I strongly urge anyone who is skeptical of evolution to read some actual source material. An easy way to get into the literature is the collected essays of Stephen Jay Gould. The essays are all on the shortish sides - anywhere from 8 to 20 pages, so they make awesome bathroom reading 
He doesn't limit himself to dispelling myths about evolution at all. In fact, I'd say the bulk of the essays regard the process of science, and the history of discovery. He is very good at going back a couple hundred years, getting inside the head of a researcher, and showing us why the guy thought the way he did. It frequently will happen that the researcher winds up 'swept into the dustbin of history', because he was wrong about something, say, the age of the earth. But in detailing the mindset of the people working in that intellectual environment, we can see that even people who turned out later to be wrong, were nonetheless very intelligent and Rational people.
It is my opinion that if only the ID crowd were to use a little more rational thought, and educated themselves about the sweep of evolutionary thought [READ FIRST SOURCES!!] then they'll see the truth of the matter. After all, I don't think they'd doubt that clouds are made up of water vapor, even though I doubt any of them have taken a direct sample, or even seen a molecule of water before!
Allow me to quote a passage from his essay "An Unsung Single-celled Hero" from the collection Ever Since Darwin (1977):
Steven M. Stanley of Johns Hopkins University has recently argued that a popular ecological theory - the "cropping principle" - may provide such a biological control [that would permit the flourishing of diversity known as the Cambrian Explosion]. The great geologist Charles Lyell argued that a scientific hypothesis is elegant and exciting insofar as it contradicts common sense. The cropping principle is just such a counterintuitive notion. In considering the causes of organic diversity, we might expect that the introduction of a 'cropper' (either a herbivore or a carnivore) would reduce the number of species present in a given area: after all, if an animal is cropping food from a previously virgin area, it ought to reduce diversity and remove completely some of the rarer species.
In fact, a study of how organisms are distributed yields the opposite expectation. In communities of primary producers (organisms that manufacture their own nutrients by photosyntheses and do not feed upon other creatures), one or a very few species will be superior in competition and will monopolize space. Such communities may have an enormous biomass, but they are usually impoverished in numbers of species. Now, a cropper in such a system tends to prey on the abundant species, thus limiting their ability to dominate and freeing space for other species. A well-evolved cropper decimates - but does not destroy - its favorite prey species (lest it eat itself to eventual starvation). A well-cropped ecosystem us maximally diverse, with many species and few individuals of a any single species. Stated another way, the introduction of a new level in the ecological pyramid tends to broaden the level below it.
The cropping principle is supported by many field studies: predatory fish introduced in an artificial pond cause an increase in the diversity of zooplankton; removal of grazing sea urchins from a diverse algal community leads to the domination of that community by a single species.
Consider the Precambrian algal community that persisted for two and a half billion years. It consisted exclusively of simple, primary producers. It was uncropped and, for that reason, biologically monotonous. It evolved with exceeding slowness and never attained great diversity because its physical space was so strongly monopolized by a few abundant forms. The key to the Cambrian explosion, Stanley argues, is the evolution of cropping herbivores - single-celled protists that ate other cells. Croppers made space for a greater diversity of producers, and this increased diversity permitted the evolution of more specialized croppers. The ecological pyramid burst out in both directions, adding many species at lower levels of production and adding new levels of carnivory at the top.
How can one prove such a notion? The original cropping protist, perhaps the unsung hero of the history of life, probably was not fossilized. There is, however, some suggestive indirect evidence. The most abundant producer communities of the Precambrian are preserved as stromatolites (blue-green algal mats that trap and bind sediment). Today, stromatolites thrive only in hostile environments largely devoid of metazoan croppers (hypersaline lagoons, for example). Peter Garrett found that these mats persist in more normal marine environments only when croppers are artificially removed. Their Precambrian abundance probably reflects the absence of croppers.
Stanley did not develop his theory from empirical studies of Precambrian communities. It is a deductive argument based on an established principle of ecology that does not contradict any fact of the Precambrian world and seems particularly consistent with a few observations. In a frank concluding paragraph, Stanly presents four reasons for accepting his theory: (1) "It seems to account for what facts we have about Precambrian life"; (2) "It is simple, rather than complex or contrived"; (3) "It is purely biological, avoiding ad hoc invocation of external controls"; (4) "It is largely the product of direct deduction from an established ecological principle."
Such justifications to do not correspond to the simplistic notions about scientific progress that are taught in most high schools and advanced by most media. Stanley does not invoke proof by new information obtained from rigorous experiment. His second criterion is a methodological presumption, the third a philosophical preference, the fourth an application of prior theory. Only Stanley's first reason makes any reference to Precambrian facts, and it merely makes the weak point that his theory "accounts" for what is known (many other theories do the same).
But creative thought in science is exactly this - not a mechanical collection of facts and induction of theories, but a complex process involving intuition, bias, and insight from other fields. Science, at its best, interposes human judgment and ingenuity upon all its proceedings. It is, after all, (although we sometimes forget it), practiced by human beings.

