Poor Mojo's Newswire

. . . Perry described evolution as "a theory that is out there," telling a young child questioning him that "it's got some gaps in it." That's why, he said, "in Texas we teach both creationism and evolution in our public schools. Because I figure...because I figure you're smart enough to figure out which one is right." There's just one problem with that: in 1987 the Supreme Court ruled that teaching creationism in public schools is an unconstitutional violation of the Establishment Clause. The decision in Edwards vs. Aguillard helped inspire the Intelligent Design movement. In the 7-2 decision, the majority opinion contained a caveats: "We do not imply that a legislature could never require that scientific critiques of prevailing scientific theories be taught [and] teaching a variety of scientific theories about the origins of humankind to schoolchildren might be validly done with the clear secular intent of enhancing the effectiveness of science instruction." . . .

What is glurge? Think of it as chicken soup with several cups of sugar mixed in: It's supposed to be a method of delivering a remedy for what ails you by adding sweetening to make the cure more appealing, but the result is more often a sickly-sweet concoction that induces hyperglycemic fits. In ordinary language, glurge is the sending of inspirational (and supposedly "true") tales, ones that often conceal much darker meanings than the uplifting moral lessons they purport to offer or undermine their messages by fabricating and distorting historical fact in the guise of offering a "true story." Many of us, it seems, cannot overcome the urge to glurge.

It's the Renaissance, stupid. The economy is not what ails us today. No, what ails Americans is what Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and their artistic spawn have wrought in the culture, starting 500 years ago. The Renaissance has dragged us all down. Tea party queen and Republican presidential candidate Michele Bachmann is convinced that America is sinking into tyranny. Why? In a remarkable profile of the candidate appearing in the Aug. 15 issue of the New Yorker magazine, the artistic flowering of the Italian Renaissance takes a beating for having done away with the god-fearing Dark Ages. Bachmann "belongs to a generation of Christian conservatives whose views have been shaped by institutions, tracts, and leaders not commonly known to secular Americans, or even to most Christians," writes Ryan Lizza, who spent four days on the campaign trail talking with the candidate and her husband. He chronicles Bachmann's enthusiasm for the extreme evangelical teachings of the late Presbyterian Pastor Francis Schaeffer, commonly regarded as having sparked the 1970s rise of the Christian Right. Schaeffer loved visiting Florence, Italy, where his idea of Renaissance ruin is on full display. Bachmann also adores Schaeffer follower Nancy Pearcey, a prominent creationist whose recent book is "Saving Leonardo: A Call to Resist the Secular Assault on Mind, Morals, and Meaning." That's Leonardo as in "da Vinci," whose famous drawing of "Vitruvian Man" shows a human being inscribed within a perfect circle and a perfect square. The artist made the ungodly error of putting humanity at the center of time and space. . . .