This is what you look like when you chant like a mindless drone. Why not try formulating some logical arguments and then winning the debate with facts? Oh, too difficult? Okay, just go back to chanting.
You know you’ve won the debate when your opponent can’t even think of some dumb platitude as a rebuttal but just sits there in silent defeat…
The point is this: before you shit all over white men ask yourself where you would like to live if you were an oppressed minority. Probably not any African or Asian country. Not anywhere dominated by macho Latinos. Nope. You would want to live in a country run by white men, because they will grant you more rights and respects than any other nation on Earth.
Before you go to your stupid protest with a sign that reads “Fuck Capitalism” why not pull your head out of your ass and try to learn something?
You don’t even need to crack open a book. Just look at pictures of North Korea versus South Korea to figure it out. Same people, same geography, same history, same language, but vastly different results. What’s the difference? Yes, capitalism.
Without capitalism you have nothing. Literally. So put your stupid sign away, you’re embarrassing yourself.
It isn’t capitalism that is the problem. It is evil, violent criminals who steal the wealth that capitalism gives us. Figure it out, dummy. If we had your Marxist revolution we would all starve to death.
Of all the First World Problems you could be whining about, worrying about the weather has got to be the first-worldiest.
So let’s assume you’re right. Let’s assume that climate change is happening and the world is going to be 2 or 4 or 6 degrees warmer in 10, 20 or 50 years.
Okay, you win. But before you ask me to spend trillions of dollars to bring down the temperature a little bit you have to answer the next logical question:
What’s wrong with a slightly warmer planet?
Most climate change hysterics don’t realize that the Earth has been warmer than it is now at various times throughout it’s geological history, and in those warmer eras humans have thrived, becoming healthier and wealthier and happier than ever before. It is only when the temperature drops that we become miserable and freeze to death.
Slavery has been a part of human civilization for as long as there have been humans on this planet. In every country, in every era, people with power have enslaved the weakest and most vulnerable members of the race.
All African nations, all Asian nations, all European nations and all North and South American Indian nations practiced slavery.
So, in short, slavery has always existed and everyone went along with it and accepted it as just a way of life.
Oh, except for white European and North American men. They were the only people in the history of the world to realize that slavery is a horrible, morally-reprehensible condition and they were the only people in the history of the world to try to put a stop to it.
Just a good point to remember the next time some dummy tries to argue about slavery and racism and reparations and other ridiculous nonsense. They might not realize that slavery has nothing to do with race, as people of all races have been enslaved. The word slavery itself comes from the word Slavs, who are the white eastern European people who were the world’s first slaves.
They also might not realize that white people didn’t go to Africa and kidnap black people and make them slaves.
White people went to Africa and bought slaves from slave-owning black warlords. And then they freed them.
As the comic Jarrod Carmichael said (I’m paraphrasing here):
“Thank God for slavery. If it weren’t for slavery I’d be living in Africa right now! Africa! Instead I have my own HBO stand up comedy special!”
You see, Jarrod understands that living in America is about a million times better than living in most parts of Africa. African-Americans are the richest black people on the planet, even though they are the “poorest” Americans.
Face it, if you were about to give birth to a black child which country would you want that child born in? Would you risk him being born in some African country where he might end up a child soldier in some evil Islamic death cult?
No, if you had a choice, you would have that child born in Alabama or Mississippi, because those states are enlightened havens of liberalism compared to much of the rest of the world.
Maybe it’s because I live in Canada but it’s really hard to get excited about a 4 degree warming trend over the next 100 years. First of all, humans like warmer temperatures so it’s hard to see how a warmer climate would cause us too many problems.
Studies have clearly shown that cold weather is much more dangerous to humans than warm weather. Also, the Earth has been warmer than it is today at various times in the past 250,000 years and during those warmer periods humans did far better than during any ice age.
That’s why the solution to climate change can be summed up in one word:
Yes, humans are the masters of adaptation to the environment. We can live anywhere on the planet and in any weather. Here in Canada the climate changes every year. In the summer it’s regularly 30 degrees Celcius and in the winter it can easily drop to -20. That’s a 50 degree change in 6 months! And what do we do? We adapt. You think we can’t adapt to an extra 4 degrees over the next 100 years. You’re an idiot.
In “The Matrix”, Morpheus asks Neo “have you ever had a dream that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream – how could you tell the difference between the dream world and the real world?”
