I feel like I should apologise for not blogging more often. However, I have just a short while ago returned from some excellent gaming fun (Worms, Worms! Be still my heart) with my beloved Simon, so I’m not in a very apologetic mood.
We went to the Caius bar after dinner: Chris, Simon, Eamon and I (btw, Emmanuel peeps get their laundry done for them! I know the whole waiter thing at Caius is a bit much, but come on!). The beat of the music echoed in my head on the way home. So unapologetically nineties (there again the lack of remorse – perhaps my choice of music says more than at first glance) and yet, something in it, something sticks. The beat going around and around – no, not around, over and over, the running of old-fashioned trains comes to mind, rolling smoothly forward over the rails. Convection, convolution; what’s the word? The Youth Group version of ‘Forever Young’ rocks my world atm. That nineties soaring stickiness.
Some are like water
Some are like the heat
Some are melodies
Some are the beat
Sooner or later they’ll all be gone
Why don’t they stay on?
It’s hard to get without a cause
I don’t want to perish like a fading voice
Youth is like diamonds in the sun
And diamonds are forever
So many adventures couldn’t happen today
So many songs that we forgot to play
So many dreams swimming out in the blue
Let them come true
Forever young
I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever?
Forever, forever
I wanted to work today, I really did. To get going with the writing and the reading, reading, reading which characterises Caius History (the stacks of books on my desk: part of the furniture in more ways than one); much as I complain, I do love it. Alas, ’twas not to be. All the libraries were closed! Despite being the palace of my soul, somehow following the shape of my mind, unless it’s the other way around: that the shape of my mind is affected by the rooms themselves… despite this, I was sick of the sight of my walls. So that’s how I ended up hanging out with Simon, Chris and Eamon from Emma. Eating together at hall, then le bar; later, Youtube Top Trumps with Simon. It was always going to end in Worms.
The bar music. The beat, the nineties stickiness of it. The bluey-white glow of the computer screen on Simon’s face as we played. A good night.
So many adventures couldn’t happen today
So many songs that we forgot to play
So many dreams swimming out in the blue
Apologies for cannibalising my own Twitter and Facebook content, but this could just change your life.
Evolution by natural selection. Known as ‘Darwinism’ to those who like inappropriate naming conventions, it’s an uncontroversial theory with a Jupiter-sized body of evidence behind it, accepted by almost the entirety of the subset of the population who are, shall we say, ‘not crazy’. Its basic mechanisms are well understood, even by those with no professional scientific background whatsoever, and it stands as one of the single greatest advances in human understanding about the world at least since whoever-it-was discovered how to make cheese.
Or… is it?!
I thought I knew. I thought I’d heard all of the lame-beyond-lame arguments against it: you know, from the people who gleefully announce that there are GAPS IN THE FOSSIL RECORD!!111, as if the ‘fossil record’ was an audit of expenses meticulously prepared by an expensive consultancy firm rather than ‘the sum total of all the stuff we’ve found in the ground and various peat bogs’. But this was before I’d heard Ben Stein.
Ben Stein, for those whose lives have not already been immeasurably enriched by knowledge of the man, started out in life as a speechwriter for Richard Nixon. Indeed, he retains a touching loyalty to his early boss, asking the American Spectator in 2005 “can anyone even remember now what Nixon did that was so terrible?” and – presumably having been reminded of one of the single most toxic scandals to wreck public confidence in its elected representatives – going on to suggest that “he lied to protect his subordinates who were covering up a ridiculous burglary that no one to this date has any clue about its purpose. He lied so he could stay in office and keep his agenda of peace going. That was his crime. He was a peacemaker and he wanted to make a world where there was a generation of peace. And he succeeded”.
(The eagle eyed amongst you might note that the purpose of the Watergate burglary might – just perhaps! – have been related to the occupants of the building being the Democrats, the party against which Nixon was about to contest a presidential election. It might also have crossed your mind that Nixon’s ‘success’ in creating ‘a world where there was a generation of peace’ is rather unhelpfully challenged by the rather substantial amount of conflict that then took place, some of which is detailed by Ben Stein in that very same article. But no matter. Sarcasm is sometimes a convenient linguistic tool to ‘disguise’ contempt.)
Stein’s grasp of history is rivalled by his penchant for wise economic advice. In August 2007, appearing on the venerable Fox News, Stein opined the following:
Ben Stein: […] subprime is tiny. Subprime is a tiny, tiny blip.
Peter Schiff: It’s not tiny. And again, it’s not just subprime. It’s entire mortgage market.
Ben Stein: You’re simply wrong about that.
Peter Schiff: No, I’m not.
Ben Stein: Defaults for the whole mortgage market are tiny.
The time was right, apparently, for a great ‘buying opportunity, especially for the financials’. Especially for the financials! This is clearly a man whose good judgement knows few, if any, bounds (even, perhaps, if they are the bounds of ‘rationality’).
