Joined: Jan. 2006
|Quote (argystokes @ Oct. 04 2006,11:25)|
|When I read that little essay, a beautiful scene emerged in my mind:|
|Dembski stood beneath the oak, smirking and delighting in the admiration of his young apprentices. Just as he was about to recommend his latest book for purchase, he saw a short man wearing sunglasses and a dark blue T-shirt approaching.|
"Away with you, Heddle," said Dembski. "You do not belong amongst these ID luminaries." Dembski, upon seeing that he was in fact only surrounded by the likes of Salvador Cordova and Gil Dodgen, quickly pulled out his personal mirror to stare at his reflection.
Heddle cast aside his sunglasses, revealing a light of determination in his aging eyes. But he did not reply.
Dembski became wary, and he thought he could hear music coming from the skies. As the silent Heddle stalked closer, the music became louder. Dembski recognized it as The Battle Hymn of the Republic. It grew louder.
"Don't you dare approach me," Dembski admonished. "Please take your message to my research assistant."
"That's me!" an eager Joel chimed in. Dembski glared.
As Heddle grew near Dembski, he reached behind himself. Sparkling in the sunlight, a golden cross the length of a golf club and as thick as Dembski's wrist appeared in the now upraised hand of Heddle. The music became thunderous, and a chorus of angels could be heard singing, "MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD!"
Dembski went pale.
HE IS TRAMPLING OUT THE VINTAGE WHERE THE GRAPES OF WRATH ARE STORED
Heddle raised the cross above his head with both hands.
HE HATH LOOSED THE FATEFUL LIGHTNING OF HIS TERRIBLE SWIFT SWORD
Heddle swung the cross. Gil, Joel, Sal, and the others looked on in horror, but could not move.
HIS TRUTH IS MARCHING ON!
The blow connected with Dembski's face, lifting him from the ground. As he flew through the air, the voices thundered:
GLORY, GLORY HALLELUJAH!
OK, it's a little violent, but keep in mind that all these people are two-dimensional images to be, so it should be imagined as cartoon-like.
That was the most beautiful prose I have ever read here. I went through a whole box of Kleenex. Onward Christian soldiers!
Uncommon Descent is a moral cesspool, a festering intellectual ghetto that intoxicates and degrades its inhabitants - Stephen Matheson