There’s a whole metaphor there about reality and delusion et cetera and it’s been done to death by everyone who thinks they’re a smart guy on the internets, but almost nobody understands the flipside of this coin and asks the counterpart question, which is what I’m going to ask you now:
Have you ever had a dream where you realized you were dreaming while you were still dreaming?
Some people never have, some people have on occasion, and to some people (like the undersigned) it happens all the time. This post will probably be easier for you and give you more if you have some experience of what I’m talking about, but if you don’t I’m going to walk you through it and you can probably follow just fine. It’s not a contest or an achievement to lord over anybody.
Imagine (or remember) that you’re dreaming, and things are happening in the dream, and you suddenly find yourself becoming aware of the fact that you are dreaming. How does that make you feel? What’s your reaction? What do you “do” in the dream once your know it’s a dream?
The first and most obvious realization you have at that point should be that nothing in the dream means anything or is of any consequence – it’s all just stuff your unconscious brain made up and as soon as you wake up it’ll be like it never was.
Nothing in the dream can really hurt you, and there’s nothing to really achieve. Nothing can be won or lost through your actions because it’s just a dream.
The only reason you could possibly have to take any action at all is to have a more pleasant dreaming experience. Nothing “matters” in the slightest, because the dream consists of nothing at all except your experience of the dream.
To realize this in a dream is awesome. There’s nothing to fear and everything to play with. You’re free to run around and find exciting things to drive or fight or have sex with – it’s better than any video game. It’s pretty much better than anything 99% of people ever get to do while they’re awake. There is basically nothing about the realization that it’s all meaningless and nothing matters that isn’t 100% pure awesome.
But when people have the same realization while awake… oh boy, do they take it hard and become whiny bitches. “Boo hoo, my life has no purpose, my work means nothing, no one will remember me when I’m dead and I’m pretty sure no one even cares now!” Well, hello from customer service, excuse me sir but where’s the problem?
You just had the most liberating experience it’s possible for a human being to have in this dreamstate we call “life”, and instead of enjoying your new-found freedom to the fullest and experiencing this “life” dream for everything it has to offer, you are sitting there crying like your Playstation just broke.
You probably believe that woman earn only about 78 per cent as much money as men. And that is utter horseshit.
Let me explain it in such simple turns that even a retarded child could understand. Maybe even a Social Justice Warrior.
Okay, step one. If you take all the men in the world and all the wages they earn and average it out, then that number will be about 20 per cent higher than if you take all the women in the world and all of the wages they earn and average it out.
Yes, on average, men make approximately 20 percent more money than women.
But the world is not an average place. So that number is meaningless.
The question you have to ask it: Why do men make more money, on average, than women?
Well, it’s really very simple. Virtually all of the dirty, disgusting, dangerous, shitty and life-threatening jobs are done by men. And those jobs pay more. And that pushes up the average. Simple.
On that page you will learn that 99% of coal miners are men; 99% of garbage collectors are men; 100% of deep sea fishermen are men; 100% of electrical power line installers are men; 100% of roughnecks (work the oil drill) are men; 99% of auto repair mechanics are men; 99% of roofers are men; 100% of heating, air conditioning and refrigeration mechanics are men; 98% of metal fabricators are men; 97% of aircraft maintenance and service technicians are men; 95.5% of firefighters are men; 92% of construction workers are men; 88% of patrol officers are men.
And if that isn’t clear enough, women also earn less – on average – because the average woman chooses to work less hours and take jobs that are more flexible (and thus pay less) because the average woman wants to have children and wants to spend as much time as possible with those children.
It’s really not that difficult to understand. And it certainly isn’t any male patriarchy that’s making it happen. If men had that much power they would send the women off to do all the shitty jobs and get killed in the line of duty. But men don’t. Because men are kind, sweet people who would do anything to protect women from all the dangerous bullshit of the world.
Do we really have to listen to people whining about the fact that black people aren’t up for any Oscars this year?
Hey, the award isn’t for having the darkest skin, the award is for doing exceptional work on an exceptional movie.
Do you really want us to give you an Oscar for being not quite as good as some other person, but, you know, having slightly darker skin than that person, and so, you know, you should probably get that award because you’re almost the best, and you’re also black, so, you know, close enough.
Wrong. Shut the fuck up and make a better movie next year. That’s how you win an Oscar.
There is something so hard for people to admit that most would deny its obvious truth. The truth is too shameful.
