Category Archives: Writer

Neuroscientist David Eagleman and His Giraffe

2 Replies

Dr. David Eagleman

Let me begin by saying that if you ever get the chance to meet Dr. David Eagleman (1) he is one of the coolest guys ever to just sit around and shoot the breeze with and (2) it may seem like a joke when he corrects your calling him “Mr. Eagleman” to “Dr. Eagleman” but he is totally serious (trust me on this). Unfortunately, my hoodie-wearing professors at my small public liberal arts college have corrupted my understanding of hierarchy, which I am slowly learning will likely lead to my inevitable inability to secure long-term employment.

(Note: it is not uncommon for me to refer to my Ph.D.-wielding professors as “Doc”, “Supreme Commander”, “Citizen”, etc. In fact, I am certain that I could have avoided some of the awkward moments between Dr. Eagleman and I had I simply referred to him by the latter title. I mean, Citizen Eagleman sounds like it should come with a slice of apple pie as the national anthem plays in the background.)

But I’ve digressed.

Dr. David Eagleman (web; twitter) is a neuroscientist at Baylor College of Medicine where he directs the Laboratory for Perception and Action and Initiative on Neuroscience and Law. He author of four books (with two more forthcoming) including the bestsellers Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives (2009) and Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain (2011) and has written for an array of publications including Slate Magazine, New Scientist and Discover Magazine. In addition, when he is not studying synesthesia, time perception, and the intersections of neuroscience and law he spends his free time being a Renaissance Man by geographically mapping Asp Caterpillar populations and the symptoms of their venom, inventing philosophy, and drawing giraffa camelopardalis.

…

Actually, as I write this I am beginning to realize why he stresses the prefix before his name – it’s an act of humility.

He must know that he could easily get away with being called The All-Knowing Dr. David Eagleman, Keeper of Time and Multi-Sensation.

A Postmodern Giraffe By Writer and Editor Michael Shermer

1 Reply

Michael Shermer

Michael Shermer (web; twitter) is a humanist/atheist/nontheist/skeptic thinker best known for his seventeen books on psychology, biology, history, and … cycling, the former of which includes the popular Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time (2002) and his most recent The Believing Brain: From Ghosts and Gods to Politics and Conspiracies – How We Construct Beliefs and Reinforce Them as Truths (2011). In addition, Shermer is the editor-in-chief of Skeptic magazine and also writes a monthly column for Scientific American. So, as you can probably infer, if you give this guy a pen, he will probably return it completely drained – along with an essay.

Approaching him at a convention in Fargo, ND, Shermer was happy to contribute though with the proviso that he have full artistic license to do as he wished. Having no problem with this, I let him do as he wished. After a matter of minutes he returned my notebook with what I can only call a classic. Unlike his giraffe-drawing contemporaries, Shermer saw this as an intellectual challenge; instead of just creating a reflection of the social construction we call a “giraffe” he broke it down to its barest essence. And while I am by no standard (but my own) an art critic, I do believe Shermer to be a noble successor to Duchamp and contemporary of Damien Hirst.

This is the future of art.

… And what a sad future it is.

A Giraffe Drawn By Writer and Editor Ben Greenman

1 Reply

Ben Greeman (web; wiki) is a staff journalist whose writings have appeared in Rolling Stone, Mother Jones and The New Yorker (the last of which he actually serves on the staff of). Besides publishing several books of his own fiction he is the ghostwriter of both Gene Simmons and Simon Cowell’s memoirs. Lastly, he really really really wanted his giraffe posted and was willing to tolerate my general procrastination.

On May 9, 2011, during the great Golden Age of GDBPWSNBDG I received a pleasant surprise in my inbox shortly after I invited him to contribute via Twitter (because, like many reasonable people, he was confused by the blog’s thesis). He wrote,

Hi. I found your site and am now submitting a giraffe. I was going to
use pencil and paper, or chalk and chalkboard, or pen and ink and
paper, but instead i used a cheap program I have on my iPhone called
SimpleDraw. Let me know if it doesn’t pass muster or if there’s
something else you need me to do with it. Once I was in Africa,
because my brother used to work there, and I saw a real giraffe. It
was pretty impressive and bizarre. They probably look at us and think
the same thing, that we have impossibly short necks and completely
un-alien ears and eyes.

He’s an artist, I thought, aware of the Conceptual Art Registry he invented to license out conceptual art pieces to young artists, and he’s breaking the mold! Revolutionary!

