This list seems to have been ripped from one of multiple sites posting it. I have a hard time buying into you having much actual understanding of what you have posted. I'm guessing there are some here that will listen to your rebuttals of their points if you can muster it. Give it a whirl.

No takers? Lets give it one more whirl *promote

Eccelesiastes 1

1 The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.

2 “Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher;
“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.”

3 What profit has a man from all his labor
In which he toils under the sun?

4 One generation passes away, and another generation comes;
But the earth abides forever.

5 The sun also rises, and the sun goes down,
And hastens to the place where it arose.

6 The wind goes toward the south,
And turns around to the north;
The wind whirls about continually,
And comes again on its circuit.

7 All the rivers run into the sea,
Yet the sea is not full;
To the place from which the rivers come,
There they return again.

8 All things are full of labor;
Man cannot express it.
The eye is not satisfied with seeing,
Nor the ear filled with hearing.

9 That which has been is what will be,
That which is done is what will be done,
And there is nothing new under the sun.

10 Is there anything of which it may be said,
“See, this is new”?
It has already been in ancient times before us.

11 There is no remembrance of former things,
Nor will there be any remembrance of things that are to come
By those who will come after.

So...I go to John Lewis if I'm an old man who wants to look at little girls through a telescope?


The Man in the Moon had silver shoon
And his beard was of silver thread;
He was girt with pure gold and inaureoled
With gold about his head.
Clad in silken robe in his great white globe
He opened an ivory door
With a crystal key, and in secrecy
He stole o'er a shadowy floor;

Down a filigree stair of spidery hair
He slipped in gleaming haste,
And laughing with glee to be merry and free
He swiftly earthward raced.
He was tired of his pearls and diamond twirls;
Of his pallid minaret
Dizzy and white at its lunar height
In a world of silver set;

And adventured this peril for ruby and beryl
And emerald and sapphire,
And all lustrous gems for new diadems,
Or to blazon his pale attire.
He was lonely too with nothing to do
But to stare at the golden world,
Or to strain at the hum that would distantly come
As it gaily past him whirled;

And at plenilune in his argent moon
He had wearily longed for Fire-
Not the limpid lights of wan selenites,
But a red terrestrial pyre
With impurpurate glows of crimson and rose
And leaping orange tongue;
For great seas of blues and the passionate hues
When a dancing dawn is young;

For the meadowy ways like chrysophrase
By winding Yare and Nen.
How he longed for the mirth of the populous Earth
And the sanguine blood of men;
And coveted song and laughter long
And viands hot and wine,
Eating pearly cakes of light snowflakes
And drinking thin moonshine.

He twinkled his feet as he thought of the meat,
Of the punch and the peppery brew,
Till he tripped unaware on his slanting stair,
And fell like meteors do;
As the whickering sparks in splashing arcs
Of stars blown down like rain
From his laddery path took a foaming bath
In the ocean of Almain;

And began to think, lest he melt and stink,
What in the moon to do,
When a Yarmouth boat found him far afloat,
To the mazement of the crew
Caught in their net all shimmering wet
In a phosphorescent sheen
Of bluey whites and opal lights
And delicate liquid green

With the morning fish — 'twas his regal wish —
They packed him to Norwich town,
To get warm on gin in a Norfolk inn,
And dry his watery gown.
Though St. Peter's knell waked many a bell
In the city's ringing towers
To shout the news of his lunatic cruise
In the early morning hours,

No hearths were laid, not a breakfast made,
And no one would sell him gems;
He found ashes for fire, and his gay desire
For choruses and brave anthems
Met snores instead with all Norfolk abed,
And his round heart nearly broke,
More empty and cold than above of old,
Till he bartered his fairy cloak

With a half waked cook for a kitchen nook,
And his belt of gold for a smile,
And a priceless jewel for a bowl of gruel,
A sample cold and vile
Of the proud plum porridge of Anglian Norwich —
He arrived much too soon
For unusual guests on adventurous quests
From the Mountains of the Moon.

"The idea that your cat is the Creator of the Universe has no explanatory power. To have an argument that your cat is the Creator you need to provide positive reasons for it. The Universe is finely tuned: if design is an explanation than I wouldn't need to disprove anything and everything as being a potential Creator, I would simply need to examine the evidence for design to make a determination as to what kind of being this must be, and using Occams razor I could come to some definite conclusions about it."

And I would posit that any same test applied to the Judeo-Christian god would fail the test equally (given that "god did it" isn't a theory, it's a construct). For that matter, so would any other god you want to throw out there. Assuming an intelligent creator pre-dating the universe created the universe calls into question "How did this dude himself go about getting created?". That question can only basically be answered with "It's turtles all the way down".

How do you know that a Universe governed by laws isn't the signature of a Creator?

How do you know my cat didn't create it? Equal empirical evidence (none) of both constructs.

Why would you expect to see a grand cosmos such as this, with such awesome beauty, whirling away with mechanical precision? The mere fact of its existence let alone its operation and stability is something too grandiose to be automatically regulated to some accident.

