A Wrong, Bad Book

(All quotes and images copyright 2001 Ken Ham, and are used for purposes of review. All art by Earle and Bonnie Snellenberger.)

Oh, yard sales, what wanton agents of fortune you are. I have been looking at this book for the last six months, trying to figure out how to write about it. The problem is that it's hilarious.

Ken Ham is a young Earth creationist. He argues that the Bible is literally true, and consistent with the fossil record, and that dinosaurs have lived alongside man until very recently.

Every single page presents one with a worldview so patently deranged that reading it is like being slapped with a rubber chicken over and over again. Nothing about it isn't funny.

Except that it's presented to children as fact, with the promise of Heaven and the threat of Hell held over them as a goad to belief.

I am an atheistic materialist. I find this is the only worldview that is both internally consistent and congruent with observed reality. I do not object specifically to the existence of religion, although I regard it as a sign that humans are not perfect thinking machines. I will say grace, I will attend church if invited, I will pray alongside the faithful when it is important to them. My feelings about religion are mixed. I state this up front so as to make my perspective clear.

Let me tell you something. If nothing else, living under the Bush administration taught me something about the banality of evil. This book features evil whose banality has gone baroque, and it announces itself as clearly as the hard buzz of a rattlesnake.

Young people often ask the question, "If there's so much evidence for the Flood all over the earth, and if it's so obvious God created, and the Bible is true, wouldn't the scientists surely believe these things?"

The answer is that scientists, like everyone else, are sinners. Because of this, they don't want to believe. It has nothing to do with the evidence. (Use of bold taken from text.)

If you are an adult, and you find, "Because I said so, and only bad people argue" convincing, you are an idiot. If you find the blanket condemnation of scientists as willfully-ignorant sinners acceptable, you are contemptible. But if you hear this when you're a kid, and your critical faculties haven't been developed, well.

In the future, the US will be able to look to Mr. Ham and say, "He helped keep our children away from science." I do not believe that will be regarded as a good thing. Mr. Ham is militating for a stupider nation.

I am not going to do a point-by-point refutation of Mr. Ham's position. I simply shrug, and say, "Geology, biology, paleontology, astronomy, chemistry, and physics all view the world the same way, and they work. You don't have the integrity to keep your own story straight, so not only is everything you say wrong, it isn't even wrong from a conceptually valid stance. Nothing you say is correct once you drift from the idea that people should be nice. Arguing with you is like braiding worms, and I will not do it."

I am going to engage in a bit of humor at the expense of Mr. Ham and the Snellenbergers. But as I do, please understand that I've imagined being a small child, and having the minister I have heard speaking with authority on the subject of sin and the fate of sinners come to me with this book.

I'm thinking about how much larger the minister is then I am. I imagine cologne, and warmth from his body as he sits next to me. This is a man of authority. He shows me a picture --

Take a close look at that gorilla. The single most important goal of this book? Get teeth wrong. Every damned time they show or mention a tooth? They get it wrong. Oh, and it's Eden so of course lemons are delicious. What kind of dummy are you, anyway?

-- and tells me that the only reason anyone would disbelieve it is that they are sinners and they choose not to believe.

What happens if I laugh? I don't know. But there is no way this situation could ever work to the benefit of the child.

I wanted to make this clear before I start with the haw-haw -- I am not belittling Mr. Ham when I mock his beliefs. Rather, I fear and despise the power he has over the lives of others.

He may be a good man. He may be, in the balance, a good father. But to present a child with this kind of cognitive dissonance is damaging, and worthy of strong rebuke, and I cannot find it in me to respond to this book and its mindset with anything but condemnation.

I understand that religion is the most important form of folk culture in the world, that the intellectual tradition springs from religion, that it is an important force for social organization. But it is the easiest way in the world for someone to simply claim a position of authority and begin exercising power and...

... remember what I said about the banality of evil?

Anyway.

Click on this image for madness. QED, motherfuckers.

What I love about this diagram? The implication that there is no problem here, see? They fit!