And then I saw it.

Ok.

Of course I know very little about art and, without judging, move forward with every intent to post it. Tomorrow.

Next thing I know it’s August 29, 2011, and as I sift through my email I realize something must have slipped my mind.

HI — just wanted to see if you ever posted this giraffe…

It’s really the ellipses that cause the guilt to flow over me. Feeling terribly rude, I try my best to make amends:

Hey Ben,

I would like to begin by apologizing for the four month delay in posting your giraffe. Though in my defense, like a fine wine such work knows only how to age with the utmost grace and beauty – why settle for a $3 bottle of Tisdale when one can have something that I, being an impoverished college student, cannot even name? Upon reviewing your piece again I can see that the experts do not lie: magnificent!
Being in charge of this blog I kind of feel like it’s expected of me even if the humor is stale, stilted and just generally lame. But I try not to be too self-conscious of it and accept it for what it is – it’s just the opener: the beginning foreplay to a great consummation of comedy, if you will.
But in all seriousness: my bad. Most of the summer saw me whisked away and lately I’ve found myself busy with both school and working with a group to plan a conference around Richard Dawkins, which will be taking place in a small, white Lutheran town and thus will likely inflame the region. (Throwing shit at the fan actually requires a fair amount of planning, oddly enough). Unfortunately, this means I’ve had to slow down a bit with the website. Regardless, I’ll make sure your giraffe gets up very soon.
See? I’m not that big of a procrastinator; I have an excuse.
Is there anything else you would like to say about your contribution? Right now I expect I’ll just be writing up a brief blurb about who you are, what you do and include parts of this brief email exchange for humorous effect (hopefully; if that’s all right with you). I should also inform you that this is published in our campus newspaper and if The New Yorker wants to get in on this now is the time.
Josh
Another joke! Ha! A real knee slapper. Clearly I’m forcing myself to be silly since I’ve already explained that I’ll include our email exchange as part of the article and since it’s a humor site surely he’s going to say something equally silly and zany. Jest, Ben, jest with me! Together let us dance like monkeys for the masses!
cool.
here’s what I have to say about my contribution:I have a friend who recently had a baby. I want this crappy giraffe I draw to take over the world so that he and ever other baby thinks this is what giraffes really look like. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
Today is September 23, 2011, and Ben writes:
did the giraffe ever run?

Poet and Author Robert Bly (And the Gary Snyder Incident)

3 Replies

Gary Snyder reading at Plymouth Congregational Church in Minneapolis, MN.

On April 18, 2011, Pulitzer Prize-winning poet and environmental activist Gary Snyder came to Minneapolis to do a reading of his work, and being a fan of his poetry I was sure the event was marked on my calendar, post-it noted on my laptop and entered into my phone the very day the news came out. When the date finally came, it just so happened that I was growing this blog and therefore thought the event would be an opportunity to get a big name. Unfortunately, having only received drawings from people generally-receptive to the idea, I naïvely walked into what would come to be a cold rejection from a personal hero.

Robert Bly is Pretty Fly*

Arriving early to the Plymouth Congregational Church early so that we could get seats near the front, my friend and I squandered away the time watching the crowd pour in. Then suddenly, I saw a familiar face come in; at the time I could not put my finger on it, but the man’s features and crop of snow-white hair reminded me of … someone. Was it Robert … Bly? I leaned forward to the people in front of me and asked, assuming (for whatever reason) that they might know; they didn’t. And lest I let the ambiguity fester, I pushed the question out of my head. Yet even as I tried to draw my attention elsewhere, I found my eyes wandering to where the man sat a few rows away.

Short of approaching the man and asking him who he was, I knew there was nothing I could do. That is until I remembered I was a youth in the 21st century, an era where speculation has effectively been eradicated: I pulled up his photo on my smart phone and compared the two. Yep, it was Robert Bly (website), a Minnesota author and poet with 50+ books under belt written over just as many years.

Poet Robert Bly drawing a giraffe.

When Gary Snyder’s 90-minute reading was over, I allowed myself to be carried with the crowd until I approached the man. Nervous, “Mr. Bly?”

In a mumbling voice, he answered: “Yeah?”

“May I have your autograph?”

“Sure.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and signed a sheet of paper in a single, slow stroke not lifting his pen once. As the Y in his last name began to trail, I moved in.

