Intelligent Design: Should It Be Taught?

Note: I am so pissed off right now, not because of Intelligent design but because of Blogger. I wrote one of the longest posts I have ever written (with thorough research and everything) and what does Blogger do? It completely fucks up the whole post and deletes half of it. All that time... lost. Now I have to write this post again... What motivation do I have now? How could I possibly match the quality of the deleted post? Shitty Blogger...

But anyway, to the post:

Despite being a man of science, I am very tolerant of religion. I respect what religion can do to peoples' lives and the purpose it brings. However, there are many aspects of religion too far-fetched to ignore and one of these is Intelligent Design.

There is a teacher in my school who is one of those crazy religious nutcases. Except he is armed with science and has been brainwashing all the students with tripe about Intelligent Design with scientific justifications for years.

It began with Christian Union, he would preach every week to an average audience of three about religion and science and how they are linked. He once declared that anyone was allowed to argue against his beliefs on Intelligent Design. My and my friends decided one day to ask him "How can you believe in Intelligent Design with the evidence around you?"

We were bored at the time and he had practically invited us to have an argument with him (when would we get another opportunity to do that with a teacher?). Before we knew it we were stuck in Christian Union listening to an hour lecture on how religion explains science or some other shit along those lines.

At first I was enticed by the idea of intelligent design, even though I still believed in evolution no matter what it all seemed to make sense. But later, when some thought was applied, it was a load of bullshit.

An example of such bullshit was: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep."

Apparently this refers to the Big Bang theory. It seems to make sense, after all, the Big Bang theory explains that the Universe was created and that time, space, everything was created in that one moment and began existing. Is that not what the first line of Genesis says? That God created everything (the Heavens and the Earth) at once?

Of course anything can interpreted as anything. The Bible was created by the Vatican (who picked and chose Gospels which benefited the them) and the Big Bang theory is just a theory and subject to change. If the Big Bang theory was disproved what then? New interpretations would be found no doubt.

But anyway that was just one example. Most of you are no doubt thinking, you stick to your beliefs I stick to mine. This post wasn't written to criticise Religious people (most of whom accept Evolution). It was the fact that my teacher went to the BBC and lobbying for Intelligent Design that sparked this post.

Now to the point of this post, should Intelligent Design be taught in schools? Is there any educational value?

The answer is no.

Firstly, Intelligent design is all based on faith while Evolution is based on something more substantial (e.g. DNA, Natural selection etc.). Most people (even the religious) accept Evolution and there is overwhelming evidence for it.

As The Now Show put it, any students fortunate enough to get Intelligent Design for A-level would get remarkable results:

Q. What happened during the Big Bang?
A. Something we do not understand caused by a thing we don't know.

Q. How did organic molecules develop the ability to self-replicate?
A. By some unknown force doing a thing we cannot understand.

Q. Explain the mechanisms by which species develop through random
mutation?
A. By the interference by some intelligent thing that is more complex than anything we know and yet, can never know.

As you see, if Intelligent design were put in place we wouldn't learn anything. Teaching Intelligent Design is such a waste of time and would just contribute to science in this country going backwards.

Secondly, there are a lot of clever, but impressionable, young people in my school. The influence my chemistry teacher has over them is massive. He has converted a fair few to Intelligent Design and they are not even religious. How can you believe in it if you don't believe in a creator? Most people don't understand and those that "teach" it are highly persuasive.

So to conclude, Intelligent design contributes nothing to education and it doesn't even count as a science, it's not in the curriculum for a reason. If we bow down to these evangelical lobbyists we'd become more and more like America. Does anyone want that?

Into the Bowells of the NHS... Part 2

Before reading the second instalment of my near death experience, I suggest you read part 1.

So there I was, stuck in a hospital bed against my will with nothing to keep me company expect the throbbing pain in my chest and the disease-ridden patients that surrounded me. I slept fitfully that night, plagued by bad dreams and the persistent coughing of the critically ill.

