If Noah only brought two of every animal on the ark, the inbreeding would result in genetic diversity catastrophe and mass extinction.
DNA didn’t just magically appear when Watson, Crick, and their lab technicians saw its shadow and declared 6 more weeks of scientific discovery.
If God doesn’t miracle up solutions for zoos searching for breeding partners for their animals now, why would he do it then?
Because, just like every other goofy story in that book which defies rational explanation and scientific basis, it’s a lie.
Suck your thumbs, humanity. Cling to your security blankets.
And never grow up.
Month: January 2019
Life is a series of televisions
We started with a simple black and white tube television, maybe a foot across.
Then, we got a color television.
After that, a bigger one. With stereo.
The first television I had on my own was really a VCR with a computer color monitor.
But after that, I got a nice one with a big picture tube.
And when it was stolen, a bigger one.
I moved around a bit, and settled in with my wife’s television.
Until we bought a new one. Then a flat panel.
Which is in front of the treadmill, replaced by yet another flat panel.
Rock Bottom
When you hit rock bottom
We were there for you
And when you clawed your way back up
Out of that hole
We didn’t mind
That your nails
Dug deep into our flesh
Drawing blood
It hurt
But
What’s pain, anyway?
Anything to help you
Get out of the darkness
And back on your feet
When you finally
Got back on your feet
The first thing you did
Was kick us all in the balls
And the teeth
And walk off
Tall and
Proud?
Next time
We just send
Thoughts and prayers
They’re free
And easy
and meaningless
Like you
Beethoven the Monster
Beethoven was a brilliant composer.
He was also an master on the piano.
Other composers tried to steal his work and pass it off as their own.
But Beethoven’s works were so hard to play, they couldn’t manage to play them.
Composers would break their fingers and fracture their wrists in the attempt.
One had such a hard time following the notes on the page, his eyes became permanently damaged.
And then there was piece which resulted in violinists spearing the piano-playing thief of a composer through the heart with their bows.
Brilliant man, Beethoven, but a total fucking sociopath.
Turkey bacon
Writers write with pen, paper, typewriters, and computers.
Some use text to speech, where they talk, and they get text.
Voice recognition is much better these days.
Forget speech to text. I want speech to bacon.
I want to be able to say “Bacon” to a machine, and have the machine print bacon.
Fully-cooked, crispy bacon.
What would you load such a machine with?
Raw bacon? Pigs?
Certainly not turkey meat, because turkey bacon is not bacon.
When I say “Bacon” I want bacon, not turkey bacon.
And when I say “Turkey Bacon” I want bacon. Because I said “Bacon.”
Weekly Challenge #663 – Irritation
Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.
This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
We’ve got stories by:
LIZZIE
Reflect and Engage
Life would never be the same. He was leaving everything behind. He wanted that, but he feared it as well.
As he approached the exit, he looked back and he saw the carnivore plants he had created and grown. They stood motionless and eerie behind the glass wall.
For a split second, he wished he could give up and go back to doing his magic and growing the most unusual plants. But he couldn’t. So, he left.
A week later, he received an urgent appeal. He had to go back. The plants, in a fit of anger, were eating everyone.
JERRY
Obsolete ideas still engage the mind.
To pounce on a new idea sometimes call for some mental gymnastics and some time to reflect.
When you engage in this sport it is required that you have a support group ready to catch you if you fail to consider all the possible consequences.
Especially those actions that could do permanent damage.
The girls had not considered what doing the hokey pokey could do to their body and mind.
Put your left foot in
Your left foot out
Your left foot in
And shake it all about
It is easier said than done.
RICHARD
New Year Resolution
‘Engage With Girls Easier!’
The strapline emblazoned across the top of the flyer immediately caught my attention.
Normally, junk mail goes straight in the bin, but my luck with girls lately had been pretty appalling, mainly due to my social ineptitude. Maybe, with the New Year, it was time to make a resolution to change.
‘Reflect on your chat up technique’, the flyer said, ‘Do you get tied up in mental gymnastics, then awkwardly pounce and scare girls off?’
Don’t cling to those obsolete practices, sign up now!
‘(Only £250 a session)’
I crumpled up the flyer… Maybe next year.
SERENDIPIDY
Girls who do gymnastics are so much more fun than regular folks.
Their general stamina and fitness keeps them going when others would give up and succumb to pain and exhaustion; and their flexibility and resilience lends itself to all sorts of interesting contortions.
