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?

In Which The Cold Nose Of Mystery Is Thrust Against My Flank

It was really hard to get this image to read clearly -- after I scanned the chicken skin it took me hours in Photoshop to clean things up. But I am saving the skin texture to use in some of my work...

So the missus has this dog, Amanda. She's an Australian Shepherd and a getaway dog -- she knows there's a wide world out there filled with garbage and cat food and other tasty treats. (Like this, for example -- it's a story, not an image, I promise. My mystery-writing buddy said a) it is actually a pretty good mystery story and b) it made him gag.)

We've been having trouble with the gate lately and yesterday the missus used her feminine wiles to get the next-door neighbor to help her fix the latch. (Why not me? Because the missus still hasn't made the connection between my years of experience as a janitorial and maintenance man and my ability to handle small household repairs. For reasons involving our delicate balance of power I am reluctant to enlighten her.)

Anyway. During the repair there was a moment of inattention and Amanda cut loose and headed out in search of something repulsive to eat. When I noticed I went out and looked for about twenty minutes before giving up.

And of course half an hour after that she was cavorting on the front porch. Watching her cavort is like watching me dance. It just ain't right -- it's like the passage of an evil star through the heavens. A bad omen.

Which is exactly what it was. Amanda wound up puking all over the kitchen floor, and once again it was hard to figure out what it was she'd been eating. Some kind of raw meat but I couldn't quite figure out what it was. My best bet is stewing hen.

If you touch the skin of a supermarket chicken it's soft and gelatinous. But if you get a cock or a stewing hen that's been out in the world running around and grubbing for bugs everything about the animal is different than you get from a store-bought chicken. The bones are harder, the meat more flavorful. And the skin has a texture that's tough and rubbery.

I found a patch of skin with that texture in the puke and while I was picking it up with a paper towel it sort of flopped over and there were some markings on it. I think they must have been a tattoo. So on a whim I took it up to the studio and scanned it in to see if I could pull out a readable image. As soon as the scan was done the skin went into the compost -- let's just say you don't want me to describe the way it smelled.

What I got was the picture at the top of the post. That and a dose of the weebs and the sound of ol' Bob Dylan's voice running through the back of my head --

Something's happening and you don't know what it is,
do you, Mr. Jones?

Jurassic Fight Club Epilog: Apologies, Clarifications, and Ponderings

Protoceratops andrewsi. He heard something and popped his head up out of the brush...

Note to self: Stop drawing 'em with their mouths open all the time.

Well, this Jurassic Fight Club thing has been a real eye-opener from an number of perspectives. As someone new to the blogging sphere it's given me my first taste of... well, fame certainly isn't the right word. Let's be optimistic and call it the start of an audience.

Here's how it worked for me. On Sunday I installed a hit counter and was surprised to see that there were five visitors and they'd seen eighteen pages. Wow. People are coming and they're actually reading stuff. Cool!

Then on Monday there were fourteen readers and then twenty-nine on Tuesday. This was the audience I was writing for at that point. I figured it was probably friends and relatives for the most part with a sprinkling of people I'd linked to and a few folks who got here through search engines.

Then yesterday I posted what I thought was the last piece on Jurassic Fight Club. A link went up over at Laelaps (see my blogroll) and all of a sudden the numbers started piling up. I had a brief idiot flicker of inspiration and posted links on the Jurassic Fight Club site.

Honestly, this started to feel like cheating -- like I was getting the hits not because of what I had to say but because I was talking about a TV show. By the end of the day I had a hundred and twenty-seven visitors look at two hundred and seventy pages. Mostly in-and-outs but here and there someone took a good chunk of time to look things over. And there were hits from A&E and Warner Bros...

And on the Jurassic Fight Club site a frustrated animator who had worked on the show posted a comment about the reviews that gave me pause to think. While he was kind enough to allow that he agreed with me about some of what I said it was pretty obvious that he had been offended -- offended to the point where he felt obliged to make a statement about the role of criticism in the arts. (And the popular arts are arts in my book.)

Here's where I make my apology. In my review I used some vulgarities in reference to the creators of the show. That was uncalled for and inappropriate and I will attempt to refrain from similar behavior in the future. I thought I was sitting around the living room sharing beers with some like-minded friends when in actuality I was standing on a soap box on a street corner. This may be my site but it is also a public forum and that does put me into a position of responsibility rather than license.

To those who were involved in Jurassic Fight Club, I apologize. I was rude and that was wrong.

So how would I have handled it differently if I'd considered the possibility that someone who worked on the show would see the review? I mean, aside from avoiding terms like 'dipshit.'