He doesn't limit himself to dispelling myths about evolution at all. In fact, I'd say the bulk of the essays regard the process of science, and the history of discovery. He is very good at going back a couple hundred years, getting inside the head of a researcher, and showing us why the guy thought the way he did. It frequently will happen that the researcher winds up 'swept into the dustbin of history', because he was wrong about something, say, the age of the earth. But in detailing the mindset of the people working in that intellectual environment, we can see that even people who turned out later to be wrong, were nonetheless very intelligent and Rational people.
It is my opinion that if only the ID crowd were to use a little more rational thought, and educated themselves about the sweep of evolutionary thought [READ FIRST SOURCES!!] then they'll see the truth of the matter. After all, I don't think they'd doubt that clouds are made up of water vapor, even though I doubt any of them have taken a direct sample, or even seen a molecule of water before!
Allow me to quote a passage from his essay "An Unsung Single-celled Hero" from the collection Ever Since Darwin (1977):
Spoiler pp 123-125 :
Steven M. Stanley of Johns Hopkins University has recently argued that a popular ecological theory - the "cropping principle" - may provide such a biological control [that would permit the flourishing of diversity known as the Cambrian Explosion]. The great geologist Charles Lyell argued that a scientific hypothesis is elegant and exciting insofar as it contradicts common sense. The cropping principle is just such a counterintuitive notion. In considering the causes of organic diversity, we might expect that the introduction of a 'cropper' (either a herbivore or a carnivore) would reduce the number of species present in a given area: after all, if an animal is cropping food from a previously virgin area, it ought to reduce diversity and remove completely some of the rarer species.
In fact, a study of how organisms are distributed yields the opposite expectation. In communities of primary producers (organisms that manufacture their own nutrients by photosyntheses and do not feed upon other creatures), one or a very few species will be superior in competition and will monopolize space. Such communities may have an enormous biomass, but they are usually impoverished in numbers of species. Now, a cropper in such a system tends to prey on the abundant species, thus limiting their ability to dominate and freeing space for other species. A well-evolved cropper decimates - but does not destroy - its favorite prey species (lest it eat itself to eventual starvation). A well-cropped ecosystem us maximally diverse, with many species and few individuals of a any single species. Stated another way, the introduction of a new level in the ecological pyramid tends to broaden the level below it.
The cropping principle is supported by many field studies: predatory fish introduced in an artificial pond cause an increase in the diversity of zooplankton; removal of grazing sea urchins from a diverse algal community leads to the domination of that community by a single species.
Consider the Precambrian algal community that persisted for two and a half billion years. It consisted exclusively of simple, primary producers. It was uncropped and, for that reason, biologically monotonous. It evolved with exceeding slowness and never attained great diversity because its physical space was so strongly monopolized by a few abundant forms. The key to the Cambrian explosion, Stanley argues, is the evolution of cropping herbivores - single-celled protists that ate other cells. Croppers made space for a greater diversity of producers, and this increased diversity permitted the evolution of more specialized croppers. The ecological pyramid burst out in both directions, adding many species at lower levels of production and adding new levels of carnivory at the top.
How can one prove such a notion? The original cropping protist, perhaps the unsung hero of the history of life, probably was not fossilized. There is, however, some suggestive indirect evidence. The most abundant producer communities of the Precambrian are preserved as stromatolites (blue-green algal mats that trap and bind sediment). Today, stromatolites thrive only in hostile environments largely devoid of metazoan croppers (hypersaline lagoons, for example). Peter Garrett found that these mats persist in more normal marine environments only when croppers are artificially removed. Their Precambrian abundance probably reflects the absence of croppers.
Stanley did not develop his theory from empirical studies of Precambrian communities. It is a deductive argument based on an established principle of ecology that does not contradict any fact of the Precambrian world and seems particularly consistent with a few observations. In a frank concluding paragraph, Stanly presents four reasons for accepting his theory: (1) "It seems to account for what facts we have about Precambrian life"; (2) "It is simple, rather than complex or contrived"; (3) "It is purely biological, avoiding ad hoc invocation of external controls"; (4) "It is largely the product of direct deduction from an established ecological principle."
Such justifications to do not correspond to the simplistic notions about scientific progress that are taught in most high schools and advanced by most media. Stanley does not invoke proof by new information obtained from rigorous experiment. His second criterion is a methodological presumption, the third a philosophical preference, the fourth an application of prior theory. Only Stanley's first reason makes any reference to Precambrian facts, and it merely makes the weak point that his theory "accounts" for what is known (many other theories do the same).
But creative thought in science is exactly this - not a mechanical collection of facts and induction of theories, but a complex process involving intuition, bias, and insight from other fields. Science, at its best, interposes human judgment and ingenuity upon all its proceedings. It is, after all, (although we sometimes forget it), practiced by human beings.