We have recently successfully annoyed Mrs Gin by convincing our eldest child that the moon landings were faked. We only did it to annoy her. As ever, it was easier than we had hoped.
We brought up the theory that it was fake at a supposedly crucial ‘clear the air’ ‘Family Dinner’. When our eldest said it was bobbins and the moon landing clearly happened, we asked why and then just went ‘that sounds a bit suspicious to us’ and ‘when you think about it it doesn’t make sense’ until he started to think that, yes, it is more likely than not that the landings were faked. Google ‘Deep space radar’ and ‘Radiation belt’ if you sheeple don’t believe me.
Throughout this whole conversation, Mrs Gin looked on in thin lipped fury, her own intented conversation about her feelings postponed indefinitely. Result.
Making our son believe in this consipracy makes us what wonder what other nutjob conspiracy theories we can make them believe in:
Nah, that’s just silly.
What about evolution? We toyed with trying to convince him that evolution must be a myth, that intelligent design must be more likely. But he’s a bright lad and he was having none of it.
The thing with evolution is that there’s just so much evidence for it. Consider, for instance, Domestos:
It’s gone from your basic, no nonsense bleach:
to this life style accessory:
The review unit we handled was so tactile and innocent that we felt like squirting it on our Barnsley Chops. Gone is the delightful stench, gone is the ominous threats about what it does to germs. In their place have come a ‘touch me’ type moulding of the handle, softer tones of blue, and background packaging that looks like its been copied and pasted from an advert for fibre internet:
Evolution. Tactile, tasty evolution.
So, now we can see how Domestos has evolved, the idea of Intelligent Design is therefore ridiculed.
So if there is no Intelligent Design, does that mean there is no God and we are free to act as we like? God, that would be so tempting.