Black Science Man Pounded by ME TOO

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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…

My Problems of (with) Theodicy


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 := ‘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.

Some Thoughts on Atheism


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.

Friends (Again)


Note: This is part two in a series by Emil Marchand. If you haven’t already, find the first part here.

I held myself back and winced inside as she pulled records out and looked at them. I keep them in alphabetical order…….but I held myself in check. She was randomly pulling out LPs and just all over herself about my collection. I also reminded myself “hey, you told her to go ahead and swim, go easy here….”

“Wow…..this would be so cool, you know……a rainy day thing, just hang out and listen to records all day! That would be so much fun!” She said smiling at me.

“Yeah! It really would be fun do that!” I said in agreement while waiting for the kettle to boil, “Oh, here, let me show you the system if you want to play one.” I turned on the Sansui receiver from 1966, and the trusty Technics deck that I have lovingly owned since 1987. “You know how to handle records, right?”

She smiled, nodded “Yeah, my dad, the old man has some and he showed…” she stopped, realizing that I am about her dad’s age, a gentle faux pas on her part…….”But he’s cooler than most guys my age. He really is.”

Nice save I thought to myself. I smiled, gently touched her hair as I went back to the kitchen to pour the kettle, it was just about ready to whistle.

The cat at this point decided to make his entrance back to where the action was, he slyly poked his head out of the closet “Oh…..hey, hey you come here! You’re so handsome!” She said gently to him, “What’s the cats’ name?” she asked. “Nixon.” I said with smirk, and the cat upon hearing his name looked eagerly in my direction, as to get approval from me to come out.

“Handsome boy,” she said to him as he slowly trotted over to be petted “Wasn’t Nixon a crook?” she asked as she petted the cat…….

“Not by today by standards.” I said watching the tea steep in the teapot, “I named him Nixon because he was the president when I was born. That’s all. Easy to remember.”

The conversation rolled forward with tea, Devonshire cream and some honey. Records were spun and lots more laughs were shared, another fast two hours passed……but I knew it had to come out soon…………

What was this “it”? It was me explaining or telling this pretty woman I am a practicing Christian…I was trying to figure a way to let it come out naturally into the conversation……at one point I thought that I would not even have to bring “it” up, but that was not to be the case.

As the conversation lulled a bit, and I poured the last bit of tea into her cup she slowly stood up……and slowly put her arms around my neck……she was so spritefully cute that she had arch up on her toes to reach me. I liked it.

“Hey…” she said quietly while smiling, “You’re a pretty cool guy. I just want to say, I am having a great time…..” I smiled back. Looking down into her brown eyes. Now big eyed women are not the most attractive per say….but yeah, they are compelling for sure. She was a cutie for sure. “This is great, but you know it’s getting late…”

She laughed hard “What the matter? Do you turn into a pumpkin after 10 o’ clock?” she relaxed her arms, and brushed her arms with hands up to the top button of my shirt, and unbuttoned it. “I was thinking, well……I wouldn’t mind staying here tonight, a sleepover…….would be fun? Don’t you think?” She unbuttoned the next button on my shirt.



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.

On Being and Time

005675So, 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.