I need to get hold of our favorite British solicitor, also known as the first Black dude in Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Does anyone know how I can reach him?

As a girl, young Katelyn Allers was told (by her father) not to worry about normal aspirations like marriage and family. Instead, dad encouraged her to go get a Ph.D., and settle into a mediocre teaching job at a shit-tier university.

Understandably bitter, after receiving such awful advice which derailed her life, Dr. Allers has decided to get even, by displacing the (natural) animosity toward her father into laughably false accusations against the one celebrity who once wasted a few minutes slumming with her.

A real genius, as the fedora and skank-ho tatts suggest…

Dr. Allers alleges that Neil DeGrasse Tyson “groped” her, is “creepy” and is “a danger to female students.” Dr. Allers knows this because she drunkenly came on to him at a party, and after bothering him for photographs together, he made an unfunny joke about her skanky tattoo.

Another wimminz, one Tchiya Amet (did she assume that name as an adult, or did her parents simply not like her?) is also claiming that Tyson “raped” her. Those claims appear completely unsubstantiated; though here’s a link to her rape fantasy, published some five years ago.

Incidentally, this is what Mizz Amet looks like…

So, what we have are baseless allegations against an autistic goon, who would probably win the prize for least masculine and least threatening man in any room. His accusers are two old, washed-up, hideously ugly wimminz, who suddenly “remember” that he raped them, years earlier.

What we have to be frightened of is the seriousness with which this nonsense is taken, and the real danger to anyone’s reputation.

But, nevermind about that. Let’s learn some science from this hot mama…

I happen to know that the minute I post this, people will assume that I’ve suddenly given up my Epicurean impulses, and am on my way down to enlist in the nearest monastery. An educated mind will apprehend the problems with this assumption. If we’re going to indulge in the task of thinking, we have to consider arguments carefully, and work to illuminate the inherent strengths and weaknesses therein.

A typical argument for atheism will often reduce to a discussion about theodicy. Theodicy is a fancy word that describes a presupposed relationship between a necessarily perfect being (God) and the existence of gratuitous evil.

The evil has to be gratuitous. I could argue that God giving me a stomach-ache is evil; but if my upset somehow alerts doctors to an epidemic, and ends up saving the lives of thousands of infants and pensioners, then that evil wasn’t gratuitous. The evil served a purpose, and in the grand scheme of things, that evil was a blessing-in-disguise.

We assume that God is necessarily perfect. If not, we assume (stretching Anselm to his limits) that God is, while imperfect, the closest thing to perfection that exists. Such a being (God) would not inflict gratuitous evil on others. This seems like an uncomplicated proposition.

So, how do we explain ISIS beheadings, the Holocaust, the Holodomor, Bosnian rape camps, or CIA torturers at Guantánamo Bay? How do we explain influenza, athletes foot, and syphilis? It seems, at first, contradictory, to declare the existence of God in the face of so many easy examples.

One problem with this declaration is that it’s proponent assumes a gods-eye-view of history, and necessarily places himself outside the temporal and physical universe. For the atheist to declare that some state-of-affairs X, is gratuitously evil, he’s implicitly declaring that there is no X’, which is good, and for which X is a necessary condition.

Earlier in the week, our brother Honeycomb wrote:

Also .. even if someone can’t prove God exists .. that doesn’t exclude His Omni-presence and Diety. You can’t prove a negative btw.

I can indeed prove a negative. For example: let P := ‘It is not the case that Boxer is presently on the planet Mars.’ Let Q := ‘It is not the case that two and two make twelve-and-a-half.’ Both P and Q are easily proven, via correspondence and coherence.

The problem with proofs of the existence of God is that they don’t easily line up with either the coherence or the correspondence understandings of truth. I could state that there’s a fine, small china teapot that’s orbiting the sun, someplace in the Oort cloud. Skeptics might not be able to prove the teapot’s non-existence, but that doesn’t mean that a sensible person should have credence in the teapot.

I bring this up not to pick apart a brother, but only to disambiguate between my position on theodicy and Honeycomb’s defense of his faith. It’s unreasonable to expect that we can stand outside time and history, and declare that there isn’t some meaningful historical good that will result from evils that we assume are gratuitous, for the same reason that it’s unreasonable to expect the average person to go searching the Oort cloud for Bertrand Russell’s teapot, or Honeycomb’s god.

