September 17th 2006 8:42 am
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The Frisbetarian Mother Church of Greater Metropolitan Spreckels takes no official position on the Intelligent Design controversy currently raging throughout the heartland of the nation.
If it is your honest and life-affirming belief that the Frisbee™ brand flying disk is nothing more than the end result of what unattended matter gets up to, age upon age, in the darkness of the Wham-O Company Product Development Department broom closet, we’re here to validate your belief system.
If, on the other hand, you know in the very ventricals of your little heart that the Frisbee™ brand flying disk was brought forth fully formed in all its glory from the forehead of the Wham-O Company Chief Designer… well, that’s OK with us, too.
We’re not here to brand anyone a heretic, apostate, unbeliever, or just plain fool. Not as long as he tithes, we’re not. (And by the way, Littermates, a tithe is not whatever you feel you can spare after all expenses, including cello lessons for your puppies. A tithe is one tenth of your income. Period. Not that anyone’s counting.)
But, all of the foregoing notwithstanding, I thought I might clarify my own personal views on intelligent design by telling you a little story about a golden retriever and a golf ball.
The senior bipup’s first piano teacher was a fellow who may or may not have been named Bruce. “Bruce” owned a golden retriever whose actual name the deponent knoweth not, but whom, for convenience sake, we shall call Finnegan.
One day, Finnegan found a golf ball in “Bruce’s” back yard. (Which may in itself have been a minor miracle, as “Bruce’s” income from piano teaching did not enable him to live in the kind of neighborhood that has a lot of golf courses.)
Anyway, Finnegan, being a golden retriever, immediately swallowed the golf ball. The diameter of his esophagus was such that he was able to do so without great difficulty or discomfort.
Unfortunately, however, Finnegan’s digestive tract did a very inadequate job of breaking the golf ball down into its constituent dimples and rubber bands, the result being that Finnegan, while able to get the golf ball in at one end, was unable to get it out at the other. An expensive and dangerous surgery was required to remove the golf ball.
Now my point is this: An animal whose esophagus is larger than his anus may have been designed. But can you really call it an intelligent design?
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