The Genesis of the 82nd Skeptics' Circle

Note: The following account is meant to be taken literally. Unbelievers will be persecuted. This also means that there are no misspellings, only new standard spellings. Neener.

In the beginning, there was Saint Nate.

And Saint Nate moved over the waters in the void…Where’d the waters come from, I’d like to know. What, was Creation a “work in progress”? Was God the second contractor? Anyway, I getteth off the point.

And Saint Nate looked upon the face of deep, deep woo and saw that it was bad. And Saint Nate spoke: “Let there be a Skeptics’ Circle,” and Saint Nate separated the woo from the evidence and he called the evidence “Evidence” and called the woo, unsurprisingly, “Woo.”

Sunrise, sunset. The first Skeptics’ Circle.

After strategically setting down fossils of extinct animals just to mess with Darwinians, Saint Nate sent into the world His Son, Orac, so that He might rest. In Tahiti.

And the Skeptics’ Circle was fruitful and multiplied like a jackrabbit on speed in the Navy during shore leave.

Sing, Bing, of the wrath of Evolved at Evolved and Rational, and “The Problem of Evil (Spirits),” which is not about Brennevin.

Carve Archaeoporn-ographic images into the brains of the unworthy: Moses supposes his toeses are escargotses, since he apparently smokeses the roses!

Weave words, Dubious Toad, regarding the Tower of Creationist Babble and tell tales of the Digital Cuttlefish and his rhyming IDiot-Scientist dictionary.

Tell the parable of Christian at Free Thinking Joy, the boy who got his head caught between the rails of theism and atheism in the banister of logic.

Unlock your word-hoard, o Word Hoarder, and let escape the Bay of Fundie so that he might make rude gestures in the direction of those who stare directly at eclipses. (Warning: there may be a bare bottom, or to use a kenning, trouser-globes.)

The power of Christ compels you to spill thy beans regarding the coming battles in Europe between good and evil as foretold in the Bad Idea Blog. And do not forget the extra bonus Bad Idea about CNN Repeating a Lizard-Man Myth.

Regale us, o bulgy-eyed one, with tales of the struggle between the champion Greta Christina, whose oration on theistic and atheistic moralities drew on Steven Pinker, and of her nemesis Gadfly, at The Philosophy of the Socratic Gadfly, who wrote “Pinkers—Like Brother Like Sister in Quasi-Junk Science.”

Affix magnetic poetry to the forehead of Evil Bender so that he might sing the folksong of rage at the servile, quote-mining wretches at Uncommon Descent.

Do not pause for breath as you croak melodiously about superstitious politicians at PodBlack Blog.

Mercilessly inflict knowledge about bogus energy cures for multiple sclerosis, fed to you in delicious little spoonfuls by Holford Watch.

Prepare the song about Aardvarchaeology for when you appear on the Falun Gong Show.

Sing the glories of tkingdoll at Skepchick, the beauteous queen of Troy, who, the legend goes, had a face that sank a thousand ships, and of her funny but “plain” friend (in the Hollywood sense—think Uma Thurmon in The Truth About Cats and Dogs), Elyse.

May the muse sweetly slap around your tongue as you elocute eloquently about the Sydney Skeptics driving the frauds back into their temples at the TANK Vodcast.

Ogle lecherously as the Blue Collar Scientist pats the behind of silliness (in this case, Nobel Laureate in Medicine Jenny McCarthy).

If you must, you might as well plug your own paltry contribution to the Skeptics’ Circle on using skepticism to teach writing and argument to freshmen, but don’t expect anyone to read it, you tedious bedsore. You might also want to mention that your contest to reward the first person who is able to hoax the "peer"-"reviewed" "journal" at Answers in Genesis is still open to anyone but Alan Sokal. It’s time to let other people to have a chance, Alan.

Babble happily, o slippery-assed pond-rat, about PAL, MD at WhiteCoat Underground, taking it to HIV-denialists, who, depressingly, exist. And get that man an Aleve!

Vocalize, uh, vocally about the follicle fallacies exposed by Mike, who is not just the owner of Hyphoid Logic, but also a member!

Hold on! I’m getting a name. It starts with a “C,” a “C” or an “M.” Yes, I can most definitely say that it starts with a C or an M. Or possibly an S…Skelliot! Skelliot’s Weblog! Skelliot, did you write a post about chiropractors? Because I think you have before…well, that’s what I’m picking up on, but think about it and I think you’ll find you did. But it was certainly about Holocaust denial, right…? Eh, and that’s a definite no, is it? Because… Oh, you wrote about crummy TV psychics. That was my next guess, er, I mean, I knew that. ‘Cause I’m psychic, you see.

Lie in ambush, o amphibious bane of bugs, for Andrea’s Buzzing About and would make a delectable morsel if the logic she exposes were not so…unpalatable…difficult to swallow…gag-tastic… (You get the idea.)

In 600 words or less, announce the sentence passed on How Mumbo-Jumbo Conquered the World, as judged by Ionian Enchantment.

Tell the nice people the one about homeopathic drugs that you heard from Skeptico.

Everybody wants to stop you from telling how Journey through a Burning Mind spoke the truth about homeopathic conspiracies, but they can’t because you had the presence of mind to wear a fetching tinfoil chapeau.

Lecture lengthily, o bufotoxin-secreting party animal, on the research regarding Respitrol, as compiled by the peerless Skeptical Alchemist.

Get your biblical proclamation on as the prophet One Brow metes justice out to the wicked residents of the City of Woo.

Hear me well, friends: The end is near! (And not just the end of the blog!) Repent! Send money! The end times will be heralded by the coming of the horned creature who, it is foretold, will rule over the Skeptics’ Circle with an iron fist for an age and a day (or two weeks, whichever comes first) starting March 28th, Mike at Mike’s Weekly Skeptic Rant.

Eagerly awaiting Saint Nate’s return from Tahiti.

HJ