Origins
- Thread starter AN4
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Mowl
Member
Perhaps Freud's theory of displacement is his best option?
lol Tiglet thinks that he's disproved evolution with a Discovery Institute article -
Post in thread 'Origins Thread' https://www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com/threads/origins-thread.639/post-155558
Post in thread 'Origins Thread' https://www.sarsfieldsvirtualpub.com/threads/origins-thread.639/post-155558
Mowl
Member
Jimmy, you're starting to worry us.
First off, you're having a conversation with yourself about gravity - and nobody cares.
Now you're linking to conversations on a completely other site as though anyone cares.
Why not head into McDonald's and see about a job cleaning the boy's and girl's toilets?
This shit's going to get you precisely nowhere.
Apart from a dose of some borderline mental illness.
Those Creationist museums in America are something else, think I'd visit one if I was ever over there out of mere curiosity.
creationmuseum.org
Creation, Science, Bible History, & Dinosaurs
The state-of-the-art 75,000-square-foot Creation Museum brings the Bible to life, casting its characters and animals in dynamic form. Prepare to believe.
creationmuseum.org
It's always interesting when Americans try to use bullshit excuses for their founding fathers who are all but demigods over there, Demigods who could do no wrong, who didn't fart, belch....butter wouldn't melt in their mouths etc etc.
"Well, Jefferson and Madison knew slavery was wrong, hoping it would be done away with eventually....."
Translation: they cared about freedom for themselves, yet gained financially through the institutional bondage of humans, so freedom for everyone = a big no no where it effects personal wealth. The almighty dollar has been America's uncrowned King since the very beginning.
"Well, Jefferson and Madison knew slavery was wrong, hoping it would be done away with eventually....."
Translation: they cared about freedom for themselves, yet gained financially through the institutional bondage of humans, so freedom for everyone = a big no no where it effects personal wealth. The almighty dollar has been America's uncrowned King since the very beginning.
That would be Young Earth Creationism (and probably what most people think of)
There are other types, Tiggy's thing is intelligent design (ID) hence the "Origins" thread
ID is creationism that's anti-evolution pseudoscience masquerading as science. I think the US government has had to fight them in court to keep it out of schools
Mowl
Member
Young creationist there with his Northern accent makes Mowl laugh.
How come Tigger the toe-bar wasn't intelligently designed?
Give it a few years and Ireland will be adopting the same lame theories - just to be 'with the 'in' crowd'.
Anything but the Roman catholic church.
Good question
Do you reckon he (Tiglet) talks about it (ID) with his fellow mass-goers?
Mowl
Member
I'd imagine church-going catholics fucking HATE creationists of any kind.
They love all the visceral blood and guts of a good crucifixion of a wet Sunday afternoon - especially after a really good mass by a long-term stalwart.
You see them sitting there staring up at the body of the bejayzus nailed to a cross and everything's alright in the world for them.
Bloody holes through the hands, the feet, the temples, and a gushing wound in the side where the guts spill out onto the altar.
That's when they love having a few altar-boys to hand: takes their minds off the blood-letting and broken promises of the bejayzus's right-hand men.
I attended a mass late last year: I was nudged in the direction of the priest when it came to the feasting bit: I took my turn, but instead of letting the old bollocks anywhere near my gob, I took it in my hands instead. But he was watching me. As I walked away I put it into my breast pocket. I thought it'd make for an interesting conversation starter when I got home to Finland. But the old buzzard first finished his mass, polished the chalice, put it back in its box, and then walked straight over to me (I was sat in the front pews) and said I couldn't leave the church with 'de host' in my pocket - to either give it back to him or eat it now.
Rather than cause any embarrassment to my company, I chucked it into my gob and it stuck to the roof of my mouth, so when I tried to speak to him I sounded like I had a cleft palate on top of a mental-sounding lisp. My cousin (who was sat beside me) was cracking up laughing and had to turn away. But just to prove to the priest that I had eaten it (or was trying to) I tilted my head back and pointed to the little wafer upside my mouth and said:
'Thzee? Deh et ess deh - uppen me moustht'.
He looked at me like I was the divil himself and finally said: 'go in peace, my son..'
To which I glibly replied: 'thanthtss Fadda..'
