Finally after several weeks of silent note-taking, I summoned the courage to ask about abiogenesis; and the second law of thermodynamics; and the presence of intelligent, ordered data in DNA; and the scarcity of intermediate forms in the fossil record; and whatnot. I didn't raise those questions all at once, but over a period of two weeks or so. I gradually got to the point where I suppose I was asking a question or two every day.Anymore, I seldom wind up arguing with evolutionists. I consider the whole thing ridiculous, and my experience with them is generally the same: question their paradigm, and they just get this bug-eyed look on their faces and move right past argumentation and into bluster and insult.
And something very quickly became obvious: this guy had no good answers to the hard questions. He had never really thought through those issues. He was a doctrinaire evolutionist whose presuppositions were dogmatically atheistic, and he had never seriously considered any arguments against his views. When I (and soon others) began to question his claims, he knew he was in over his head. His cool braggadocio gave
way to agitated frustration.
So for three weeks he brought in a guest lecturer from the department of geosciences at the University of Texas in Dallas. And you know what? That guy had no sensible answers either. All the two of them could do was mock and fulminate against whoever was raising the questions.
One of the best--that is, funniest--encounters I had was with a lady whom I asked, "Of the different theories of evolution (I can think of five without difficulty), to which one do you subscribe, and why do you think that the evidence for it falsifies the others?"
Her answer--I kid thee not--was, "The one the scientists believe."
She was an ardent evolutionist, yet did not know enough about the subject to know that there are competing theories of evolution. She was darn sure that I was wrong, though. The pitiful part is that she was (presumably still is) so darn typical...