Hold The Marinara, Aerial Or Otherwise

« September 2005 »

I'm warning you right now, this is going to sound awful.

It's going to sound petty, and small, and like sour grapes from a no-audience motherfucker who couldn't create a meme even if he wanted to. But I have to say this anyway, have to raise the banner and see how many tag along.

The line for the Official Spaghetti Monster Backlash starts right here, behind me.

I'm sorry. As much as I hate creationists, as much as I love mocking creationists, the next son of a bitch that mentions that pastabeast to me is getting the Johnny Cage nut-punch, Jack Thompson be damned. I have never gotten that sick, that fast, of any trendy Net meme.

If you've heard of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, you know what I mean. And if you haven't heard of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, you'll probably be sending the website to the rest of us in the next couple of days. I hate to say it, because you all mean well, but I've got to get out ahead of the hatecurve on this one.

It's not that it's not clever. It is. And it's not that it's not funny. It is. And that's fine. We need more clever funny things in the world. But it's not helping.

It's the liberal version of the American tourist thinking that if they just talk slowly and loudly enough, the French waiter will suddenly comprehend that you would like the chef to make you a Taco Supreme. The only people who get it are the other American tourists at the next table.

People always do this. They always start with the "If we teach Christian creation, then we have to teach Hindu creation and Native American creation and the Flying Spaghetti Monster, because they're all just creation myths."

It seems like a good argument, but you know, if it actually fucking worked, we wouldn't be staring at Kansas and weeping in the year 2005, would we? We would not. The very fact that the argument is on a fancy modern website is a priori evidence that it don't mean shit.

You've heard it here before, but you're not going to convince true believers that all those heathen superstitions are on par with their One Truth. They don't think that way. They don't really think at all. Your clever little gotcha sails over their heads while they get their Marching Morons elected to your school board. You're fiddling with fettucine while science burns.

It's very telling that he's gotten responses from the Kansas school board... but only from the three supporters of evolution. The rest are not taking him seriously. He has no cause. And all the cute pictures ain't gonna make one single creationist question their position for a millisecond.

And I know it's traditional, but from one provider of Net content to another, must Mr. Henderson be such a tacky whore? The occasional CafePress T-Shirt is one thing, but donations to "support the cause"? A plea for someone to hire him for a real job, right in the middle of the main page? Call me a snob if you must, but know that each one of these loving, hand-crafted missives, every one typed with both pinkies delicately fucking extended, has at least been free of desperate pleas for money, fame, or a replacement for the day job. I may not be above turning that shit down, but I'm above begging for it.

And then there's the audience. Nerds can't let it be. Nerds gotta run it into the fucking ground. Writing up your own little fanficcy "encounters" and expanding the fake religion. You're not helping either. It's fine if you just want to be a part of a netfad, but don't fool yourself in the slightest.

Maybe I'm just a cranky old fucker whose cynicism blinds him to the joy of the spaghetti monster. But this shit is important, and chuckling leftie circlejerks are not the answer.