Of course, when I snap your limbs at ninety degrees in the wrong direction, and twist your joints until they grind and pop, even the most accomplished gymnast is going to scream in pain.
But I like the pretty shapes they make so much…
And I think artistic impression scores far more highly, than technical ability.
TOM
My Own Private Health Plan
“Welcome to Reflect Engage your new totally immersive health plan. You can now tailor a health regiment to
JON
Higher, Faster, Stronger
By
Jon DeCles
It is an obsolete notion that females are not equal to males, but I must still reflect on the differences.
In gymnastics a female must pounce on her chance at competition because she reaches her peak of performance at an earlier age than a male. Girls must engage with the sport quickly and fiercely, and their careers may fly away when they are seventeen or eighteen.
It is easier for Boys, who can remain in top form at times until their mid-twenties.
I am hoping that will even out as athletes continue to push defiantly against the boundaries of age.
TURA
The Menunna-Qurud is the most ancient text known from the region that some thousands of years later would be called Sumer. Written in ophioglyphs believed to have been obsolete even at the time of writing, it describes either gymnastic exercises or religious devotions, or perhaps some hybrid (as evidenced in our own time by the practices the Hindoos call yoga). But they defy translation, unless one accepts Professor Challenger’s scarcely to be believed thesis, that they do not refer to the human figure, but to a loathsome and degenerate race of humanity, hybridised with monstrous creatures of the deep.
NORVAL JOE
He tried to come up with a
His father begged, “Can you convince her it was something else she saw? Maybe, that you were just practicing gymnastics.”
Billbert smiled, sheepishly. “That would be hard to do, Dad. She actually flew with me. She thought I had magic.”
“Girls?” Mr. Spankinflysher said. “They get us into so much trouble.”
PLANET Z
Romanov coached gymnastics somewhere on the other side of the Iron Curtain.Nobody’s sure of exactly where… he arrived without papers, and we’ve never figured out his accent.And he refuses to talk about his past..But what he’s able to get the girls to do, well, it’s amazing.The power, the balance, the speed, the grace, and the precision.Things beyond the capability of ordinary humans.”Just takes dedication and motivation,” says Romanov, and he claps his hands for the next routine.Did you see that? Did their eyes flash red?Nah, couldn’t be. I must be imagining things.
Thinking
He thinks too much.
Thoughts roll around in his head.
Over and over.
Always thinking, never doing.
Trapped in thought, frozen.
He calls them the echoes.
Thoughts echoing in his head.
Things that have happened.
Things that might happen.
Things that never happened. But should have.
He’s just sitting there, thinking.
What are you thinking about?
Why are you thinking about it?
What are you going to do about it?
Think some more.
And then some more.
Keep thinking about it.
Over and over.
When will you stop thinking about it so much?
When there’s something else to think about.
Cool to the touch
It’s three in the morning, and the baby won’t stop crying.
I put on my gloves, reach into the immersion tank, and pull the baby out of its liquid Nitrogen bath.
An odd fog follows the baby and rolls off of its skin.
I lay the baby on the insulated blanket on my shoulder and rock it gently to sleep.
Then, I put the baby back into the liquid Nitrogen.
The fog envelops the baby, as I take off the gloves and blanket, and lay them on the chair.
I check my skin for burns, and go back to bed.
The cabinet
In my room, there’s a cabinet.
The cabinet was my grandmother’s.
Or maybe my great-grandmother’s. I can’t remember.
The cabinet has glass doors and lights in the shelves.
I keep keepsakes and memories of friends long gone in there.
I keep the doors closed, but dust always seems to get in somehow.
So, I open it up and dust everything off again.
Every piece I pick up to dust off reminds me of someone. Or some time. Or place.
Sometimes, I can’t remember.
I should write these memories down, I guess.
I close the doors and turn out the lights.
Space cowboy
Yes, some people call me the Space Cowboy, the Gangster of Love, and Maurice, but my driver’s license says Melvin Kaminsky.
I keep a to do list in my smartphone:
Pick, grin, love, sin, play my music in the sun, joke, and smoke.
Oh, and a reminder to toke up at midnight.
Okay, so I usually don’t wait until midnight to toke.
And I play my music inside while I play Warcraft.
And grin. I grin a lot, too.
And eat Little Debbie’s Snack Cakes. And pizza.
At least when I order from Domino’s, I use the name Space Cowboy.