In the morning I was filled with a renewed vigour. The chest pain had subsided and if I were to be discharged early I might just make it for the Citizenship test (I later discovered the test to be incredibly easy. Even if I wrote with my eyes closed and took a nap midway I would still have aced it). This feeling of hope carried me through the morning, at least until around 9 am when I realised no doctor was coming anytime soon.

When a doctor did come, he explained to me I had suffered from a "spontaneous neumothorax".

"What that means is," the doctor explained helpfully, "air has gotten between your rib cage and your lungs. So this air pushed against your lungs which is why it hurt. Do you understand or should I repeat to you again?"

The doctor maintained his patronising tone for the duration of my stay.

"We call it spontaneous because it just happened. We don't know the cause."

Oh thanks Doc. Tell me something I don't know.

He then checked my breathing and started muttering "that's odd...". It must have slipped his mind to explain to me because he quickly hastened out the door, leaving me thoroughly bewildered and worried. He came back with a troupe of doctors to examine me.

"Listen to what's odd with his chest," the main doctor proclaimed. It was at that point I realised that my doctor was a consultant (a post I aspire to obtain one day) and the other doctors were his registrars (the trainee consultants). So basically the case was so fascinating/disturbing that the consultant dragged three other doctors from their precious life-saving work just to take a look at me. This did not bode well for my health and I was beginning to feel like a circus freak.

After much frantic discussion and standing around in my hospital nightgown, feeling like a fool, they decided it was best I stay for a CT scan.

The news was a real sucker punch and I was becoming frantic. What if I were to stay another day? Then another? Who knew how long I would need to wait for this CT scan. And what about my missed exams? Would I need to frantically revise to fit them into the remaining days of my exam timetable or not do them at all and not get the confidence boost I badly needed?

The place was resembling a prison more and more everyday; The food was barely edible, the people were miserable, there was no freedom or entertainment... In fact, it was worse then prison. At least there you'd be able to exercise and have a shower every now and then. I was confined to my bed and hadn't washed in days. Of my stay in hospital not one person brushed their teeth or washed in any way whatsoever.

As I waited for my CT scan that day, the long hours of boredom were really getting to me. If it weren't for The Religion (the book not the belief), a copy of The Times and the senile fellow who kept engaging me in incoherent conversation I would have gone insane. I spent many hours playing Snake II on my mobile, trying to beat the high score my friend set five years ago (that's what boredom reduced me to).

When the doctors finally came back to check up on me, after an eight hour wait, it was decided that I wasn't to have the CT scan. Instead I was to be "under surveillance" for another night.

When I heard the news I almost burst into tears.

Not Funny

Instead of writing part 2 of my adventures through our country's national health service (what happened after I was hospitalised? Ooh the suspense!), I thought I'd tell you all about how I became a contributor for Canadian humour site, notfunny.ca.

Canadians? Humour? An oxymoron surely? (I'm sure I've used that joke somewhere. Oh right, here) The site wasn't bad and I was flattered when they didn't snub me in my attempts to leech traffic and offered me the position of contributor.

The site itself is... decent. There's some funny stuff and not-so-funny stuff (which might be because I'm contributing to it).

Some articles seemed to have been taken from Uncyclopedia's waste bin, contrived by teenagers who think stringing nonsense together is funny. It might work for the Americans (who, in my opinion, have the worst comedy ever) but not for us British, we want more from our humour.

Having said that, there is some great stuff on there so I insist you check it out. If the thought of Canadians writing humour freaks you out then keep away ( I could never understand Canadian stereotypes. So are Canadians meant to be polite and boring or something?).

On the subject of comedy, I seem to find little funny. There is hardly anything that will get me laughing out loud (only Never Mind the Buzzcocks, and this dude). Maybe that's why I'm so critical. It's not like I'm incredibly funny so I shouldn't be complaining really.