“And can you draw me a giraffe?” Without missing a beat or giving it any second thought, he complied. The person who only a few hours before I could make out as “someone” drew me a wonderful picture of … something.

Shaking his hand, I thanked him not only for the favor but also for all of his work. Unfazed by the entire exchange, he slipped his pen back into his pocket, said it was no problem and moved on with his life.

The Dharma Bum Bums Me Out**

I retrospect I should have known that he would have turned me down; for instance when he said that he was not interested in having a question-and-answer session nor that he was going to speak up just because those on the second-level could not hear him. Also, I should not have overlooked the fact that some of the most well-known beats are notorious for being … impolite.

By the time I made my way to the front of the line, a knot formed in my throat, which had the effect of pitching my voice to the higher notes on the scale. Being a writer myself and someone who carries around The Portable Beat Reader (1992) edited by Ann Charters like it’s the New Testament, here I was (after all) paying my respects to a contemporary of Kerouac and Ginsberg, the “Thoreau of the Beat Generation” and a 1975 winner of the Pulitzer Prize for his collection of poetry entitled Turtle Island (1975). For all of three minutes I could speak in nothing less than a falsetto.

Handing him a few books to sign, which he did without so much as batting an eye to me. In fact, save for what felt like a forced greeting he probably would have let the moment pass in silence were I not willing to fill it. “And this book here,” I said while pulling out a copy of No Nature (1992), “it’s from the University of Minnesota library where I go to school. Would you be willing to sign this, too?

Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Gary Snyder about to break my heart.

He looked up to me, his west-coast accent a (surprisingly) soothing monotone: “In my experience, I don’t usually sign these because they tend to get stolen.”

What does one say to this? All I could do was stare, watch him slowly sign his name as guilt washed over. Yes, I felt guilty doing what I thought to be a nice deed for my library. Again, in retrospect, I should have learned from this moment, but as they say: ‘In the pursuit of giraffes, you’re bound to get a few horses, but you’ll never know until you –‘

“Before I go, sir,” I knelt down so that our eyes were even, “I have a favor to ask you.”

His worn, bespectacled eyes gave away none of his thoughts.

“I run a blog dedicated to pictures of giraffes drawn by people who should not be drawing giraffes, and being a great fan of your work, I was wondering if you could do me the honor of drawing me a giraffe?”

The pen and paper was ready – the very same Robert Bly had used.

But there was only silence.

(As I tried to hold my charming grin, I could feel the corners of my lip quiver.)

Nothing.

And then, “I don’t see why I should do that.”

Our contact didn’t break, the silence growing caustic, as my heart began to race. People were watching, I knew, perhaps offended that a plebeian would ever step on the robes of a king. In that moment, I knew only shame, thinking, You’re right, there is no reason for any of this. My life is a waste.

Without knowing it I had been holding my breath, and as I let it go I squeaked out a mousey “OK” and rose to my feet. Like a dying animal, I scurried away to hide myself so I could shake pathetically, die, without embarrassing myself further. Had this really happened? I thought, Did I just make a complete ass of myself in front of Japhy Ryder, Jack Kerouac’s spiritual guide in The Dharma Bums (1958)? Now when I write will the literary gods forever look down on me, cursing me for my offense?!

There are times where I still think back to this day, Snyder’s voice as clear in my head as though he were there … hacking away at my self-worth.

 But at least I got a sweet drawing of a car.

———————

*Please ignore the awful word play and puns.

**Or should I say, the Dharma Puns?

Giraffe Art By Comedian and Filmmaker Paul Provenza

1 Reply

Paul Provenza is a comedian, filmmaker and writer perhaps best known for his long list of acting roles and 2005 documentary The Aristocrats, which is about the infamous joke of the same name. For those who may be not familiar with it,

Comedian and Filmmaker Paul Provenza

“The Aristocrats” is a longstanding transgressive joke amongst comedians, in which the setup and punchline are almost always the same (or similar). It is the joke’s midsection – which may be as long as the one telling it prefers and is often completely improvised – that makes or breaks a particular rendition [Wikipedia].

For those in the audience comfortable with vulgarity in its many films, it’s something that I would recommend; for the queasy, you should probably refrain. Here’s the trailer [SFW]:

So following my traumatic experience with Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Gary Snyder, I have actually become a little nervous when soliciting giraffes (and yes, I am not blind to the irony of this). Thus I have been working to develop new approaches that will (hopefully) make me feel like less of a tool in my quest to Catch ‘Em All. Obviously it’s a work in progress, but my experience with Provenza may have led me on to the slyest approach yet ….

