Intelligent Design My Ass, part 10^4
Two-thirty AM for the past I don’t know how many nights, I lie awake. My normally sensitive skin turns up to 11, alerting my brain; “Emergency! Microscopic fibre touching left cheek!” A 20-year-old hernia repair decides to hurt. My hip reminds me of that time I landed on it; my shoulder joins the chorus. I am alerted to the presence of varicose veins in my legs and in places I shan’t mention. A muscle tremor in my leg keeps time. My hands decide this would be a good time to remind me I have a touch of arthritis.
I have not listened to the radio for days, but a song fragment loops endlessly in my head.
It is now four-thirty AM; my alarm clock will go off soon. A long work day looms ahead and I am desperate for sleep. I am still feeling everything that touches me; in a nonsensical way much of it translates as pain.
Creationists find evolution difficult to “believe” but it makes perfect sense to me that what passes for my nervous system is a haphazardly evolved result of tetrapod population dynamics. Parts of the brain that suited some survival purpose once upon a time are now used to speculate about the universe. The neurochemistry of an advanced ape that wouldn’t have lived past forty now must be kept running much longer.
What I can’t fathom is the notion that a loving, all-knowing Intelligent Designer sketched out this mess on purpose.