I was going to announce my new position earlier, but more interesting topics pushed it aside and I just don't have the time to write that much. So anyway, I now contribute some of my material from the blog to their site in exchange for some traffic and gratitude.

Into the Bowells of the NHS... Part 1

On Tuesday the 28th of November, I embarked on a journey filled with anguish and pain and despair. This journey was of course metaphoric; it was more an 'experience' (maybe involuntary confinement would be a better way to describe it) and it led me into the inner bowells of the England's failing National Health Service; a topic that has sparked much controversy over the past few years.

Before I begin my tale of enlightenment, I must admit that I have never been hospitalised before in my life. I have never had the pleasure of spending time in a dreary hospital so imagine my surprise when the doctors told me I wouldn't be going home that night (or the night after). I did not know what to expect and was curious of my first hand experience with the notorious NHS.

So anyway, to the story...

It all began at school. What started out as nothing turned into laboured breathing and a dull pain spreading through my chest. It was endurable but left me extremely worried; What disease could inflict chest pains but no coughing? I thought of Pneumonia, Tuboculosis, AIDS (don't ask me why. I eventually associate every inexplicable disease to AIDS). I made sure all my friends knew just how much I was suffering.

"You're such a hypercondriac!" Robin complained, before hitting me on the back (to 'relieve' the pain apparently). "If it really hurts so much go to the Office. Atleast then you'd stop bothering me."

I admit, I am a hypercondriac at times. But because I know I'm a hypercondriac, any inexplicable pains are attributed to hypercondria. This pain was horribly real and ominously in the area of my chest. I couldn't take any chances with this.

I excused myself from my maths lesson and went to the Office. The secretaries there were totally unsympathetic and they didn't show the least bit concerned when they told me to wait and I was struggling to breathe. My dad ferried me to the Liverpool Royal Hospital (I was too old for Alder Hay, Liverpool childrens hospital and leading infant organ harvester). This is where my story really begins.

I was admitted into the the emergency unit and told to wait. There were three people waiting with me; Two men and a woman.

Both men were tracksuited and one looked like the father of the other. Occasionally the younger would cry and his father would reassure him (as if he'd just been diagnosed with cancer). The boy was treated like a ten year old and was told to leave his fathers side by the doctors (for reasons I will never know). The woman (I assume) was an alcoholic. Her speech was slurred, her reactions were slow and at times she would just stare blankly, even when the doctor talked to her. The doctor was unimpressed when she claimed she suffered a heart attack and he threatened to call security. Eventually the woman ambled off, possibly in a drunken stupor. I pitied them but I pitied myself more.

Already I'd encountered these two cases they both depressed me immensely. It didn't help that every now and then, crying relatives were ushered past me into a room (I never saw a single person leave).

Eventually, the doctor got to me and I was given a temporary bed where they could examine me. I waited for about three hours. I asked for a sandwich twice and the nurses promised me it would be delivered. I never saw a single sandwich that night.

When the doctor came, he delivered the devastating new that I was to stay the night, "under surveillence". I'd probably have registered less shock if you were to tell me God was real, the apocalyse is next week or that LFC had won the treble.

"I can't. I've got GCSE mocks!" I protested weakly. I knew it was in vain. Since I wasn't old enough to discharge myself, and my condition was serious enough to stay the night, the only people who had control of my situation were the doctors. They were to decide when I was to leave and when not. It was like prison (except with less luxuries).

As I was wheeled to my bed (I had waited three hours and I was put in a room with four free beds. I couldn't understand why I needed to wait so long for an empty room.) The idea of staying the night filled me with dread. I tried to console myself but it was no use. In fact, the only things that kept me going was the guilt my friends would be feeling at this moment, and that I would be able to write about my experiences as soon as I was discharged. Those alone gave me strength to endure the night.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

Scotland: Independant Country?