The truth is that wherever you are is where you want to be. Whatever you are doing is what you want to do. You do not need to learn time management. You are managing your time exactly how you want to. It’s not a failure of willpower. You are exerting your will exactly as you want to.
Does your life suck? Do you suffer from some medical ailment? Are you fat? Do you have trouble meeting people? Are you in debt? Does your job suck?
If so, why haven’t you changed? It is the 21st century. Have you ever looked at this thing called the Internet? Have you been to a public library? Have you shopped at Amazon? Do you know about online message forums?
Pick the most obscure subject in the world and I guarantee there is a web forum devoted to it.
I had a strange skin ailment afflict me. This ailment is so rare that it’s not even diagnosed by most doctors. Yet there is a message board devoted to the subject. There are hundreds of people exchanging stories and tips. I was able to find the leading researcher on this ailment. I also learned that a trip to the Dead Sea will basically cure me. I just need to get “well enough” in order to take the trip.
If I can find out how to cure something that affects something like .0001% of the population, why are you fat and miserable? Why can’t you get laid? Why is your credit garbage?
It sure isn’t because you lack information. There are probably a dozen different dieting books that would help you lose weight. Paleo, vegetation, fruitarian, South Beach, Zone…Pick one. They will all work.
How many books are there with “personal finance” in the title? Suze Orman and Dave Ramsey’s books are cheesy but they undoubtedly work. No one who has actually followed the advice has ever said, “Total Money Makeover doesn’t work!” Buy one and follow it. That’s all it takes to become debt free.
The saddest secret in the world is that you’re miserable by choice. You don’t want to get better. You are content to wallow in your own fecal matter, like a hog.
I personally have no problem with that. It’s your life. Do your thing.
Just don’t act as if you aren’t, with each decision made day after day, singularly responsible for ruining it.
Last week President Barack Obama started a bunch of whining by saying a word.
“Racism, we are not cured of it. And it’s not just a matter of it not being polite to say nigger in public.”
I’ve been saying it for years, and now Obama has made it official. Yes, sometimes it is okay to say the word nigger.
When is it okay? Well, whenever you are not using the word to insult or denigrate another person. You cannot call someone a nigger. That’s obvious.
But what if there is a movie that uses the word a few hundred times. Then, it is perfectly okay to say “Django Unchained uses the word nigger 213 times.” The word is not harming anyone. It is simply stating a fact. It’s just a word. Get over it.
Only Black People Can Use the Word Nigger
Black people will say that only black people can say the word nigger. But black people have been fighting for equal rights for decades. “Equal” rights. That means black people have the right to do anything that white people (or any other person, whatever color they are) are allowed to do.
But doesn’t it follow that white people should be allowed to do anything that black people are allowed to do? That’s what “equal” means, isn’t it? If a black person can say nigger shouldn’t a white person be able to say nigger? You can’t have it both ways. We are either all equal and are all allowed to use the word or we are all equal and nobody is allowed to use the word.
How to Teach Your Child the N-Word
Besides, how are we going to teach our children not to say that word if we can’t tell them what the word is?
Parent: You cannot say the N-word.
Child: Which N-word.
Parent: I’m not allowed to say it. Just don’t use it.
Child: Nascar? Noodles? Numbskull? Nasty?
Parent: Shut up! Just don’t say the N-word! Go to your room!
This is the transcript of an episode of Stefan Molyneux’s Freedomain Radio, in which he gives probably the single greatest answer ever to the most common complaint you will inevitably hear from a whiny, self-absorbed, modern, educated, working person. Take it away, Stefan…
“This is about the most common question that I get, and I am going to give you the answer of answers. This will be the video that we will be directing all the people to who ask this question:
"Stef, I've been working at the same job now lo these four years. No promotions or raises. I've noticed recently that I am very apathetic towards my job. I do it to the letter, but nothing extra, no initiative and no fulfillment. I like the job. The people are great and I realize this apathy comes from a lack of incentive for a raise or promotion. The company I work for doesn't do raises and prefers to just replace older, more experienced people when they inevitably leave. But, here's the kicker... The new people are always hired at higher salaries than older personnel which makes no sense to me. This, of course, only serves to aggravate the situation as there's policy against discussing wages, but people talk anyway. I fear I'm falling in a vicious circle — I think he means "cycle" — of not showing any initiative because of lower wages, and that leads to my superiors not considering me for any advancement. I used to be a top performer in my team, but now I just grind away, just achieving, but not overachieving. So the question is: How do I deal with work apathy? Is this job salvageable, or do I have to start fresh?"