I wouldn't have come into it with a load of anxiety and resentment and used it as a means of blowing off steam. I would have focused more on what was right with the show. I would have been more clear about why I didn't like the aspects of the show that bothered me, even if it meant being a little harsh. And I would have been more specific in suggesting what could have been done to make the show more to my tastes. In other words, I would have written a critique rather than conducting a petulant frenzy.

So.

I find the concept of the show absolutely irresistible. The format of alternating interviews with researchers and animation is a good idea. While it doesn't go with the name I think that the decision not to limit scenarios to the Mesozoic was very solid. The people appearing on-camera are well-spoken and likable and while this has nothing to do with paleontology it makes for a more enjoyable viewing experience. And as I said in the earlier sections of the review there is some wonderful animation work here, notable not just for the animation but for the choice of shots, the lighting, the composition, and the use of focus.

My main issue with the show is the way that speculation is presented as fact. Given the audience for this show it's a genuinely irresponsible stance to take. Let me explain why I take this so seriously -- why this actually arouses an emotional response in me and in others.

So far as I can tell -- and this is speculation on my part -- this is the result of a little conceptual confusion in the show. It seems to have a hard time deciding if it's entertainment or education. And as a result the entertainment part of the show is presented on the same level as the more educational elements. If you do have present the show as educational there are responsibilities that go with that stance; to claim to represent scientific thought while dishing out fantasy is a form of dishonesty. If you do not clearly distinguish between fact and fancy the audience will have the same level of belief in both -- and when that happens you are not educating.

Right now science education in America is terrible. The average citizen's ignorance is frightening in that we live in a quasi-democracy and many of the conditions we have to think about have scientific aspect to them. Even non-scientific issues would benefit from the kind of rigorous rationality that science teaches. So to see something labeled as science when it isn't does have serious ramifications. I'm not saying you're destroying our nation -- but when you do this you are in a small way putting weight behind forces that are acting against all of our best interests. And that is something I take seriously.

And on a more simple level, to present speculation as fact is deceptive. It's dishonest. I am not arguing that the creators of JFC are dishonest -- but a lack of discipline here produces dishonesty. I don't think you want that.

Even at this point in production it is still possible to put a notice at the start of the show indicating that it is speculative, that there are a lot of unknowns, and that what is shown is by no means conclusive. This would not only be honest; it would also greatly reduce the amount of resentment directed at the show by those with a serious interest in science.

And while it's much too late, if another season is produced it would be wonderful if each speculation could be debated -- if we could hear the arguments against Gastonia cutting bone with scutes or pack hunting in maniraptorans as well as the arguments in favor. That would very effectively raise the credibility of the show.

This is the central source of antagonism toward the show that I've seen in the online communities I frequent. While the details of how the animals have been presented are occasionally frustrating (non-feathered maniraptorans with curled-up hands for instance) they would seem much, much less problematic if they were not presented as fact.

I honestly did have trouble with the writing on the show. I honestly did have trouble with the pacing, with the jump-cuts, with this that and the other thing. If I were to do a serious critique of the show -- the kind of thing I'd do at a table discussion if I were a member of the staff -- I'd also go over those in detail. But I ain't.

Now here's the quote the animator gave me in reaction to my pissing and moaning about JFC. It's from Ratatouille --

"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so." -- Anton Ego

There's truth to this but there's more to the question than that. Let's consider three aspects of criticism. First of is the simple opinion piece and I'd say the above quote fits the opinion piece neatly. An opinion piece is only of interest to those who share the opinion. And I am ashamed to say that what I wrote did have some big chunks of opinion piece in it. Mea culpa, and I'm going to try and avoid that in the future.

Next is the review -- this is useful to the consumer who can find a reviewer whose tastes are congruent with his own, or who is able to tell when someone's negative criticism indicates something he'd like. This is just barely removed from the opinion piece -- but it does serve a real function. Still, its only meaning for an artist is in how it affects his career -- an artist is right to be concerned about a bad review and wrong to be concerned about the reviewer's personal opinion.

Criticism is something else entirely. A critic is genuinely knowledgeable and works with the intent of furthering the art. (Oh, how I blush to describe dinosaur television as art -- but it is, it is!) And this is something an artist would do well to pay attention to. The best criticism is done by practitioners of the art. Ruskin, for example. While I disagree with much of what I've read by him it is still worthy of respect -- respect he has earned not simply through words and erudition but also through his drawings and paintings.

For an intuitive creator, one who is self-taught and self-motivated, even this level of critique can be damaging. But for the creator who studies and practices his skills, having one's work analyzed and commented on is an essential part of the process of education. And I speak from experience.