For some unknown reason, I decided to watch Braveheart sometime ago (there was nothing else on, I swear). Having endured Mel Gibson and his poor Scottish accent long enough I began wondering, if the Scots hate England so much, why be part of the UK?

And now recently, Gordon Brown (a scot) has told the Scottish Labour party independance isn't such a good idea, reiterating what Tony Blair has said about a vote of independance for Scotland and responding to criticism that he is responsible for "Scottish economic underperformance".

Not meaning to sound jingoistic, but if they're going to pin all their problems on England then they can bloody well piss off. What is the point of the United Kingdom if Scotland will just be vying for independance? They wouldn't even agree to a Great Britain football team! How unsupportive can you get?

The only reason Blair/Brown want Scotland to stay is the large share of Labour voters that keep the duo in power. They gave Scottish politicians the right to vote on matters that will not affect their constituencies, how is that fair? Blair gave Scotland its own Parliament and now he's feeling the consequences.

Reasons for Scottish independance:

1. Hatred of the English
2. The English love a joke at Scotlands expense
3. Not in support of GB football team
4. Celtic and Rangers (the dreaded Old Firm)
5. Braveheart
6. Scottish Nationalist Party
7. The country is full of sheep
8. It's a wet and cold place (despite what the "Visit Scotland" advert says)

Strong arguments I think you will find.

How does Scotland actually benefit England? Other than provide Labour with valuable voters? If Scotland wants to become a minor European country than so be it. Give the Scottish a chance to run their own country; Blair gave them a government so why not?

There are two outcomes if independance is given:

Country fails
Scotland is no longer supported by England and fails miserably at the running of their country. Trade and economy become stagnant and basically the whole country goes to pot. Every Englishman laughs. Scottish become butt of all jokes.

Country succeeds
Scotland becomes prosperous and does an Ireland (3rd richest country in the world after independance). Every Englishman becomes incredibly jealous and anti-Scottish sentement rises. But the Scottish have the last laugh as England is left in a dire state (NHS, rising crime etc.)

But to be honest nothing's going to change. All I know is that Braveheart is an awful movie and that Scottish football is dire. If the country can't sort out its football how can it sort out its politics?

Casino Royale - A Review

I have put off writing a review for the new James Bond movie, mainly because I have mixed feelings about the film and I'm not sure whether I like it or not. Or whether Daniel Craig deserved the highly prestigious Bond role.

Having said that, the new Bond film was a vast improvement to the previous James Bond portrayed by Pierce Brosnan (who looks more like an office manager than a tough British agent). Casino Royale has broken from the stereotype of Bond as some womanising, smarmy git with the powers of invincibility; choosing instead to explore Bond's earlier days when he was young and reckless, and most importantly, someone who is indeed vulnerable.

We no longer see the Bond of old, who could cartwheel through an army of machine-gunners, karate chop them all and still look impeccable enough to order a martinee and seduce the fabulously attractive girl sitting opposite. Daniel Craig's Bond shows weaknesses, misjudgements and gets bruised a lot (when has Pierce Brosnan ever had a cut lip let alone a bruise?), he even suffers emotional damage which makes the whole film more interesting and enjoyable.

We won't be seeing this smarmy git anytime soon

Having pointed out the new improvements to Bond, we come the negative aspects of the film.

Despite Daniel Craig's decent portrayal of a more human Bond, I still have my doubts about him. Firstly, he just seems to old. Considering this is a remake of the first Bond movie (and he has just been made 007) he looks remarkably old, which seemed to annoy me a great deal (but most people will get over it I guess).

Secondly, some of his dialogue was totally uninspiring. At times he just droned on and on in his monotone drawl which sickened me greatly. The guy has proved he can do action but I feel that he should give his mouth a rest from time to time, especially when there's dialogue as boring as shown in Casino Royale.

Also, the plot was weak until the end where it became badly cluttered and confusing. They seemed to cram all the twists into the end and none of it was to be expected; the plot gave no clues whatsoever which was a letdown.

