[Note: This tongue-in-cheek article has also been posted at my home blog, 360 Degree Skeptic]
Imagine you have walked over miles of desert sands. You discover a pecan pie. The nuts are spread across the top in an obvious pattern, and the crust has a perfectly crimped edge. It is beautiful. And it smells divine. You conclude, nothing like this could have happened by chance. This pie must therefore have a baker.
The above is my proof that life on earth is not the result of random evolution but of a fulfilled recipe. In other words, where you find a pie, you will always discover a baker . . . unless of course, it is a Marie Calendar pie, in which case, where you find a pie in a cardboard box, you will discover a fully automated factory. But nevermind that.
Allow me to share the first book of my personal Bible. I call it, “The Genesis of Dessert.”
—
“This is not real coffee!” the Lord bellowed.
It was the first day, very early, and the Lord of my stomach had made coffee. The Lord had separated the coffee of darkness from the coffee of lightness. Upon sampling the light, he cried in disgust. Upon tasting the coffee of darkness, the pure breakfast beverage, he said, “now this is coffee. And it is good.”
The Lord then divided the Columbian from the beans Arabica, and he drove the lesser beans from the kingdom of the kitchen.
On the second day, the Lord separated the bagel from the English muffin. He sprinkled seeds of the earth, seeds of poppy and seeds of sesame, onto the bagel. He cleaved the bagel. And he toasted it.
The Lord took the whiteness that didn’t belong in the coffee, and he smote the whiteness. Behold, there was butter. The Lord spread the butter over the firmness of the bagel. And it was good.
During the third day, the Lord beheld a potato bun, and a chorus of angels sang. He divided the top half of the bun from the bottom. And it was so. And the Lord said, “let all the condiments be gathered together, and all the luncheon meats be gathered together, and all the luncheon cheeses be gathered together — but not American cheese, for it is the work of the devil.”
And the Lord brought forth from the fruit of the earth some lettuce, some tomato, and some red onion very thinly sliced. From this chaos the Lord fashioned a heavenly sandwich. And it was good enough to knock his socks off, had the Lord been wearing socks.
On the fifth day the Lord flossed his teeth. Upon his toothbrush he laid Super Tarter Control toothpaste. And he brushed. And he gargled.
On the sixth day the toaster became possessed. A great pillar of smoke arose and a vision of Julia Child appeared. Archangel Julia spoke unto The Lord, and he was moved. The Lord took dictation onto an index card. He recorded ten Culinary Commandments. Yay, now all would know the way to eternal . . . salivation.
The Lord searched far and wide for a place to enshrine the most holy index card. And then he knew. The Lord affixed the Commandments to his refrigerator with a kitty-cat magnet.
The Lord descended onto his lounge chair, and he reclined. During this seventh day, he rested.
And on this seventh day the beasts of the earth, the Broncos, took to the field of the chosen team, the Patriots of the air game. Saint Tebow was shewn no mercy, and was made feeble by the blitz. And the Denver run-option was kaput.
The Lord raised his hand and pressed a finger, and football was no more.
On the eighth day the Lord put away the dishes: he stacked the plates, he sorted the silverware, and he tossed the Tupperware into the cabinet and closed the door quickly, before it could topple back out.
And the Lord of my stomach spoke yet again. He proclaimed, “For those who follow my Commandments, there will be pie for dessert!”
—
[next week: the Ten Culinary Commandments revealed]
P.S. Biological life is nothing like pecan pie.
Sphere: Related Content
No Related Posts