plenty enough invertebrates in the world. But there is disturbing stuff in this article, such as the following:
According to a Gallup poll drawn from more than a thousand telephone interviews conducted in February 2001, no less than 45 percent of responding U.S. adults agreed that "God created human beings pretty much in their present form at one time within the last 10,000 years or so." ... Only 37 percent of the polled Americans were satisfied with allowing room for both God and Darwin—that is, divine initiative to get things started, evolution as the creative means. (This view, according to more than one papal pronouncement, is compatible with Roman Catholic dogma.) Still fewer Americans, only 12 percent, believed that humans evolved from other life-forms without any involvement of a god.
And, of course, the world is flat. And the stars are pinholes in the velvet dome of Heaven. And the Apollo moon landings were a hoax. And babies come from cabbage patches. And Santa Claus brings Xmas presents from his candy-cane house at the North Pole. And Iraq was hiding WMDs. And, in case you were wondering, George W. Bush is a Really Good Man.
Round and round and round, kiddos. Round and round and round.
My head hurts. My stomach is sour.
Last night, we finally watched Supersize Me, and while it wasn't quite as horrifying as I'd expected, it did make me glad that I've only eaten food from McDonalds three times in the last two years.
Later, I read T. S. Eliot aloud to Spooky. "The Dry Salvages" (Eliot's poem, not my story) never ceases to amaze me. It's one of the most eloquent discourses on time and the human mind that I have yet to read (though it's best read in context with the other three poems of Four Quartets).
Tonight, Spooky and I are going to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens to see the Dale Chihuly exhibit.
My thanks to Poppy for the things she said in her LJ yesterday about brilliance and writing and so forth. Damn straight.
Oh, and I know I said that I'd post more thoughts on Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars after seeing the whole mini again on Sunday afternoon, but, in truth, I think I've already said most of what I have to say. Seeing it again served more in strengthen previous conclusions than to change them. The first half is too rushed. The second half is beautiful and brilliant, and I am grateful for it. I wish they hadn't changed Sikozu and Jothee. I wished the Scarrans hadn't been blue. I wish they'd left Chiana's wig alone. I will say that, the second time through, I cried at D'Argo's death. I didn't cry the first time. I don't think it felt real the first time. I also cried at the ending, when Aeryn and John took the baby up to behold his "playground." It was the sort of darkly hopeful ending that the series warranted. The strong anti-war statement was appropriate. It was fitting. I am pleased.