Now, the myth of the ark makes sense if you only know about a couple of dozen types of large animal, but by the time you take the world into account -- how many types of tapir are there, anyway? -- you have to start getting into some serious handwaving to get it to make sense, and our boy Ham here decides fuck it, pedal to the metal, we're including the entire fossil record as well. All of it.

Do you think he has a little cart in which to carry his balls, or do attendants bear them in a sling?

Is is just me, or does that kid have a holster? What kind of Bible-science bullets does it shoot? Or is it a zap gun? Probably a zap gun. This is all so exciting!

What's cute is the way Ham hates science so much he's going to reclaim silver jumpsuits for the faith. And the Biblical control panel is a concept resistant to speculation -- what happens when you turn the knobs? Maybe it adjusts Leviticus so you can stone people you don't like without having to eat kosher.

And let's take a moment to notice the semi-competent art. I bet the Snellenbergers have taken classes, maybe even have a degree or two between them. But the stiff, clumsy, vaguely ugly quality of the illustration is of a piece with the text.

When religious belief takes on a quality of grandeur, when it truly does exalt the human spirit, then it's hard for me not to get swept up in the moment. But this book shows a world without wonder -- flat words and images have condemned it to a sort of folding-chair spirituality, a cafeteria of the soul, a holy linoleum.

Okay, start at Babel, head North, and then turn left when you get to the white part.

I'll give them this much. I like this one. The idea of a polar pack-Pachycephalosaur is genuinely charming, in a crack-brained way.

I can't tell you how much pleasure and concern this terrible, terrible book has brought me. But interestingly, it has also led me to perform a dangerous act only to have my faith in mankind renewed.



These horses show up over and over again in the background of illustrations in this book, and they are never given a name. Actually, they aren't horses. The only type of living wild horse is Przewalski's horse, and these aren't those.

My current thought is that these are a Snellenberger's concept of a quagga. But the question of their identity was really bugging me. So I did the only Google search that I thought might give me some solid information. It was also the single riskiest search for images I've done since Harlequin ichthyosis.

"Wild ass images."

Of course my fear was getting into the eyebleach zone with scat porn at best and having my understanding of human sexuality expanded at worst. There are reasons the Internet age is also the age of hand sanitizers -- after the things we see, the entire world seems filthy.

But in this case?

Zebras, onagers -- wild asses. The ones I was looking for. The first screen I called up was entirely crazy little horsies of one kind or another.

I actually responded emotionally to the moment. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel crappy if I run across a picture of a cute butt on the net, but the idea that I could get clean results from that search seemed nothing short of miraculous. Perhaps I sensed the hand of God at work, a kinder God than one who'd put an old drunk on a boat with a bunch of fucking dinosaurs.

I didn't go to the second screen. Why tempt fate?

5 Pretentionist Statements

I'm posting this in honor of Stegosaurus Week at Dinosaur Tracking. Here's Day One, here's Day Two.

Rob Pierce, my partner in culture-crime, recently sent me an email that touched on a number of creative issues that have been occupying my mind recently. I suggested that he post it on his blog and I respond; he agreed.

And I spent the next few days scratching my head, trying to figure out how to make the unified statement that seemed to be lurking in the underbrush. That statement has yet to emerge, so I'm going to give you a point-by-point response. In reverse. Because every day is backwards day.

Note that these are responses. Not replies or rebuttals. I agree with what Rob says, but he made me think of other things. Where I come from, we call that a conversation.

Anyway.

1. One of many lessons I've learned from scriptwriting is that writing is an intermediary. A conduit. There is the experience, imagined or remembered, that is the writer's. There is an experience stimulated by the writing, and that is the audience's. The writing itself is the means by which the one experience stimulates the other, and while the beauty of words is a worthy goal in itself, I prefer to make it subservient to function.

Without purpose and function, there can be no strength.

2. The medium always affects the nature of the st0ry you tell. For me the main issues are A) what information is given to the reader as direct sensory input, and what is evoked, and B) is it or is it not a time-binding medium?

Movies and music both give direct sensory input as their primary expression, and movies subsume music. And both are time-bound -- they force you to experience them at a determined pace, over a determined length of time.