Having said that, Casino Royale marks a new era for Bond films and I look forward to the next one. I have no regrets about booting Pierce Brosnan.

On a side note, I actually expected my co-author to write a post on this topic (he is Bond-crazy and probably fantasises about Bond or being Bond). Unfortunately, he was meant to watch it but his dad stood him up, the poor bastard.

A lucrative scheme

After what seems like hundreds of rejections, PayPerPost have finally admitted defeat and accepted me into their amazing lucrative system. Therefore I will start shilling links as soon as possible.

Why have I done this? Am I not selling my soul? Will I be condemned to Blogging Hell for misinforming my readers and posting untruthful comments about the awesomeness of certain products and services? The whole point of this blog was to vent out my hatred for the system and inform the world, how can I do this now if my judgement is clouded with fiscal incentives?

I fear the retribution of my fellow bloggers... What will they think if I shill a link like this: viral marketing ? Will they no longer respect me?

But before you judge me for shamelessly selling out, remember this. I have University to think about.

The measly $10 I get from this post means that:

• I can put off finding a job for about an hour
• It will contribute to 1/10000 of the funds needed for Uni
• I could use it to motivate the blog's co-author, Torquer (or atleast buy a stick to beat him with.)
• my livelihood is supported
• Contributes to my inevitable departure of this "fair" city Liverpool (help me get the hell outta here)

And what do you care anyway? PayPerPost are paying for this blog, something I don't see you doing.

So go to PayPerPost if you wan't to get paid for writing your blog. I love it because it pays me.

Cruel and Unusual Names

The cruelest thing a parent can do, and the easiest way of alienating your child for the rest of their life, is by giving them an unusual name. It is guarenteed that once the child is literate and old enough to understand their parents silly notions, they will attribute every miserable moment of their life to the day their parents decided: "We have ideas above our station, let's name our kids after sci-fi characters and cities and other crazy things just to be different" . Do parents ever consider this, when naming their children "Gandalf"?

Of course, it's not always to be different; it's totally acceptable to name you children after your idols (e.g. calling your child Steven because you are a fan of LFC and like Steven Gerrard). But what happen if your hero has an odd name that people could make fun of? For example Nwankwo Kanu, I love the guy but I wouldn't name any of my kids after him; kids would chase after him chanting n-WANK-wo, n-WANK-wo.

A friend of mine was walking through Toxteth once (how he came out alive I'll never know) and he had overheard a mother, who called to her two girls: "Come back Beyonce! Shakira!" He found it hilarious and when I heard the story I found it vaguely funny as well. Naming one of them after a superstar would be ok, but two.... It just conjures up funny images in peoples minds.

Peaches Honeyblossom Pixie Frou-Frou, Fifi Trixiebell, Heavenly Hiraani Tiger Lily... What was Bob Geldof thinking? They're not yappy little dogs, their your children!

Personally, I blame the celebrities for this naming phenomenon (Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin's daughter Apple... wtf?). These people should be setting an example in naming their children, instead of trying to be different. Surely they must know that whatever they name their children, others will copy it in blind idol worship?

Orlando Bloom... fine I guess. Lourdes Leon (Mad-onna's daughter)... pushing it. What next? Liverpool Johnson?

Sarah Malone, of findmypast.com had this to say about the subject:

"It seems that many of us are happy to take hero worship to a while new level, naming our children adter the stars we admire. It would appear that the British sense of humour is alive and well with Gandalf, Harry Potter and Superman"

Parents should try and exercise this "British humour" more often. I'd love to meet a few Harry Potters (I can just about imagine the fangirls-cum-mothers...). What a laugh that would be!

