February 06, 2009
August 23, 2008
August 05, 2008
July 01, 2008
September 12, 2007
September 05, 2007
July 27, 2007
July 26, 2007
Loathesome in its own Deliciousness
Though I hate props of any kind, I have to admit that the ONE prop that the teacher has finally pitbulled me into using each and every class is in fact making a big difference. That is a styrofoam square pad in sarvangasana. Not that it particularly helps in sarvangasana per se. I could already do that one ok, no problem. Fact is, I don't even much like sarvangasana to begin with, nor care about it whatsoever. No, the real target of this particular airstrike turns out to be Urdhva Padmasana, which, though I could always do it ok, never really felt right to me somehow. Just always a little off... But since I've been bulldozed into using that pad for sarvangasana, I find that practice has unexpectedly loosened up my chin somehow (or jalandara bandha or whatever the hell), so that now my UP feels and looks waaaaay better than before, I can really straighten my back in it. And that's nice cause UP is such a kickass posture, I mean, ya really look and feel like yer really doing yoga when ya get that one cooking on all burners. Guru Om to the max!
So does that mean I now see the utlimate value of props and I'll dive into them headfirst and become a bionic yogi like everyone else? Let me answer that with these lyrics from an old country song:
I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!(Johnny Cash)
AHAHAHAHA! *cough* ...
*Tabby chokes to death on a hairball thereby putting this stupid blog out of its misery once and for all*
Anyway you get the idea.
~
Reading Michael Behe's latest, Evolution's Edge, it is radically obvious that the Darwinian account of evolution, the cornerstone of all modern biology is a scam. It does operate, don't get me wrong, but accounts for only a trivial part of the most primitive aspects of what needs to be explained (variation and speciation). The NUMBERS jes' don't add up. Doesn't make the cut. I already knew everything else is a scam, so I'm gratified to discover that even this Darwinian sacred cow is no exception to the rule. Everything is false. Reading all the supposed refutations of Behe on the web and the Times and elsewhere, his critics didn't even take on his probability and stat analysis of malaria, E. Coli, and HIV virus mutation rates. They basically just said they don't like his hairstyle and that tie is practically a fashion crime. Idiots!
But where does that leave us? Trouble with these critics of Darwin is that having refuted him, they jump too far, all the way over to "Intelligent Design", which to them means basically God. No way that could be true! Even if they try to shy away from any one particular Bible-thumpin religious doctrine, still its clear that no real God worthy of the name would screw up the job to this extent.
So now what? Well I figure, if we have to go with "Intelligent Design" then the designERS must be some kind of (obviously evil) space aliens. They probably had some good genetic engineering tech, way back in the day, 2 billion years ago, came cruising by here and thought they'd have some fun jiggering with our raw materials. In other words they were just Assholes from Outer Space.
It's weird that the Intelligent Design people who think themselves sooo iconoclastic and brave for standing up to Darwinian Orthodoxy, shy away from a truly radical explanation, like mine. They cling to their monotheistic baby gobblygook.
BOLO SHIVA RAJ!