It might seem like I pick on Derek a fair bit. He did piss me off, when he started posting under his full, legal name; but, in the end, I suspected he might be too valuable to run off. I wasn’t wrong. He consistently brings up interesting stuff, and his comments of yesterday are excuse enough for me to segue into a discussion of what I think atheism is, and isn’t.

Derek writes:

I see we are going to be distracted by the meanings of words again. Indeed, atheism is a proposition, or more accurately a set of various independent propositions. One such proposition is the following: “I know that there is no God.” There are others of various formulations, but those that can be distinguished from agnosticism are logically incoherent. Some are outright self-refuting. If you don’t find them to be such, I’ll just leave you to that.

Derek is a computer scientist who is also a Christian priest. For him to have such a shallow understanding of atheism (not to mention of propositional logic) is a bit off-putting. I believe he’s being jocular with this nonsense, but even if that’s true, he’s the best kind of troll.

One might be tempted to see ‘atheism’ as a long set of conjoined propositions, one of which declares that no gods exist. This is not a very coherent definition. For one thing, there exists no accepted definition of “god”. For polytheists, who worship multiple gods (and I count Christians in this category) omniscience and omnipresence are out. Jesus, for example, begged his father to save him from death. Taking the text at face value suggests that while Christians view Jesus as a god, he is less powerful than his father. He also didn’t know, for sure, what was going to transpire the next day. The Christian goddess Mary needed comfort from the angel who announced that she was going to give birth — and rightly so. It probably seemed to that young girl that she was going to be cast out of the tribe as a skank-ho single mom. The Hebrews didn’t go for that shit.

Who is cooler or more powerful: Wotan or Thor? Can Zeus catch Apollo in a foot race? No one knows.

So, given that we can’t really define what a god is, it’s difficult for an atheist to declare that he knows such indefinite characters don’t exist, someplace in the universe. Lots of things might exist: Superman, the present king of France, three-eyed fish in the cooling pond near Springfield’s reactor.

It’s also difficult to pinpoint existence. Does Superman exist? It seems like he doesn’t. Yet, he has a particular set of properties that seem to be true. If I say “Superman wears a cape,” I think that’s right. If I declare that “unicorns have one horn,” that seems to be an analytic truth, even if the signified is empty. A philosopher named Meinong set all this stuff down in a paper, a long time ago, arguing for the existence of every possible object. Well, maybe not existence. Perhaps persistence is the right word.

Linsky and Zalta are a couple of logicians who argue for the possibility of a God who is neither abstract nor concrete. Their paper is dense and technical, but I’ve hosted it locally. It seems to me that one could make the case for the non-existence but possible persistence of such a God. Meillassoux argues for a speculative realism, which allows for the atheist, who is sure that there exists no God, to entertain the possibility that a God might pop into existence, at some point in the future, and start telling us all what’s what. Why couldn’t such things happen? There are no universal laws that declare that the universe needs to suit us.

As Earl recently pointed out, our elder brother Roosh V. has taken to twitter to promote #thotaudit : a public-service program designed to get all our favorite camwhores (like Katie Emmerson and her mother, Sheila Gregoire) right with the IRS (and Revenue Canada.)

My right-wing brothers may be tempted to sympathy for the skank-ho single moms, who are just using the free-market to peddle their assholes and vaginas to desperate, thirsty simps. Please don’t kid yourself. These bitches sex-shows are often the most wholesome shit they do.

Some of these skank-ho sluts make 100,000 USD or more annually, for doing, well, pretty much nothing.

Don’t even bother feeling sorry for them. They get what they deserve.

#thotaudit : coming to a neighborhood near you.

So, this morning, a new slut hit me up on one of the dating sites. She told me her name, said she was a nurse who was having a hard time meeting folks in our town due to shift-work. She seemed eager, and told me that she was down to fuck, and her photos looked presentable. In keeping with protocol, I balked at inviting her to my house without a public meeting. She invited me to a place I knew, on my side of town, and offered to pay for my coffee, which was a nice touch.

What I had planned for the day was a whole lot of maxing and relaxing. I did want to go get some cheapo Christmas gift-type junk. Could I squeeze in a nooner as I was going about my business?

Yes, I thought, I could.