Really? We happen to live in a time period called the Stelliferous Era in which stars exist. Too far in the past, they couldn't form; too far in the future, they will no longer form. So oddly enough, given that the conditions are at this particular time are favorable to life, life came into being and evolved. So if it's your belief that god created this universe to be human friendly, why'd he wait so long for the conditions to be right for us to exist? Why not just do it on Day 1? Or why didn't he wait longer? Why did the universe have to be human-friendly in the first place? He's god -- he can do anything, so why are humans bound to all these rules of math, physics and chemistry, like every single other bit of life from bacteria to Blue whales?

How do you know that a Universe governed by laws isn't the signature of a Creator?

How do you know it's not my incredibly clever, and possibly deific, cat? Again, same empirical proof (none).

Why would you expect to see a grand cosmos such as this, with such awesome beauty, whirling away with mechanical precision?

We live in a time where the universe is able to support life. Outside of this neatly-ordered era, we'd be plasma or neutrons.

You can prove a negative: there are no married bachelors. The idea that your cat is the Creator of the Universe has no explanatory power. To have an argument that your cat is the Creator you need to provide positive reasons for it. The Universe is finely tuned: if design is an explanation than I wouldn't need to disprove anything and everything as being a potential Creator, I would simply need to examine the evidence for design to make a determination as to what kind of being this must be, and using Occams razor I could come to some definite conclusions about it.

The second question is actually a really good one. I would expect to see the "signature" of the creator: something empirical that would point directly to a creator-being as opposed to a universe governed by. and explainable by, mathematical laws.

How do you know that a Universe governed by laws isn't the signature of a Creator? Why would you expect to see a grand cosmos such as this, with such awesome beauty, whirling away with mechanical precision? The mere fact of its existence let alone its operation and stability is something too grandiose to be automatically regulated to some accident. The intelligibility of the Universe is also something you seem to be taking from granted. Why should we even be able to comprehend it as far as we do? Could it be that the Creator gave us that ability?

I would also ask you why you think that understanding the mechanism somehow explains away agency?

Thanks Dolbs, that's good to know even if I will almost certainly never encounter a tornado. So, windows rolled up then. After further thought, I think the truck probably is the best idea in this scenario. Belted in and covered with a heavy blanket to protect you from flying glass should the windows break (and it's safety glass anyways) or other small debris, would be the way to go, or just curled up in a ball against the firewall if that's the only option. In the truck, you're insulated from lighting strikes or downed high tension lines, and it would provide reasonable protection from small whirling debris. You also have the mobility option should that need arise.

Granted, the truck could get hit by large missiles such as tree trunks, other cars, fat old ladies, cranes or other heavy machinery, or indeed itself be lofted hundreds of feet into the air. If any of that sort of thing happens, though, you were screwed anyways.

So, when it comes to this, I'm not really sure this is EIA in the truest sense. Given the (apparently) 30 seconds they had to plan, I think they made a reasonable choice among the options available to them. After all, it's definitely a situation where an okay plan now is better than a brilliant plan in five minutes. And yes, they probably should have come up with a plan as soon as they realized they were moving to a trailer park in ND, so a bit of EIA there. At least they kept on top of their priorities and realized the very first item of business was to film it happening, and I commend their presence of mind to hold the phone properly even in such a life-and-death situation.

Of course, since we're betting on the tornado not scoring a direct hit anyways. It could be that under a bed or in a closet in the trailer might have been just as well (losing the mobility, of course). Maybe having a trailer collapse on you is bad.

I dont' know why I find this scenario so fascintating to dissect.

That looks like a lot more work, when I already get fantastic coffee just following Aerobie's instructions. I can be almost done with my cup before this method is finished.

That said, I'll give it a whirl over the weekend.

And back on point, it's amazing how quickly the time passes here. No way does it seem long enough for the Sift to be eight years old...even considering I missed the first year and a bit. Kudos to everyone involved.

Maybe I'm jaded, but most if it was rather blase.

I did, however, really like the "hu-kike-chuk-whirl-chuk" spinning kick moves they started doing after 2:30.

Let her ride the virtual Tilt-O-Whirl!!

Your video, 10-year-old boy drumming washing machine: "Whirled Beat", has made it into the Top 15 New Videos listing. Congratulations on your achievement. For your contribution you have been awarded 1 Power Point.

ecstatic states. focus. the unwobbling pivot.

This sufi dancer is known as a Whirling Dervish, and this dance is a form of dhikr (or remembrance of God) among a Persian Sufi order known as the Mevlevi. They are followers of Rumi, a 13th-century poet and among one of my favorite poets of all time.

>> ^Stormsinger:

How can he -not- fall over?

I have very good handwriting, but unfortunately I am left-handed so I don't think I'd be able to give one of these pens a whirl without getting ink all over the place.

They're in for a whirl of their lives lol