One of Nature's Little Practical Jokes

Forty minutes in the dentist's chair this morning getting my pathetic teeth--crooked, overlapping, multi-fillinged--and the adjacent gum surfaces scraped and honed with a variety of razor-sharp instruments. My teeth are an unanswerable argument against the theory of intelligent design. Surely no self-respecting deity would have designed my teeth. If there is a god who takes time to tinker with the blueprints for individual organisms, she must have sub-contracted out my mouth to a nervous trainee who'd never tackled anything higher on the evolutionary ladder than a sea anemone.