I can recall sitting alone at an outdoor table at lunch one sunny day in middle school. There was a group of four girls seated at a table within hearing distance, so it was not difficult to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"And you know how they say the planets were made? By rocks crashing into each other?" inquired one of them, the cross pendant on her necklace sliding about her overflowing boobs with the force of her emotion. "Well, how often do you throw two rocks together and have them come out perfectly round?"
"Yeah!" affirmed the other girls. "It just doesn't make sense!"
I let the yogurt in my plastic spoon slide off and slop back into the container. Of course it doesn't make sense, I thought. I'm pretty sure that theory is not on the table. Unless the rocks were molten. Then gravity would, indeed, pull them into a perfect sphere.
I did not, however, interject myself into the argument, preferring instead to sit there, sulking, emitting steam from my ears and mulling over all the insults I so desired to, but never would, lob at them. I imagined myself standing on the ramparts of a castle, looking down at them from my position of superiority and calling out:
"...Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"
But that wouldn't have been helpful. Upsetting myself over the matter wouldn't do any good, either, although it was a bit too late for that. It would keep me awake at night for weeks, grinding my teeth over it.
Stupidity. Complete and utter idiocy.
This is not to say that I think that religious people are, in general, unintelligent. I know many extremely smart people of a variety of different faiths. There are an abundance of well informed, well-spoken, profoundly religious folks. There are, unfortunately for the world, a vocal portion with no idea what they are talking about.
Throw two rocks together, indeed.
If any of them ever take physics or astronomy, I wouldn't envy their teacher.