One of the guests at the 2011 America Atheists Convention, Provenza did a brief reading from his book ¡Satiristas! (2010). Catching him as he was leaving the room, I pulled him aside to ask a few questions about his work (his documentary was a Holy Grail of Naughty in my neighborhood). Slowly edging himself away to make a book signing, I seized the opportunity and asked him if I could have his autograph. Happy to do so, he wrote a nice note (“Fight the Imaginary Power!”) punctuated with what I can only assume to be his name. While he still had the pen in hand, I decided to strike:

“… And draw me a giraffe?”

He looked up from the paper, “what?”

“A giraffe. It’s for the internet.”

He just looked at me. What else was there to say?

I’ve never tried to do the Aristocrats joke myself, but I’m sure it would go something like this: “A family of giraffes walk into a talent agency hoping to be a part of the best agency in the country, capable of scheduling a meeting without much delay (they’re fucking giraffes i.e. hard to miss) one agent asks to see their act … [UPON REFLECTION – DELETED] … And that’s why this giraffe’s neck hurts.”

Dan Rather Can’t Draw A Giraffe

Leave a reply

For the last few weeks an old friend of mine has been eerily hinting to me he had discovered the Holy Grail and that I should expect to see it soon. Whether it was giraffe related or if he had actually followed the Kensington, MN, Runestone to the Holy Grail in my own regional backyard, he did not say. So in suspense I waited. And waited.

And finally it came.

Groggy, my eyes glazed over and my emotions boiling because of my coffee maker’s inability to do so, I was able to find solace in the form of an email. Opening it, I was blown away:

Sir.-

American Journalist Dan Rather

Journalist Dan Rather

Enclosed is a giraffe drawn by world-renowned journalist Dan Rather, the first man to report on JFK’s assassination and who brought America through every other major event int he 20th century.

He came to St. Olaf College to give a little speech about his life’s work, full of adorable old-man anecdotes and wry smiles. Afterward, my friend Thomas Hegland asked him to draw a giraffe on my behalf. The room went silent, as if everyone was saying “Awww shit. We’re going to be remembered by Dan Rather as ‘that giraffe school.'” However, Dan was more than genial about drawing this pointy creation, but warned my friend Thomas that “If this giraffe ever reaches the public domain, I will deny having anything to do with it, and will place the blame on the world’s greatest Dan Rather impersonator.” The room became less tense, and this giraffe became history.

I’d say Dan should definitely stick to his day-job.

Best,

–Jordan Montgomery

Upon further prying it was clarified that – unlike every other giraffe obtained so far – this was not something done before a limited crowd. In fact, “the giraffe was drawn in a room full of the leaders of the [St. Olaf’s] Political Awareness Committee and school administrators (about 40 people), definitely a tough crowd.”

Thomas, you’re one brave motherfucker; I tip my hat to you.

For those who may not know who he is, Dan Rather is best known for his 43 years of work for CBS News (24 of these as the anchor of the CBS Evening News). Over the course of these 43 years Rather was the first network television journalist to report the assassination of President Kennedy, went head-to-head with Presidents Nixon, Reagan and even Saddam Hussein. Along the way he picked up some Emmys, seven Peabody Awards and for good measure guaranteed historical immortality by coining the phrase: “This race is shakier than cafeteria Jell-O.”

He also once said, which could double as commentary on where GDBPWSNBDG is going, “This one’s a crotch-grabber, folks, and I’ll bet a handful of nuts it won’t be over any time soon.“

U.S. Senator Al Franken’s Bad Giraffe Drawing (And That Time Con. Peterson Turned Us Down)

2 Replies

The following comes from a friend of mine, Dillon “The Boots on the Ground in DC” McBrady, and for this I am very appreciative. Unfortunately, the last time I had an opportunity to talk with Senator Al Franken back when GDBPWSNBDG was but a threat he thought it was hilarious and a great idea, which is presumably the reason why he has been working so passionately on net neutrality issuessince I am 90% positive this website is the only thing standing between freedom, liberty and ‘Merica, and the Soviet Union [citation needed], but I forgot to make the ask and thus for the longest time Senator Franken was “the one that got away.” But not for long.