For years now I've sat down every Monday night and critiqued writing while having my writing critiqued. This is why my writing has improved. When I'm in an art class and I get a chance to find out how people respond to my work I learn. This is the level of critique I'm interested in receiving.

So if I write any more criticism I'm going to try and write at that level.

If.

Jurassic Fight Club Part Three: If I were in charge...

A small Hypsilophodont and some poorly researched cycads or tree ferns or whatever. Time to do more work on paleobotany.

So in an imaginary world where I was in charge of dinosaur programming, what would Jurassic Fight Club be like?

The shows would start with the paleontologists. After selecting a fossil fight (and I'm amazed that they didn't use the battlin' Protoceratops and Velociraptor), two paleontologists or small teams of paleontologists would study the data and come up with a hypothetical scenario that incorporates the actual evidence and a brief animated segment would be produced illustrating each of those scenarios.

And the paleontologists would be consulted regarding the reconstructions of the animals as well -- each team would generate their animation from scratch, including all digital models.

The scientists and artists involved would explain the reasons why they made their choices -- and they'd also explain why some of their conclusions are more likely than others. No speculation would be presented as fact. (I'm looking at you, 'Dinosaur' George!)

Each group would then review and critique the other's effort and sections from this could be intercut with the interviews previously made so as to provide a sense of give-and-take. "This is what I was thinking." "This is why he was wrong/why I wish I'd thought of it."

After that the two two teams would collaborate on a third version that would hopefully be more rigorous and/or creative than the first two. The goal here would be to show something about the nature of science and speculation, to show that science is a collaborative and ongoing effort, and to highlight the extremely speculative nature of dinosaur reconstruction. It is not a science -- it's an art form that interacts with science and that's something that a lot of people don't understand.

Oh, and something I forgot to bring up earlier. What I've enjoyed the most about Jurassic Fight Club has been the animation... which has been very, very spotty. I have seen some of the best and worst dinosaur animation ever in this thing.

And the trouble is that the best stuff is good for visual reasons rather than scientific ones. They're animated using a look that duplicates the effects of filmed/taped footage which adds considerably to their realism -- but a lot of the time there are details that seem just plain wrong. Giving theropods big overlapping scales, for instance, or showing them literally bounding. There's also some inconsistancy in setting the animals into the scene -- sometimes their imposition is painfully obvious.

And there are moments when the animation is bad. The Camarasaurs from the episode set in the Cleveland-Lloyd quarry were embarassing.

But every so often something on the screen seems to be alive and the animation seems as if something real were being photographed. A lot of the reconstructions are quite pleasing to behold and that's enough to keep me watching.

Jurassic Fight Club Part Two: Into the Maelstrom!

The best drawing I ever did was based on the same sketch I used for this. It was a scale-by-scale life-sized rendering done in graphite, ink, and Prismacolor. But because of its size I had to work standing up and my back had me bedridden twice by the time the neck was done. I wound up having to stop work on the damned thing just as I was getting to the fun part...

And now it's time to break out the hatchet. This is all based on the last episode I saw, one featuring a fight between Gastonia and Utahraptor -- I can't give you the species names because they didn't give them to the audience.

Here's the idea behind Jurassic Fight Club. Fossil evidence of dinosaur fights are analyzed by paleontologists and a computer-animated version of the fight is created. I've read that the fight scenes were done before the paleontologists were interviewed; that may be slander but that's how it seems when you watch the show.

The name is deceptive; very little of the show has been set in the Jurassic and it's not so much Fight Club as it is CSI. My first real criticism is that the show would be better if it filled a half-hour rather than an hour-long slot. There is too much repetition of thoughts and footage badly concealed by quick cutting -- the result is an onslaught of words and images that don't carry a whole lot of meaning.

Now, on to the previously stated criteria.

How much dinosaur do we get?

Not as much as I like -- the show is mostly interviews and field shots and so on, interspersed with clips from the final fight. And it didn't seem as though the final viewing of the fight was complete.

Do I get any new information?

As a matter of fact, yes. Gastonia is a lot more of a bad-ass than I thought. In particular the idea that some of the spikes/plates/scutes (sic) at the base of the tail could act as scissors is a fascinating one -- I'm not entirely convinced that they worked the way they show here, though. And it's always interesting to hear the story behind a fossil find.

How often does the show make me want to/actually scream?

Constantly.

First off is that science is treated quite badly here. Ideas ranging from solid speculation to flat-out whimsy are presented as facts. "Utahraptor could jump up to fifteen feet." We're talking about an animal the size of a bear here. Show me the biomechanics, tell me who argues this position and why -- and include a little room for doubt. Every conclusion is treated as fact; fuck that.