When he turned to walk back to the altar, I scraped it off the roof of my mouth and stuck it back in my pocket.
I guess it's still in the waistcoat of the suit I borrowed from our kid.
Still a good conversation starter.
They love all the visceral blood and guts of a good crucifixion of a wet Sunday afternoon - especially after a really good mass by a long-term stalwart.
You see them sitting there staring up at the body of the bejayzus nailed to a cross and everything's alright in the world for them.
Bloody holes through the hands, the feet, the temples, and a gushing wound in the side where the guts spill out onto the altar.
That's when they love having a few altar-boys to hand: takes their minds off the blood-letting and broken promises of the bejayzus's right-hand men.
I attended a mass late last year: I was nudged in the direction of the priest when it came to the feasting bit: I took my turn, but instead of letting the old bollocks anywhere near my gob, I took it in my hands instead. But he was watching me. As I walked away I put it into my breast pocket. I thought it'd make for an interesting conversation starter when I got home to Finland. But the old buzzard first finished his mass, polished the chalice, put it back in its box, and then walked straight over to me (I was sat in the front pews) and said I couldn't leave the church with 'de host' in my pocket - to either give it back to him or eat it now.
Rather than cause any embarrassment to my company, I chucked it into my gob and it stuck to the roof of my mouth, so when I tried to speak to him I sounded like I had a cleft palate on top of a mental-sounding lisp. My cousin (who was sat beside me) was cracking up laughing and had to turn away. But just to prove to the priest that I had eaten it (or was trying to) I tilted my head back and pointed to the little wafer upside my mouth and said:
'Thzee? Deh et ess deh - uppen me moustht'.
He looked at me like I was the divil himself and finally said: 'go in peace, my son..'
To which I glibly replied: 'thanthtss Fadda..'
When he turned to walk back to the altar, I scraped it off the roof of my mouth and stuck it back in my pocket.
I guess it's still in the waistcoat of the suit I borrowed from our kid.
Still a good conversation starter.
The thing is though, they're quite fond of an aul bit of creationism, scolairebocht for example thinks that the Earth is only 6,000 years old (YEC)
It's harder to imagine Tiglet though talking to them about all the stupid shit he watches on YouTube (related to ID)
Mowl
Member
Obviously, I'm not a believer myself, but I don't (any longer) begrudge those who find solace in believing in entities of whatever kind. When I'm finished my sauna, I follow the 'tontu' rule: use the remaining water in the bucket to wash down the spot on the upper bench where I was sat and while doing so, thank the sauna tontu for a nice hour's steam. I've done this also in company, and nobody so much as bats an eyelid. It's tradition, custom, a curious half-belief in something we can't see but want to believe it exists. The tontu lives under the benches and when sauna time's up, takes care of everything - including the wet tiles on the floor, all washed clean and made ready for the next person to enjoy. A tontu is an elf, a little helper who's always just out of sight but is very real to the kids.
At the funeral mass described above, I was simply curious as to how things have changed since I was in knee-pants and obliged to attend mass each Sunday until the age of twelve, when I was finally allowed by my parents to choose for myself whether church was for me. Simply saying no wasn't an option: an explanation was required, and mine was very simple and honest. I will not bow down to strange old men in habits, I will not confess to a bunch of lies I had to make up to have something to say to the priest on the other side of the grille in the confessional. I will not pretend to respect the same men who beat and bugger the kids around me. Because they can get away with it. I'm a child, not quite a teenager just yet, but I've read Henry Miller, Tolkien, the life story of Pierrepoint the executioner, a hangman respected in the society of his day, and so on. That was when the parents clocked that I'd been through everything on their bookshelf as well as my own. My choice was accepted and that was the end of church for me. Since then, a handful of funerals, and that's about it. The only Irish weddings I've attended were both humanist affairs and they were lovely joyous events, untainted by angelic ghosts and macabre wall hangings of people being stabbed, burned, and crucified. And at both I wrote my own best-man speeches, much to my Mam's glowing pride.
Modern creationism is a typically American fantasy: like Disney world, the Grand Canyon, and Atlantic city.
I've never met a non-American believer in creationism but I'd imagine it'd be a howl of a conversation to have with one.
