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THE EARTH DOESN'T MOVE
Grade school science classes are wonderful things. Just kidding — they're packed full of lies. Parents enroll their kids, ignorant of the gigantic hoax that awaits. When the school year begins, the children enter the classroom with nothing but smiles on their sweet angelic faces, but leave with absurd notions like "water freezes at 32°F," and "plants and animals are biological organisms made up of cells."
Who can forget that old chestnut: "The Sun is the center of our Solar System"? Of course this is absolute foolishness, but if we're honest with ourselves, we'll admit that we believed it at one time or another. While we're thankful for being rescued from such idiocy, we must be concerned for future generations. Do we want sons and daughters that think the Earth actually moves?
Listed below are three scientific proofs. They provide all the ammunition you need to combat the cohorts of darkness (ie. grade school science teachers).
Proof #1
Clomp... clomp... clomp....
Hey Murray James... why does it look like you soldered two cinder blocks together and then stuck them where your leg should be?
For years now, people have asked me this question. I try and be understanding. Maybe they're not used to someone making loud clomping sounds when they walk. Maybe they're concerned I'll scratch their hardwood floor. Or maybe they're geniunely curious why my left leg has been replaced with two giant cinder blocks. I try not to jump to conclusions, but it sucks to be asked all the time.
Usually, I deflect attention to something else. "Look at my eyes instead. They're beautiful," I say, or "Have you seen the new Marlon Brando picture? Someone told me he's dead, but I don't believe it. If he's dead, then how is he still making movies?"
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That worked for a while, at least until the rumors started. Ordinary people can cope with that sort of thing, but not me; the frenetic activity at the rumor mill is deafening to my ears. Sure rumor-stock is as high as it's ever been, and is selling at hundreds of dollars per rumor-share, but I'm losing my rumor-sanity, spending half of every rumor-day rumor-throwing myself into the padded walls of the psychiatric rumor-ward. To stop the madness, I've decided to take the advice of my mental health professional, Ian Stapp, and finally tell my story.
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Proof #2
At the tender age of thirteen, I was at the top of my game. I had just released my first book under the pseudonym Buddy Lee, and was widely acknowledged as the foremost jump rope expert alive. One major milestone remained: the Guinness World Record for "Best Skipping Rope Guy."
I set up a meeting with the Guinness people, but when they arrived, they insisted I skip rope in the deepest part of South America's Amazon River. After several frustrating minutes spent trying to make just a single jump, I noticed a school of piranha swimming rapidly in my direction.
I panicked, but was miraculously saved as the fish chose instead to eat a cow that happened to be standing beside me. All the worst piranha stories are true. In mere seconds, I watched the beasts skeletonize the bovine savior before my very eyes.
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As the piranha finished their meal, two disgruntled protestors from the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals drove up on a jetski. Still quite shaken from the whole experience, I cried for assistance. "Please help me!"
One of the protestors eyed the floating animal remains. "Did you help the cow when she needed you most," he retorted, "or did you just tread water, thankful the piranha weren't after you instead? People like you make me sick."
There were a few moments of awkward silence, and then (for reasons I still can't figure out), the man from Guinness World Records chimed in, "No, no! The fish didn't kill the cow! This guy did! [pointing at me] He whipped it to death with that jump rope in his hand! I saw him do it!"
Two vigilante PETA protestors sharing a jetski...
...and a body, apparently
"Murderer!" shouted the protestor, cackling maniacally, his face twisted into a sick grimace of wrath. He revved the jetski and attacked me with it, hitting me directly and severing my left leg.
While the protestors made a speedy getaway, I paddled to dry land, barely conscious. By now, nearly everyone was gone. I collapsed on the shore, and the man from Guinness World Records come up to me. "Sorry about all that, mate." He dropped two cinder blocks and a soldering iron on the ground, and left. But he took back the skipping rope. Jerk.
Proof #3
So the other day, I was clomping around town, and a toddler signalled to me. "Hey, you! I need to put my car on blocks. Can you help me out?"
The kid was obviously too young to drive, and I told him so. This sparked a heated argument with the child's overbearing, contentious mother. She accused me of being self-absorbed, saying, "The Earth doesn't revolve around you, you know. It revolves around the Sun."
I was furious, but instead of acting out in anger, I looked at the bracelet on my wrist and thought, "What Would Pope Urban VIII Do?"
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So I asked her to defend her heretical Copernican thought, and over the course of six visits, she did. Convinced of the biblical soundness of geocentrism, I nevertheless indulged her apostate scientific musings and invited her to write a book presenting both theories of planetary motion. To her own dishonor, she ridiculed the position of both Rome and the precious Scriptures, and in 1633, the treacherous wench was apprehended, tried, and found guilty of promoting her heterodox views.
Don't be impressed by the improvements she made to the telescope. It's not like she could've used it anyway — she was struck blind by an anathema from the holy Catholic Church.
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