**When we last left our heroes, they were half in the bag and thrilled to find that there was in fact a device to communicate with the life forms inside the Discovery Institute. **

Having discovered that there was an intercom, we did the logical thing and used it to page whoever might be listening in the building. A rather suspicious sounding young man answered, and Kate explained to him, in an awful parody of her usual soft southern accent, that she was here for a tour. She kept explaining, as the voice in the box didn’t seem inclined to let us in. Sensing that we might be turned away at the door without even a glimpse inside, I jumped in, and explained that my friend was a science teacher from Mississippi, who was passionate about intelligent design, and really had a lot of respect for the work the fine folks there at the Discovery Institute do every day.

The man in the box said he’d be right down.

Sure enough, he arrived, and was not, in fact, bucktoothed and in stained overalls, clutching a cross and screwing a donkey. I guess that’s the thing about pre-conceived notions, eh? He was young, friendly, and ushered us upstairs, where he informed us he had to go get permission for us to be there. That seemed a bit odd, but did afford us the opportunity to browse their lovely waiting room. It was replete with as many books about intelligent design and conservative politics as you could ever want, and decorated with a bust of Reagan. It really made a gal like me want to stay awhile.

Kate and I waited for a few minutes, nervous and still a touch liquored up. When the man in the box returned, he had a short, bizarrely energetic man with him, who introduced himself as Casey, and welcomed us to the Institute, while apologizing that there wasn’t much to tour, really.

At that point, and I want to blame the fine rum smoothies that Shorty’s so kindly serves at all hours of the day, I utterly failed to connect the dots and realize that our sweatered and nervous tour guide was, in fact, Casey Luskin, the deranged and bizarre mouthpiece for many of the ID-iot issues littering our scientific landscape today.

So, with no idea who we were hanging out with, Kate and I began our tour through the hallowed halls of that fine institution, with Casey talking a mile a minute. Kate reiterated that she was a science teacher, still in what can only be described as a mockery of her real accent. Mr. Luskin peppered her with questions, at which point he really ought to have wised up, as Kate is a terrible liar even when sober. She claimed to be a general science teacher in an elementary school, and when he remarked that it was odd for elementary school students to have subject specific teachers, she replied only with a murmured “hmm”.  When asked if it was a private school, she assured him it wasn’t, and even when I tried to help her by asking if it wasn’t a new and experimental program, she was equally quick to reject that.

Next she was asked about what area of science she focused on in her classes, and she had no real answer. She muttered something about earth sciences and chemistry, and our ferret-like guide smiled and nodded.


Maybe he’s not stupid, though. Maybe he managed not to notice that we were clearly fucking lying, not because he himself knows absolutely nothing about science, but because he was just so thrilled to see women that, given that they were dumb enough to buy into the lunacy of intelligent design, might just also be dumb enough to spend a little time with little Casey.

Personally, I think he was just dumb.

**Next time we’ll be encountering Annika the angry tank, a website our boy is very proud of, and more propaganda than you can shake a stick at.**