But it is Ben Stein’s contribution to the world of biological science that I would like to return to, because his great mind has identified a flaw of such magnitude in the theory of evolution by natural selection that the whole thing is blown clear out of its boggy peat-heavy water. How this has been missed by scientists for generations is a mystery we may never be able to solve. Without further ado, here it is:
“…but darwinism explains so little. It doesn’t explain how life began, it doesn’t explain how gravity works to keep the planets in their orbits, it doesn’t explain how thermodynamics works, it doesn’t explain how physics or the laws of motion work…”
(Watch from about 3.40 in.)
Nooooo!
I must concede. Darwinism doesn’t explain any of those things. In fact, thinking it over, I think Stein was just describing the tip of the iceberg. There’s actually a veritable cornucopia of things that Darwinism just leaves completely unanswered! For the education of the ignorant, I have played my part by preparing a small illustration of some of what I now think are the most egregious holes in the theory, but please do feel free to suggest some more.
Perhaps over time we can build up enough for a whole wallchart.
Things That Darwinism Doesn’t Explain (Incomplete)
(P.S. This video is hilarious.)
As per request (albeit from someone who fails to reciprocate 
) there hereby follows some (not terribly well lit, sorry) photos of my third year rooms:
This landing is mine, all mine I tells ya!
The first room is uninspiring but does contain that all important sink
And here we are: my cosy dwellings
Table exclusively to be used for guests + tea, I imagine
Just a quick dispatch this morning \ afternoon! It’s coming direct from the computer room because, alas, instant Internet connectivity at the beginning of the year still seems to be an unattainable goal. (Caius have actually instituted a shiny new system which authorises your computer online and doesn’t require any tiresome carrying-of-the-laptop-across-town anymore. Sadly, it’s crashed for the weekend.)
Nonetheless, everything is currently bright and happy and good! Our new house has the strangest interior layout you ever did see, and – very weirdly – I now have two separate rooms on my own little landing. (One is smaller, with a sink and a wardrobe.) Oliver and Abi, meanwhile, have rooms with incredibly high ceilings; Oliver in particular looks like he’s moved into a mini-cathedral. What’s really luxurious, though, is the location. I’ve always mentioned rather a few times that it’s on the same road as Sainsbury’s, but it’s also on the same road as Borders, and indeed one can walk through said bookshop as a shortcut right into the centre of town. At last!
Abi’s parents took me, Oliver and (obviously) Abi out for dinner last night, which was remarkably nice of them, especially as Abi seemed to delight in setting up points of debate. (“Argue about immigration!”) It was very civilised, however, and I am assured that I didn’t let the liberal side down over dinner – all the more notable given that Abi’s dad kept sneakily topping up my wine.
Other things of note: I’ve finally ordered a Caius hoodie (twas meant to be!) and am now technically eligible to read the Latin grace at dinner. There’s a form to fill out to let the Dean know if you want to, and attached is an FAQ covering such topics as ‘But isn’t it a bit Christian?’ – yes indeed, we are informed, and so naturally I won’t be taking part*
(*Even though I’d get a free glass of claret.)
Argh! I had such a lovely day today, and I refuse to let it be spoilt by the traditional headache-inducing stress over last-minute packing arrangements.
Stupid packing.
I spent quite a bit of today, my last day of the ‘summer’ holiday, back at school. You may very well find this strange – nay, downright disturbing – but it’s a free country \ I know my rights! \ wot evah [delete as applicable]. I particularly came in to see Mr. Buchanan who was also visiting to a well-deserved hero’s welcome from staff and students alike. (Battling cancer, sure, but that’s not why Year 11 boys ran into the English office to hug him. It’s because he’s a bloody great teacher.) Both of us were then invited to join Ms. Rupchand’s A2 English class. Y’know, for fun 
And what do you know – they’re doing Othello. Yay! And Iago’s being wonderfully viciously evil, Roderigo’s being oh so very very thick and Cassio can’t hold his drink, as per usual. I love this play. Iago thinks the lusty Moor’s ‘leaped into his seat’. “FUCKED HIS WIFE!” yells Jimmy, hands bestriding the air. The class collapses with laughter, like we used to – like everyone should. Desdemona’s still going to end up ‘deaded’ but for now she’s very much alive and not yet fallen pray to defiant-Shakespearian-female-crumpling-halfway-through syndrome. Good for her.
Did you know: I walked past Peter Mandelson the other day? I did indeed. Looking suave, as always. I love his relish.
As second break begins I leave with Saoirse, who’s coming over to have tea, and we collide with Tasha. The three of us go home and end up watching Lady and the Tramp on VHS in order to beef-up Saoirse’s Disney education. It’s wonderful. Old things, VHS tapes. You have to rewind them: our machine has a super-fast rewind. That used to be a selling feature, advertised on the box. Imagine that! The quality of the tape is variable at best: the colours look like they’ve been drudged through a muddy puddle and favourite scenes are interspersed with flashes of snowy black and white. It’s wonderful. No, really, it is. There’s an orchestral soundtrack perfectly timed to all the little movements of the characters. Tramp calls Lady pidge, but it sounds a lot like bitch and makes us giggle. Two Italian men, one fat and one thin, prepare a romantic meal for a stray dog and his date. What a nice thing to do.
Bu-le-ee-ee-tt-tt pr-oo-oo-ff!
Helen on It’s (waiting) time.: “Fabulous news, congratulations to you both! X” Jun 8, 21:51