Prose is my preferred form, because it maximizes evocation and minimizes time binding. A skilled prose reader and writer working in conjunction create an experience that involves all the sensual and intellectual capacities in a way that no other form can approach. In execution it is the most limited of art forms; in experience, the least. It offers far and away the widest set of limits of any form.

That said, it's all good. As I mention above, the limitations offered by other forms can be brought to writing to good effect. I mean, I say I want a playing field with as few limits as possible, but art thrives on limits.

3. I think this is an excellent example of the difference between story and plot. The story is the same; it's the way it's told that makes the difference. Now I feel like checking all the Kaspar Hauser variants out.

4. The social elements of the arts are always of interest -- especially since just about everyone I care to spend time with is creatively active one way or another. (I'll be honest. I like and respect everyone I deal with on a regular basis, but I really only want to spend time with intelligent, funny, creative people. Bottom line. That's why I have so much trouble with mental illness in my social circle, but that's another story.)

For me, music is specifically social. I play music as a way of spending time with people. And the visual arts are solitary. I can do them in a classroom or a public space, but when I'm doing them, I'm on my own. Although my recent sketching sessions have been pretty conversational.

But here's where our experiences diverge. When I started writing, it was in English class in high school. Then Creative Writing in college. The same in junior college. Then scriptwriting, where I worked with anywhere from two to eight people at any given time. Then to writing groups, where I was asked to participate in magazines. Then writer's workshops.

I mean, I spend a hell of a lot of time sitting in my room writing or drawing. Do you see me talking about all the social activities drawing has gotten me involved in? Tell you something. I've done some damned good drawings trying to get away from people.

Writing is an essentially social activity for me. And I think that part of whatever it is I got is that I include the reader in that social circle -- 0r, rather, I write as if I'm writing to someone I know.

5. Got to say, as a bassist, the idea that the bass is an instrument that reacts seems a bit off. My experience is that the bass forms a skeleton. The bassist ain't always going to be the one who decides what the bass line is, but once that's set? Everyone else follows the bass and drums.

And I know that somewhere in there is a fine, fine crystal of Pretentionist thought. But now? I cannot find. And so I go forth, weltering in my own hyper-aesthetesized intellectualism.

Whee!

Trilobite!

I believe I may have neglected to send you to the latest Art Evolved extravaganza, The Trilobite Gallery. Go on, check it out.

Platypterygius longmani 9

There we go. This afternoon's tasks had me intimidated, but everything fell into place nicely. Unless I'm mistaken, this is the finished piece, awash with the tang of the briny deep.

Platypterygius longmani 8

Well, taking the butterfly wings out of the coral didn't take as long as I thought it would, and why do simple descriptions of everyday tasks sound so weird?

Anyway.

I thought this was going to be a real trial, but then I figured out a shortcut. The shortcut inadvertently shifted the color relations between the background and the ichthyosaur in exactly how I was going to do it anyway. (Notice how the fins are just about the same color as the coral? The way the gray subtly harmonizes with the background?) That saved me a good chunk of work right there. One more color adjustment and then I'm done with it.

Platypterygius longmani 7

So here's the final rendering and placement of the main figure.

The next step is going to be to modify the coral directly behind the figure. There are traces of the initial figure remaining that need to be obscured and made to fit the current composition. I'll do this using blending tools in Painter.

Next, the color on the ichthyosaur needs to be modified to fit in with the rest of the composition. This, and the rest of the piece, will be done in Photoshop.

Finally, the overall color needs to be made more oceanic and more dense -- the sense of light should be stronger as well. I may experiment with using a Curves adjustment layer for some of this...

Plus? Tonight I get barbecue... Further details to come.

Platypterygius longmani 6

Here we go, fully rendered in Painter. At first I was horrified when I realized that I didn't have the colors saved from my first round of renders -- but then I found that the rubber stamp tool was my friend. Thank you, rubber stamp tool. You're a good pal.

Honestly? I've never rendered this well in a painterly fashion before. This is turning out to be a bit of a breakthrough piece...

And now on to the final composite, background finishes, and color correction!