And the actual writing is terrible. Not like that's unusual in nature shows... Lines like "One hundred and twenty million years ago dinosaurs were the planet's dominant species," are just plain stupid. There is no such thing as the species 'dinosaur' and what's a dominant species anyway? Make sense or shut up, he said.

"Dinosaur" George Blasing seems as though he's a nice guy -- but he comes off as an enthusiast with no real rigor of thought. He's the main one throwing off unsupported and in many cases unsupportable assumptions and treating them like facts. I can't for the life of me understand why he gets so much face time.

The quick-cut technique they use here produces some bad results as well. For example, when Jim Kirkland is talking about ankylosaurs they cut to a shot of some stegosaurs. When Utahroptor is compared in size to a bear, they cut to footage of bears that don't have any scale, that don't give you an idea of their size. Why do this?

And it has to be said that there is no longer an acceptable excuse for showing Maniraptorans without feathers. If you can't afford to animate them then don't use them, dipshit. And they also got the hands wrong -- they were held in a position that's long since been discredited. Please make use of current knowledge!

Those aren't the only things that are just plain wrong. For instance, there's a claim that Utahraptor is more agile than Gastonia because it's a two-legged animal. Tell it to the wolves and cheetahs and antelope. Or the statement that fossils have no remains of organic matter in them. That's not what I've heard...

Kindly fact check when you're making documentaries. That would seem obvious, wouldn't it?

And finally, I'm not sure what to make of the sight of paleontologists entering states of full-on gooberosity in the public view. Watching people whose work I've read with pleasure going on about how bad-ass the dinosaurs are makes them seem, um... A little juvenile? I mean, I'm totally in favor of that kind of enthusiasm but the way it's used in the context of the show...

Look, if it gets to the point where I'm saying get a little dignity, well, that's just not a good sign.

Do we have any good visual moments? Do we recieve a frisson of the alien?

Yes, we do. The shots of Gastonia moving across the landscape with a group of pterosaurs mounted on its back are quite lovely and evocative.

How's the violence?

Disappointing this time around. The fight was poorly thought out -- Utahraptor seems to have deliberately put himself into the aforementioned bone-shears of the Gastonia. It's just a lot of jumping around shot like a sneaker commercial or music video.

And just between you, me, and my schadenfruede I would have liked some more gore. I mean, don't tease me with your parental warnings if you ain't gonna dish out the blood in gratifying quantities.

Okay, I can hear you saying. How would you have done it differently, Mr. Big Mouth?

(As an utter aside. I took a peek at the post I made when my fever was peaking and found that I was channeling Myles naGopaleen... I suppose I could have stolen from worse.)

Jurassic Fight Club Part One: A Fossilized Curate's Egg.

Remember the pencil version?

At the suggestion of Brian over at Laelaps (see my blogroll; I'm currently too ignorant to put links inside of posts, as has been pointed out to me) I'm going to give you a rundown on the TV show Jurassic Fight Club.

So before we get into that, let me introduce you to one of my favorite metaphors. It's from a Victorian-period Punch cartoon that shows a clergyman and a lord sitting at a breakfast table. The lord says, "Good Lord, Curate! It looks as if you've got a bad egg!" With a smile like a weasel eating butter the curate replies, "Not at all! Many parts are excellent!"

That's how I feel about things like comics, genre fiction, monster movies, rock and roll, and crappy animated dinosaur shows. You go into them knowing that you've got a bad egg -- but with luck you may scavenge a few excellent bites from the experience. Mmmmm... the Curate's egg. It's my favorite.

Of course I don't have good taste. But my bad taste is exquisitely developed.

So before we go into Jurassic Fight Club, let's take a look at my criteria for this kind of affair. Remember, I'm approaching this from a number of perspectives ranging from student to scriptwriter to artist to loaded dude on the couch killing time before bed.

First off, how much dinosaur do we get?

Next, how often does the show make me want to/actually scream? This divides into some subcategories. Is the science bad? Is the voiceover work irritating? What about the writing? The pacing? The visual quality? Just how badly screwed up is this thing, anyway?

Do I get any new information?

Do we have any good visual moments?

At any point to we receive a frisson of the alien -- a sense of conviction that convinces us that we're seeing something real and strange?

And, finally, how's the violence?

More in part two.

(By the way, I was just beating the shelves for that damned cartoon. If I find it, I'm posting it -- it's public domain for sure and like I said, it's an excellent metaphor.)