U.S. Senator Al Franken

Luckily Dillon happened to make one of his constituent breakfasts in DC, which just goes to show that we will hunt you down, and was able to solicit a drawing. Naturally, this would be the part of the article where I devolve into a long tale of trial and triumph, comedy and life friends made, but there really is not much to say. Dillon asked and he received. That’s it. Not a reference was made about the fact that Franken is well known around the state for his ability to draw a map of the United States from memory or Senator Jeff Sessions from still life.

Nothing.

But where the story of Senator Franken ends the story of the Wall of Shame grows and now I have the great burden of announcing the following: former Chairman of the House Agricultural Committee Collin Peterson, and territorial representative of GDBPWSNBDG, has turned us down. Dillon writes:

It was a normal constituent breakfast. Al Franken was making the rounds shaking hands, but when he stood up to make his usual speech, he pointed out the Representative Collin Peterson was in the crowd. My heart raced. Could I perhaps get two giraffes drawn from important Minnesotans? Peterson looked like such a nice, old gentleman. He even said, “Hi, how ya doing?” and gave me a pat on the back as he walked by me. After getting the Franken giraffe, I had the confidence to approach Peterson:

“Hi, my name is Dillon McBrady, I attend college at the University of Minnesota, Morris. I have an extremely random question for you, would you draw a giraffe for me, please?” I politely handed him a piece of paper and a pen.

He took it into his surprisingly large hands.

“A giraffe, huh? What for? Will this end up on the internet?” His eyes narrowed, looking down at me suspiciously from his 6-foot-something advantage.

“In all probabitlity, yes.” I said, smiling hopefully.

“Then no, I don’t draw too well, and don’t want to be embarassed by some awful giraffe picture I drew.” He gave me back the pen and the empty piece of paper.

After some witty repartee, I walked away. Shamefully disappointed that Colin Peterson had let me down.

It doesn’t tarnish his reputation, but it did break my heart.

These kind of things happen and all we can do is shrug our shoulders and move on with our lives (and definitely not send Peterson, who happens to be a part of the House Art Caucus, an email regarding his decision from zip code 56267). But, on the bright side, at least Dillon was able to walk away with a nice “Caraffe” that only makes me think that I should soon open up a sister website called “Camels Drawn By People Who Should Not Be Drawing Camels” since it’s apparently pretty popular.

But alas, who would read that garbage?

It has a penis.

A martian giraffe drawn by PZ Myers

Atheist Blogger PZ Myers’s Giraffe Art

17 Replies

Professor PZ Myers in London

PZ Myers (@pzmyers) is a biologist an professor here at the University of Minnesota, Morris, who is best known for his blog Pharyngula and because of it is often ranked on lists of the most influential living atheists. He also has a book coming out in Spring 2012 that some are predicting may make him the Fifth Horseman of New Atheism. Yeah, almost-South-Dakota Minnesota is pretty great.

Unfortunately, though he lives only a few blocks from me I don’t get as many opportunities to talk to him about politics and science as I would wish. In fact, on the few occasions we’re in the same room I tend to sweat nervously and try my damndest to make sure that the buttons on my shirt are in direct vertical alignment with my belt buckle (as every good gentleman knows). The consequence of this is some of the most awkward silence I have ever been a part of. And I’m a fairly awkward guy.

Because the story of how this giraffe was obtained is not really that interesting (the Morris Freethinkers, Jen McCreight and PZ Myers were in a small town bar; he drew a giraffe to humor a kid with a giraffe fetish; I feel ashamed for killing the conversation) I will try my best to compensate by sharing a story that often comes to memory. It’s nothing exciting, I’ll admit, but meh.

In 2009 PZ was named the Humanist of the Year by The Humanist, a magazine about critical inquiry and social concern, and was given a very nice little award that he can carry around to show people that he’s not just a New Atheist but also a Humanist. At least that was the explanation he gave for lugging the award to a public lecture he was giving about the New Atheists. After a lively discussion – and at times, debate – the room cleared out and a few of those interested in continuing the conversation (including PZ) made their way across campus where the Morris Freethinkers (James, Kele and I) and the Morris Philosophy Club had an opportunity to exchange ideas and opinions. All in all, it was an exciting little event made all the more so by the fact that several of the campus’ most opinionated professors were trying to rattling each other’s cages. With the night carrying on a little later than perhaps anticipated for, the spectators (and even the participants) began to dwindle until there were only a few folks left, of which I happened to be one of them.