Platypterygius longmani 5

On inspection, this needs more rendering...

But let's get an idea of how it looks. I'm going to want to punch up the color and brighten the highlights, but this is definitely starting to go somewhere.

Platypterygius longmani 4

And there we go. That's it for today; I'm bushed. This one was intended to be a simple demonstration of the selections I've made this evening, but it kind of got out of hand when I started playing with filters in Photoshop.

Platypterygius longmani 2

Here's the graphic illustration, done in Illustrator using Live Trace and Live Paint functions.

Platypterygius longmani 1

The next challenge up at Art Evolved is an ichthyosaur. Well, here we go! I'm going to spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening liveblogging this project. I hope -- perhaps in vain -- to have two finished art pieces by the end of the session.

One will be a simple graphic based on this sketch; the other will be a fully rendered piece. I've already done most of the work for the latter; all I have to do is adjust colors and render the beast.

And just for the record; this is not intended to be a rigorous reconstruction; rather, it's art derived from the fossil. For instance, the spine flexes up and down in this illustration, and I doubt ichthyosaurs did much of that. Oh, well, it's what my hand and eye did.

This was done in pencil on tracing vellum, then cleaned up in Photoshop.

See you soon...

Apatosaurus Louisae 10

There we go. Now the background has a little something going on, and it sets the figure off properly. That's it. This time I'm really done.

I swear.

Apatosaurus louisae 9

Okay, I lied. I needed to fiddle with it some more -- the background was simultaneously oversaturated and boring. It failed to support the figure. But now I'm done. Really. I swear.

Now I'll go take a shower, and wait to play bass.

Apatosaurus louisae 8

Now that's more like it! I'm calling her done. Now I won't have to suffer paleo-guilt the way I did when I blew my Anomalocaris!

And I've got to say. How on earth do people who work in traditional media cope with the issues involving these kinds of fine-tuning? It would drive me mad.

Now I need to work on the Pretensionist manifesto. You heard me; I've finally decided to start my own fucking movement.

Apatosaurus louisae 7

I finally got a few minutes (well, a couple of hours) to finish this off. I did a modified photographic background; it sucked, so I stuck with the simple gradient.

It's entirely possible that I'll wind up feeling unsatisfied with this, but for now? It'll do.

Newsflash -- I'm not satisfied with the color. It looks washed-out to me. I'll spend some time on adjustments soon. Maybe.

Apatosaurus louisae 6

The initial stages of color...

Finally!

Apatosaurus loiusae 5

Here's the digitally inked version. Now for some color.

Apatasourus louisae 3

Tomorrow I'll 'ink' this in Illustrator, then take it over to Photoshop for coloring. It came out better than I expected; the color's gonna help a lot.

That's it for today; now I'm off to go up to Telegraph and hang with my buddy Aubrey for a while.

Apatosaurus louisae 2

Next up: the finished pencil drawing.

Setting up this stereo was a good idea; Zappa, Louis Jordan, Brian Eno, Roger Miller, and Jimmy Cliff have helped keep me on track.

But.

The CD player is definitely screwed up. But I think there's another unit in the shed I could use instead. I'll check it out tomorrow.

Wish I knew where my tapes were. Remember tapes?

Apatosaurus louisae 1

Time to liveblog another piece of art. Stay tuned for periodic updates over the afternoon. Of course I haven't put the drool in yet. You think I'm kidding? There will be drool.

So I got a late start today. It's a Sunday, and I played music until late last night. I also spent some time this morning setting up my (seemingly defective) yard sale stereo. The CD player makes these little hiccupy pauses from time to time; maybe if I level it things will improve.

But I knew I had to at least get started on this. I may or may not finish it today; I've got to call it quits by four-thirty. But I've at least got a start.

So I figured I'd do something nice and simple to compensate for my atrophied draftsmanship. Here's the head of an Apatosaurus louisae, drawn from a photograph of CM 11162 that I found in Glut's Dinosaurs: The Encyclopedia. I know we don't get to call it Brontosaurus anymore, but this is still my first sauropod.

Now to firm up the details.