Lucy, You Got Some ‘Splainin’ To Do!

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“Three million years old? I’m sorry. I don’t think so. I mean, first off, it’s a proven fact earth was created six-thousand years ago. Anyway, even if she’s only half as old as they claim, where’d they come up with all those photos? There’s no way a country like Ethiopia had cameras that far back.”

The comment above and the remarks below are excerpted from the August 30, 2016 keynote address delivered by Mordecai Clinkingbeard before the annual convention of Citizens Against Critical Analysis (CACA) in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Mr. Clinkingbeard is a self-described window blind technician, the founder and president of the Roach Lake Adam & Eve Society, and a Level III Deacon at the Westside Baptist Church in Chillicothe, Missouri.

6faa86a11fa0803c837e1a9a6444771a“Second, they’re saying this Lucy fell out of a tree Hello? First off, you know who lives in trees? Monkeys and squirrels, that’s who, not people or even pre-people, assuming there ever was such a thing as a pre-person. Somebody said she fell forty feet and was going thirty-five by the time she hit the ground. If I floor my Malibu from a standing stop I guarantee there’s no way I’m doing thirty-five after forty feet. No way.

“Plus, they’re saying she was eighteen years old and only three-foot-seven. You know how tall Danny DeVito is? Four-foot-ten, I looked it up. You’re telling me I had an ancestor old enough to get a driver’s license who’s a foot and a quarter shorter than Danny DeVito? Fuggedabouddit. Y’know what’s three-foot-seven? My new flat screen, that’s what. Tell ‘em to stick that up their Bunsen burner.

“Then there’s this business about how they somehow figured out from her bones that she landed on her feet and then plopped to the ground on her face. Give me a break. You know what? Here’s what we’ll do. You buy me one of those chickens on a spit at Wall*Mart and when I’m finished I’ll bury the bones next to my garage for a couple weeks and then we’ll see if you can figure out from lookin’ at them how the chicken died. I mean, you know how it died; somebody at the chicken factory probably wrung its neck. But that’s not the point. Point is, there’s no way from lookin’ at those bones under a microscope you’d ever figure that out.

“Oh yeah, and one last thing. Does “Lucy” sound African to you? Who’s to say she wasn’t a chimpanzee with the circus fell off a trapeze and got buried by some do-gooder out in the jungle?

“At least that makes sense.”

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© 2016 Ron Dulaney

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