Getting ready to head out, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that PZ, who was already gone by this point, had forgotten his award. Uncertain as to what the next step would be, we happened to be lucky because one of my friends had his phone number was able to give him a quick ring; he was already across campus, but he was willing to wait for us to catch up. In a rush to head out the door I made the mistake of laying my bare hands upon the statue, which sent my mind into a rush – images of pain, suffering, reason, logic and Carl Sagan flashing and flaring.

Photograph taken by Milek Jakubiec

I awoke on the floor to Kele’s soft hand upon my forehead, asking, “What did you see?”

My lips could not formulate words, only tremble. As my vision began to refocus I caught myself gasping for air, unable now to breathe as a single static image held itself in my mind. Without thinking I turned to the garbage can that had been placed beside me, and lest I be too graphic (or sound too foolish), dear reader, I’ll simply say that unfortunately the great vastness of the English lexicon fails me. I can only imagine in the abstract, with the trouble expected from my mortal frame, such descriptors, but I believe them to be very themes of the Poetry of Cthulhu.

“Don’t worry,” there was nonchalance in Kele’s voice, “it happens to all of us.”

Echoes of screams and A.C. Grayling’s lecture on Darwin, Humanism and Science beat upon my skull with every pulse. There are no words.

“‘Everything has been said, but not everyone has said it yet,'” Kele said.

He could read in my eyes my confusion as I spit out, “what?”

“It’s from the Grayling lecture; again, the Humanist netherworld recycles the same lectures,” James said as he lifted me to a chair, making sure the garbage can was never too far from me. “Oddly enough though, Mark got a chapter from The Greatest Show on Earth.”

“Who’s Mark?” I asked.

Their eyes failed to meet mine as they turned to the window, the evening breeze leaking in, the moon wondering how the tides go in and out. “Only the truly damned get Dawkins.”

I have never asked about nor have I ever heard about Mark ever again.

“Bu- But how?”

“Haven’t you caught on?”

The room was spinning. I was descending into the caves of madness, where even a flicker of light sends shadows dancing upon the walls. “It’s a -” I paused, unable (or was I unwilling?) to accept what these shades were whispering, miming, a carnival of specters offering hollow warnings of –

“Horcrux.”

The word rolled off my lips like raindrops upon a great canopy, collecting until the momentary burst when it all falls like a shower upon the life below. “It’s a Horcrux. A Horcrux. Horcrux.”

My answer was greeted only with nods, the room solemn that I had to learn this through experience. James filled the silence, “He’s had it for a while now.”

I was struck, “Is this it?”

“No, there are more – his iPad, his beard, the basilisk cephalopod he keeps in his office – this is but one of many, each containing a little part of the Fifth Horseman.”

Before I could ask any more questions Kele wrapped the award in a small towel, careful not to lay his skin upon it. Life was slowly returning to my legs as I was helped to my feet and led to the doorway, but before we could even close the door a soft, gentle voice greeted us.

“Oh, hello! You were taking a while so I figured I would start walking toward you, but apparently you never left.” A thin smile spread across his face, “Do you have my … award?” His arms shot out to grab it from Kele’s hands before a reply could even be uttered. “I’m sure you know how much this means to me.”

A great chill ran up my spine.

A martian giraffe drawn by PZ Myers

Anyway, here’s a “Martian Giraffe.”

Writer and Blogger Chris Stedman’s Bad Giraffe Art

4 Replies

For as much as I enjoy hyping up the website I must say that this post marks a great turning point in the history of Pretty Awful Giraffes; it marks the first time we have ever actually been contacted by someone who should not be drawing a giraffe. So it was with great joy I was able to find this on the Twitter account a few days ago:

ChrisDStedman:

@AwfulGiraffes Bahaha! I love your website more than I can say. And you’re from Minnesota?! Too awesome for words. Keep it up!

And,

@AwfulGiraffes P.S. I’d be honored to draw a giraffe! Hilariously enough, when I doodle I mostly draw giraffes. Not that they’re good…

Chris Stedman is the Interfaith and Community Service Fellow for the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard University and the Managing Director of State of Formation, a new initiative at the Journal of Inter-Religious Dialogue. A fellow Minnesotan and graduate of Augsburg College, Stedman is also the founder and author of the blog NonProphet Status. In addition to this he writes for the Washington Post’s “On Faith” blog and The Huffington Post. Lastly, as if all of this was not accomplishment enough, he works to foster positive and productive dialogue between faith communities and the nonreligious and is currently writing a memoir related to this work for Beacon Press.