She made the date for noon, so I did my usual thing and arrived at 11:30. As I walked into the joint I found it had changed, somewhat, since my last visit. Only a few weeks ago, the dive featured tattered menus and servers in cargo shorts. (I live in a semi-tropical area of the world, and this isn’t unusual.) I arrived to find three new female waitresses, in uniforms, looking surprisingly hot.

I ordered my usual, and ate. It was getting close to noon with no sign of the bitch, so I got out my phone. I found the text-message indicator flashing.

Bitch at 11:57: R u there? Running a little late. 5 min. I hope

Me at 11:59: I am here already. Yes.

At 12:05, I realized that the bitch was five minutes late. I stopped at the register to chat up my waitress. She had a wedding ring, but we made small talk for a bit, and I wandered on out the door at 12:09. I leisurely got into my car, and started the drive to the shopping mall, to get my niece some fuzzy pink slippers, and my father a book, and my skank-ho cousin’s kids some manly stuff. I’ve forgotten about the slut at this point, and am on the interstate, when my phone starts going absolutely nuts.

Bitch at 12:12: I’m here but don’t see you

Incoming call at 12:13

Incoming call at 12:14

Incoming call at 12:14

Incoming call at 12:15

As I’m driving, I am hitting the “refuse call” button repeatedly. I have voice mail, but the bitch doesn’t care enough to use it. She just keeps calling. After eleven incoming call attempts, she gives up — or so I think. After I park and get out of the car, I find my text message indicator starts flashing again.

Bitch at 12:27: Why did u leave?

My M.O. is to ignore such people, as my time is valuable, and they’ve already been disrespectful. Even so, I thought I could illustrate the attitude of entitlement which is universal among skanky American wimminz on this blog. So, against years of experience, and all my better judgment, I answered the slut, grabbed a screenshot of the exchange, and then deleted her number.

I actually didn’t pull out of the parking lot until 12:10. I lied to her for two reasons:

1. To see if the bitch would behave as I predicted.
2. To let the slut know that my time is valuable, and give her the impression that I left immediately after the (already delayed) time agreed upon.

So, did the slut pretend to be a normal person, and apologize for her rudeness?

Of course she didn’t. She lied too, claiming that she was there while I was still in the restaurant. Bear in mind that there is only one door in or out of this place, and I could see every table as I left, three minutes after she supposedly “got there.”

What can the young brothers learn from this? Plenty. In the first place, from my field guide to running hoez:

42. If the bitch is two minutes late, go ahead and scoot out the door. Your time is valuable. Five minutes early is on time. One minute late is barely acceptable. Two is not.

I should never have agreed to meeting her five minutes later than arranged. What I should have done is to delete her number when she said she was running late.

By agreeing to delay the meeting, I did two things:

1. I signaled my desperation.
2. I trained the bitch to see my time as less valuable than hers.

The typical wimminz will not see you as a nice fella if you’re agreeable to her whims. The typical wimminz will see you as a chump for doing this, and will get the message that it is cool to waste your time.

Had I waited around until she showed up, I would likely have waited around while the bitch ate. I may have got some uninspired sex, after which I would have waited around at least an hour until the bitch quit jabbering mindlessly and left. By the time I’d gone out shopping, it easily would have been 4 PM.

Because I did not wait around until she showed up, my niece is getting a fuzzy pink bathrobe-slippers combination for Christmas. My father is getting an antiqued bible for his end table. My cousin’s kids are getting handheld Nintendo Switch video game machines.

I’d say everything turned out exactly as well as it should have.

You have a finite number of moments available before your death. Spend them on the people who matter, rather than wasting them on ingrates.

Dead as dirt: 27-year-old John Allen Chau

This story is not meant to be funny, but it’s really hard for me to imagine anything more ridiculously stupid. From the Times of India:

An American man was killed on an island inhabited by a tribe known to resist outside contact in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. And, his body still lies there.

The American was identified as 27-year-old John Allen Chau, who sources said was a Christian missionary who wanted to convert the Sentinelese tribe that inhabits the island where he was killed.

The Sentinelese are billed as murderous cannibals, and perhaps that’s true. One flat fact is that the Sentinelese don’t venture forth to bother other peoples with their religious ideas.

What a shame that my people don’t learn the simple and beautiful etiquette of this noble tribe.

