A Bone to Pick. Or Gnaw.

Lately the Ringo drums have been replaced by Derick William Dalton and his wife laughing while watching the murder mystery show Bones. They also ooh and ahh over the human remains, dried and dessicated, soggy and putrescent, burned crispy, or in a post-woodchipper amorphous mess on the table. To be honest, they just make me hungry. They turn loose all those crunchy sweet beetles to clean the bones and I drool. Sometimes the bodies come in with juicy fly larvae on them, and I feel rumbly in my tumbly. On occasion they show remains before being discovered and they have crows or kitties or sharks or crabs taking a nibble. Here I get jealous first, and then hungry. Sure I love humans, but that can be taken two ways.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. I really don't know how humans taste. Not for lack of opportunity. However, when I get past my culinary attraction to the remains, I note one of the underlying conflicts of the series: science versus religion. As an animal, and a reptile what's more, I am in a uniquely objective position to comment. The rats in the terrarium next to me in the pet store long ago would have said "position to be judgemental", but they long since died of old age and I'm still around. So I don't give a rat's you-know-what and neither do they.

What the writers describe as science in the Brennan-Booth debates is really atheism. Science is about what's measurable. God isn't, so he (or she or it or them) is non-disprovable. As lack of evidence is not evidence of absence, atheism isn't science but a valid religion. It's based on belief in an unprovable absence. The writers don't need to adjust the conflict, because it works well. They need to change the labels so -

Oh, sweet! This episode is about a saltwater floater! That gives the skeleton such a delightful bouquet and softened texture to the palate, adding a lightly abrasive crust and a piquant marine aftertaste.

The difference between psychiatry and dermatology? Lipstick.

I'm often fascinated by the facial features of humans. Specifically, how much more they can communicate than a reptile. See, here's what I can say: eyes open, eyes closed. That's I'm watching you, I'm not. I can't say I'm watching you because I think you are a good-for-nothing crook. Well, I could be saying that, but it looks identical to when I say the curve of your plastron is a total turn-on and I want you to fertilize my eggs. Do you see the problem? And do you see why male box turtles have had to evolve long rear claws to hold open the female's shell in the back? You hairless pink monkey girls think you have a hard time commuicating with your mates. Did I say pink? I meant pink and brown and tan and olive and - well, you get the idea.

Binocular vision seems like an interesting concept. If you don't mind people sneaking up behind you. I see Derick William Dalton's kids try this on each other once in a while. The problem is, they always giggle before they pounce. I suppose it's kind of cute, but how does he expect them to survive in the wild like that? One little giggle, zero point eight seconds, that's all I need to close up shop. Then who's giggling? Me. From inside my fortress. Of course, eyes on the side, of which I'm very fond I'll have you know, would be more efficient without the bulk of the rest of my turtleness. I'm not complaining about my figure. I am quite comfortable with my body shape, and Animal Planet with all those half-starved zoo models will not injure my self-image. Does that Russian tortoise really think she's attractive with glistening mango juice on her face? And the way she sticks her back legs out of the shell much farther than is comfortable? That's not biology, that's just a floozy show. Besides, the size of my shell doesn't matter. My neck is long and flexible, and I can easily peek around behind it.

Here's what I wish I did have, though. Lips and a dimple. Then I could smile, the dimple would dent into my right cheek, and I would be adorable. More adorable, I mean. The lips, on the other hand, aren't for what you think. It has nothing to do with food or affection, only communication. Picture this: eyes open, red lipstick. That means hello. Eyes open, red lipstick, and dimple: let's be friends. With the eyes closed, there are so many possibilities. With a hiss or two thrown in, I have an anthropologically recognized language.

Blue lipstick? Interesting possibilities for meanings. I'll have to read up on my Mary Kay and Sigmund Freud and get back to you.