Frankly, I could go on and on about all of the great things Chris is doing but it would probably just make you feel bad. In fact, you might reach the conclusion that you’re just a twenty-something on the prairie who spends his time on the internet anonymously harassing Gary Snyder and David Silverman because they are unwilling (read: mature) to draw pictures of African animals; being emotionally attached to this project, every criticism you write will only be punctuated with tears. (Hypothetically speaking, of course).

I’ve digressed.

Convening the editorial review board (we never rubber stamp here) there were major reservations about whether or not Chris fit the general requirements of someone who should not be drawing a giraffe (after all he did explicitly state that he frequently draws giraffe). This great mission statement/identity debate went on for almost all of three minutes before we reached a consensus: it only seemed right to give a fellow Minnesotan a chance. Chris Stedman would be the next name to enter the GDBPWSNBDG canon.

Alerting him of this immense honor and privilege (something I’m sure he will now include on his blog’s biography page *cough*), we inferred a tone in his reaction Tweet reminiscent of a child getting the Nerf Super Soaker Hydro Cannon for Christmas.

@AwfulGiraffes Wow, thanks! It’s a deal! What’s the best way for me to do this? DM me if you want my email.

In addition to this he was even kind enough to attach a little note.

I’m not sure if this is cheating but yes, I drew my giraffe in Paint. And yes, I downloaded Paint specifically for this purpose. I drew it on my laptop with the touchpad, which was much harder than I anticipated. 

In case it isn’t clear: this is an image of a baby giraffe hanging out on my lap, and we’re friends (the heart should be a major hint). Because when you spend as much time working in front of the computer as I do, having imaginary cartoon giraffe friends is what you’re reduced to. But as someone who is working to bridge diverse communities, I’m not going to let differences like “one of us doesn’t actually exist” get in the way of our friendship! 

Finally: your website is awesome. Thanks again for inviting me to contribute.

Chris Stedman and A Pretty Awful Giraffe (May 2, 2011)

I’m not going to make any inappropriate jokes about where the giraffe is coming from. None.

Writer and Director Matthew Chapman

2 Replies

Matthew Chapman (personal website) is a journalist, screenwriter and director who is also the great-great grandson of Charles Darwin. More importantly, and this is something that was stressed, he’s a damn good journalist, screenwriter and director. He is the author of two nonfiction books, Trials of the Monkey – an Accidental Memoir (2002) and 40 Days and 40 Nights: Darwin, Intelligent Design, God, OxyContin, and Other Oddities on Trial in Pennsylvania (2007), the latter of which arose from his work with Harper’s magazine reporting on the 2005 Kitzmiller v. Dover Area  School Districtcase.

Matthew Chapman

For those who may not be familiar with Kitzmiller (or as some call it the “Dover Panda Trial”), it was effectively a continuation of the Scopes Monkey Trial and

was the first direct challenge brought in the United States federal courts against a public school district that changed its biology teaching curriculum to require that intelligent design was to be presented as an alternative to evolution theory, with Of Pandas and People to be used as a reference book.[1] The plaintiffs successfully argued that intelligent design is a form of creationism, and that the school board policy violated the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution. The judge’s decision sparked considerable response from both supporters and critics. [From Wikipedia]

I had the pleasure of meeting Chapman at the American Atheists Convention in Des Moines where he spoke briefly about and then premiered his 2011 Sundance-selected film The Ledge. Following the Q-and-A where every atheist in the room suddenly assumed themselves to be Roger Ebert, embarrassing not only themselves but everyone in the room, a few friends and I approached him to discuss the possibility of screening his film on our campus. Being open to the idea, he then asked us if we had any ideas on how he could distribute his film to college campuses – and we did – but as the conversation began to trail, I made the pitch:

In the most adorable English accent imaginable, Chapman replied: “You want me to draw a giraffe?”

“Well, yes.”

“I don’t even think I can recall what a giraffe looks like.”

“Long neck.”

This line tends to resolves all qualms.

“OK.”

And thus was born what is now is one of my new personal favorite drawings and proof that art skills are not an inheritable trait (have you seen Darwin’s sketches?).

What the fu- is that a penis?!