Chau decided that he needed to bring the gospel of Jesus to the Sentinelese; but, visiting their island is prohibited. Laws were made to be broken! He bribed some poor local fishermen to smuggle him just offshore. The fishermen dropped him off with some scissors and a bottle of Coca-Cola, which he was apparently taking as gifts to the tribe.

The fishermen later saw Chau being attacked with arrows. “He was attacked by arrows but he continued walking,” news agency AFP reported, quoting sources. Local fishermen also saw the Sentinelese tying Chu’s body to a rope and dragged it along the ground.

You don’t fuck around with the Sentinelese

While Chau got himself killed, he also got the fishermen he bribed arrested. They’re facing long prison sentences. The article doesn’t specify just how many lives he ruined, but I’d guess it’s never enough.

The Sentinelese are immune to prosecution, and protected by Indian law.

While hack pseudojournalists at the BBC and NY Times are describing the Sentinelese as savage negroes, who kill for sport, I find it easier to believe that the Sentinelese have made an educated decision to protect their society from the ravages of artificial food, Christianity and feminism.

Who is the real savage, anyway?

Ask yourselves why any society, no matter how supposedly primitive, should let an American visit? America is famous for certain things, and those things include sodomy and divorce courts.

The Sentinelese must suspect that it is not in their long-term interests to have contact with trash like us, and I sympathize.

Having been convinced to give so-called white nationalism a fair review, I looked up David Lane’s opvs magnvm and started reading.

I now know why all you pale brothers look askance at my conquests of black and jewish tinder chicks. Why would I slum with such creatures, when there are precious, modest, feminine white flowers like the following, ripe for plucking into the marriage and childbirth cycle?

Why indeed?

Note: Special thanks to Jack for sending me this entertaining video.

American Thanksgiving is almost upon us. Holiday dinners approach, and with them come endless opportunities to shiv our friends and relatives — many of whom are cucks and libs. Asking your mom, as she plops to the table in pussy hat and #Resist getup, “who’s your president, bee-yatch?” is probably pretty tempting. It will also be nearly impossible to refrain from calling your uncle a faggot, since he is, in fact, a homosexual.

This sort of dysfunctional squabbling, satisfying as it might be, and common as it truly is, is actually pretty tasteless. I know. I know. This is unlike me. Hear me out, please.

You probably think this chick looks familiar. That’s because she’s Susan Rice, Barack Obama’s national security advisor. She was in and out of the spotlight for several years. As you might imagine, she and her husband are hardcore liberal democrats.

Now meet John Rice-Cameron. He’s the son of Susan and her husband. He’s currently matriculated at Stanford University, where he is the head of the “Make Stanford Great Again” club, a pro-Trump student collective. He is famous for putting signs around campus, that read “White Privilege is A Lie!” “Affirmative Action is Theft!” and “Defund San Francisco!” He’s celebrated in this post code for getting a deranged faculty member (ANTIFA-affiliated) stripped of his tenure and thrown out on his ass. Brother Boxer approves of his good work.

Given their opposing views on any number of issues, you might assume that John wastes time at holidays squabbling with his parents.

You’d be mistaken in assuming that the Rice family is as autistic as your family is. Susan Rice has given numerous statements to the same effect, to hate-filled pseudojournalists who want to foment a family squabble that they can gleefully cover in their phony gossip media circus.

A new strategy I suggest: Be a gracious man at the holidays. Be the man of good cheer. In short, be like Susan and John. Politics doesn’t really mean all that much, anyway.

When your family gathers around the table, pay close and careful attention to each, emphasizing the shared bonds between you. Love and pride are the watchwords. Respect for elders, honor for ancestors, praise for progeny, and epicurean delight in the carnal feast are your minimum standards. If you pray, thank whatever God or gods you worship for one more year in the presence of such beautiful people, your links to the past and the future.

If there are screechers, do not join them. Let them reveal themselves as petty people, desperately in need of food and attention. Then feed them turkey.

Apparently “some women” are being excluded from the award-winning Vagina Monologues production. Who could these women be? Straight women? Religious women? Sane women?

Survey respondents opposing the production consistently indicated they were concerned that the play centers on cisgender women, that the play’s version of feminism excludes some women, including trans women, and that overall, “The Vagina Monologue” lacks diversity and inclusion.

Weird trannies and male fags can’t larp as feminist dykes. As such, the play is being canceled.