rhymes with australopithecus


It’s been another scorcher here this week – last night at the farm, we sweltered through wind chills of 27 below zero, frigid enough that basic shit stopped working. Sometimes it seems so cold that I’m surprised that our cell phones work, that the microwaves actually get through that air and make it to the antenna towers.

Getting over this throat infection took the wind out of my sails for nearly five days now, making each step a little more laborious, the invisible chain mail jacket of lethargy weighing a few pounds heavier. I’m finding that political issues are really getting to me again: to whit, ABC News reported that 61% of Americans believe the biblical story of creationism as actual truth.

I could go on a rant about this, and in fact had a juicy one planned up, but I’m recovering, and news like this makes me feel so inexorably sad. I seems like it’s just a matter of time before all the thugs take over, and the few innocent men and women of science and truth are given swirlies so bad that they drown head-down in the toilet of superstitious bullshit. Weren’t we supposed to be working towards a greater understanding of the world around us?

It’s times like these, glaring into the the dark maw of Bush’s second inauguration, that the concept of Coastopia stops being a clever, sarcastic idea and becomes the only life raft I can hold onto. I need to believe there is a rich, full community out there that takes science seriously. My Mormon uncle tells us that dinosaur bones were put on Earth by God to test our faith – is that what 61% of the country thinks of Java Man and Lucy?

I look out on the skyline of Manhattan and pray that although we live in an Age of Morons, that our city is not. Oh Manhattan, home of anti-folk, gay riots, performance art, the Rose Planetarium and trannie waitresses: please, my darling, tell me, may I not count you among the 61 percent?


at sunset today, 2 degrees Fahrenheit