National Geographic is absolutely erotic this month. I dare you to argue. Observe the cover. And observe the first page of the article. And observe my wild-eyed, unreasoning joy. Yes, it can be measured in the laboratory. Shut up. Yes, there is fossil evidence. Shut up. No, no one claims we evolved from present-day apes. Shut up. And yes, it's just a theory. And so is that whole "the Earth orbits the Sun" thing. Time out to look up the scientific definition of the word "theory," okay? Go on. I'll wait here. Got it? All done? Good. Shut up. The article didn't tell me anything I didn't already know, but I don't think it was written for me. It was written for the 44 percent of Americans who, through force of will, misinformation, or simple ignorance, don't actually understand evolution, or refuse to understand it. It's for the special class. This issue's for that kid who shit in the study hall garbage can. It's for the Young Earth Creationists among us going through their homeschooled kid's textbooks with black Sharpies, crossing out the blasphemy. This one's for the snake-handlers picketing the Harvey Milk school in New York, and the hysterical Baptists rolling around on the cement in front of courthouses while Ten Commandments monuments are jackhammered out of the lobby floor. I hope every Billy-Bawb in Dogpatch lets this issue sneak into the trailer, just for the cover. I just wish I could see all their faces when they sit down to read it. P
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