But the funniest name was that of a James Bond fan (who inspired this post), who recently and officially changed his name to:

James Dr No From Russia With Love Goldfinger Thunderball You Only Live Twice On Her Majesty's Secret Service Diamonds Are Forever Live And Let Die The Man With The Golden Gun The Spy Who Loved Me Moonraker For Your Eyes Only Octopussy A View To A Kill The Living Daylights Licence To Kill Golden Eye Tomorrow Never Dies The World Is Not Enough Die Another Day Casino Royale Bond

How much of a kick could he possibly get from from introducing himself as "Bond, James Bond"? Everyone would think he's a gimp and it'd be a bugger to fill out tax forms.

In conclusion, when I have children I'll give them good, unmockable names. I'll leave the weird names for my pets.

Junkies sent to prison paid for not getting drugs

In what seems to be a momentary lapse of sanity, The British government has decided to to settle out of court by giving drug addicts forced to go 'Cold Turkey' in prison payouts of around £750,000 because of a breach of human rights. Apparently, this will cost the taxpayer less if it weren't drawn out in court.

Correct me if i'm wrong, but did they not forfeit their human rights once they broke the law and took drugs? They can't possibly expect us to treat them humanely if they're in prison. If prison was such a wonderful place; free food, accomodation, drug addiction treatment, library (or so I am told) then we'd be queuing to go there.

The problem is we are spending too much taxpayers money turning our prisons into luxury hotels. Prisoners shouldn't expect to be pampered, they should be reminded that what they did was morally wrong and should therefore be punished. If refusing them of the drugs they so crave (which is what got them in jail in the first pace) is painful for the individual then so be it; you can't say they didn't warn them when they took the drugs in the first place.

These recent events make us question the whole legal system really. Why should they have had the right to take to court something so trivial? Why does it cost so much to tackle the case in court? It seems like the only people benefiting from the human rights acts are criminals and their legal teams.

If you ask me, I should be the one getting the compensation. Valuable money has been spent on these degenerate junkies and I haven't benefited one bit from it (other than the increase in drug related crime and the chavs roaming our streets; which are both associated with drugs and have directly affected me at one point or another). Compensation for all that taxpayer money that has been wasted on losers who take drugs, and the rehab clinics to treat them.

It's time we re-thought the whole human rights act. It seems the only people that benefit from it are the guilty, while the money of the innocent is being spent.

A progess report (that you should probably ignore)

It's been a few months now and the blog certainly seems to be going places. Impressive traffic, rave ratings, a loyal and massive fan base (notice the exaggeration). It seems meaningless just to alert the world of my lacklustre achievements with this blog; however, there was another reason why I wrote this dull post.

the truth is dear bloggers, I have been neglected the main duty of being a blogger, which is to enlighten the world with meaningless gibberish about my loser life. Admittedly, it's hardly worth anything in terms of entertainment value (it fills me with more excitement than watching Newsnight, but only just), but several important events are coming up that are impossible for me to avoid, so I had no choice but to write it all down.

So several events are going to occur in the near future which might render me unable to write, or motivate me to write more (I'm not sure how it's going to turn out at the moment). Here are the several factors that will prevent me writing often from now on:

As you may or may not know, the blog has a guess writer. The lazy bastard hardly wrie anything at all (2 posts in like a month) which has dissapointed me greatly. He clearly does not share the vision I possess so this has depressed me greatly. (I'm not sure what relevance this has the the post but it had to be mentioned, just to shame the lazy git)

The GCSE Mocks are looming. This will probably tie me up for a few weeks time due to revision. Before that time, I will probably put up a half-decent post and keep that on for a about a week. (I may write a post about the Mocks now that I think about it)

PayPerPost have rejected me for the umptienth time... What motivation do I have to write if I'm not getting paid for it?

Medieval 2: Total War - The game has consumed my life. I have lost all will to write and have instead found it far more entertaining to go online and pwn n00bs. Usual service will resume once I get bored of the game.

I'm still not quite sure what the point of this post was, since no one will be interested enough (or have enough understanding) to bother reading it. It reminds me why I post on current affairs and stuff and not my fun-filled life; because no one cares and it's shit.