The priest who accosted me about the host in my pocket seemed a nice enough bloke when I was introduced to him. But by the time the coffin was in the ground I knew him to be a bitter and paranoid old man with nasty suspicions and a total lack of any trust in anyone around him. I chatted with him and asked him why he said all these gushing things about the person who died, when he quite clearly didn't know them at all. He spoke about his obligations and good will, that saying not so nice things wasn't an option. So I simply pointed out that he was confessing to me to his being a liar.
That didn't go down too well at all, and he visibly bristled at me.
That was when I mentioned to him about the BBBB, which he had heard about from someone else at the service. So I said to him it would surely be wiser to read for himself what I had to say rather than get it in third-person gossip about this clever and witty local who had a following of over ten thousand locals. Nope, he didn't want to know, but that didn't stop me: I found the email address for the house attached to the church and wrote to him, I included a few links to articles that wouldn't offend his beliefs too much but which were neatly nestled in between other articles that definitely would piss him off.
Never heard from the old buzzard again after that.
These men aren't interested in what anyone (who doesn't believe as they do) has to say about god and religion.
Which kind of takes the wind out of their sails, creating a veritable Marie Celeste of an archaic belief system.
At the funeral mass described above, I was simply curious as to how things have changed since I was in knee-pants and obliged to attend mass each Sunday until the age of twelve, when I was finally allowed by my parents to choose for myself whether church was for me. Simply saying no wasn't an option: an explanation was required, and mine was very simple and honest. I will not bow down to strange old men in habits, I will not confess to a bunch of lies I had to make up to have something to say to the priest on the other side of the grille in the confessional. I will not pretend to respect the same men who beat and bugger the kids around me. Because they can get away with it. I'm a child, not quite a teenager just yet, but I've read Henry Miller, Tolkien, the life story of Pierrepoint the executioner, a hangman respected in the society of his day, and so on. That was when the parents clocked that I'd been through everything on their bookshelf as well as my own. My choice was accepted and that was the end of church for me. Since then, a handful of funerals, and that's about it. The only Irish weddings I've attended were both humanist affairs and they were lovely joyous events, untainted by angelic ghosts and macabre wall hangings of people being stabbed, burned, and crucified. And at both I wrote my own best-man speeches, much to my Mam's glowing pride.
Modern creationism is a typically American fantasy: like Disney world, the Grand Canyon, and Atlantic city.
I've never met a non-American believer in creationism but I'd imagine it'd be a howl of a conversation to have with one.
The priest who accosted me about the host in my pocket seemed a nice enough bloke when I was introduced to him. But by the time the coffin was in the ground I knew him to be a bitter and paranoid old man with nasty suspicions and a total lack of any trust in anyone around him. I chatted with him and asked him why he said all these gushing things about the person who died, when he quite clearly didn't know them at all. He spoke about his obligations and good will, that saying not so nice things wasn't an option. So I simply pointed out that he was confessing to me to his being a liar.
That didn't go down too well at all, and he visibly bristled at me.
That was when I mentioned to him about the BBBB, which he had heard about from someone else at the service. So I said to him it would surely be wiser to read for himself what I had to say rather than get it in third-person gossip about this clever and witty local who had a following of over ten thousand locals. Nope, he didn't want to know, but that didn't stop me: I found the email address for the house attached to the church and wrote to him, I included a few links to articles that wouldn't offend his beliefs too much but which were neatly nestled in between other articles that definitely would piss him off.
Never heard from the old buzzard again after that.
These men aren't interested in what anyone (who doesn't believe as they do) has to say about god and religion.
Which kind of takes the wind out of their sails, creating a veritable Marie Celeste of an archaic belief system.
I don't have a problem with the religious (being religious) either
My pushback comes from when they invoke science, deny (extraneous) rationality (because of their religious belief) and pontificate about heathens (invariably not knowing what atheism is)
Mowl
Member
Even when they're in positions of authority over kids and imposing their personal beliefs on them?
Interesting.
Ah, so you're more bothered about the way they go about explaining their beliefs.
I thought so: arguing for the sake of arguing - which also explains your addiction to hanging around male-dominated chat sites.
As a practicing heathen, I abide by the live and let live rule - so long as nobody, especially kids - get hurt or damaged by it, that's fine: it's your own call.
You don't think.. about what anyone else says
Reason: You're a pathological narcissist