Hmm, I guess my answer to this and many other questions about motivation is — you’re going to die.
Let me tell you something ironic. The very first video I ever did on YouTube was “Live Like You Are Dying” which was , you know, when you’re on your deathbed you can look back and what decisions you will want to have made, and what will you regret and what will you be proud of? And, that’s one way to guide your life.
Last year, a very aggressive form of cancer struck me, and I went through chemo, radiation therapy… and boy, don’t you hate it when you have to go from theory to practice. It’s one thing to waffle burger on about Death’s door closing over you like Bruce, the giant shark from Jaws’s mouth, but it’s quite another thing to wake up and feel like Wile E. Coyote stuck at the bottom of a cartoon canyon with the anvil of death fast approaching.
So, let me remind you and tell you once again. You, my friend, are going to die.
Now, maybe your death will be a quick death. Maybe, you’ll get hit by a bus while listening to Van Halen.
I don’t know.
Maybe, you will suffer an aneurysm during the greatest orgasm of your life. Well, I guess it will have to be a pretty good one cause it will be your last. Maybe, you’ll have a life ending moment where you won’t have a chance to process regrets, where you won’t have a chance to look at your life. Where you won’t be like the comic shop owner in the Simpsons. When the nuclear bomb hits and he says, “I’ve wasted my life”, just before he dies. Maybe, that won’t happen. But it probably will.
You will probably get news of an illness that will give you months in which to reflect.
You will probably have a long time in a hospital bed knowing, really, that you’re never going to get out of that bed again — that’s a one-way ticket. The bed opens up, you fall into the ground, they throw some dirt in your face, say a few hymns, and get on with their lives.
What’s that hospital bed gonna be like for you?
See, you’re complaining about life. “I have too many choices!” you say. “I have too many
options. I could leave. I could stay, but I just don’t seem to have, oh, too much motivation
to do anything.
You’re breathing aren’t ya!? You know, that in-and-out thing, the chest going up and down, oxygenated blood running through your system firing up your muscles to do anything you want with this incredible gift called life. Four million—four billion years in the making… Amoeba had sex in the primordial slime to grant you the opportunity of doing anything you want in this incredible world. Maybe, they didn’t even like each other. But, they’re like, “it’s for that guy down the road, man. I mean, I know we’re only Amoebas—I know we’re only slime. It’s like having sex with a jellyfish and I’m not even in to jellyfish.
But, let’s put our gross bits together, make another piece of slime, who can make another piece of slime, who can make some seaweed, who can make some fish, who can make a frog, who could make a lizard, who could make a dinosaur, who could step on a mammal, who can pray for the ice to crush the dinosaurs, so they can evolve into monkeys, split off into Neanderthals, Paleolithics, hominids, human beings, Homo sapiens…” All for you!
The universe has repulsively fucked itself senseless to give you life! Aah! And, you’re complaining that you’re just not that motivated at work! Really?! Really?!
Every day is a gift. It’s a cliché because nobody lives that way. Clichés are stuff that everybody accepts and nobody lives. “I’ll do anything for my children.” Stop hitting them. Stay home with them. “Well, no. Not that. I mean, I love my condo downtown, and I find spending time with my kids can be a little dull, so…” No. “I love my wife. I would do anything for my wife.” Put down the iPad and chat with her. “Well, no. There is a breaking story on Fox News that might be interesting. I can chat about it with her later.
Clichés are what everybody knows to be true and almost nobody lives by. You know you’re dying, right? You know that your days are grains of sand in an hourglass, right?
And frankly, you’re whining about living in the most advanced economy, in the freest political time, with the greatest wealth and abundance, with the most opportunities that any carbon-based life form on this planet has ever had.
The dinosaurs were like, “Uh, I don’t know I’ll eat another dinosaur. I’ll shit bits of scale out in the bottom. Oh shit, an asteroid!” (makes explosion sound) That’s it for them. All they can hope for is to be resurrected in CGI. You know, there are billions of bacteria in your belly. What would they give to trade places with your neo-frontal cortex, and be the robot operator of this giant flesh machine of opportunity? I mean, do you want to switch places with them and watch fucking tacos slide by slowly turning into goo to fuel your muscles so you can flap your mouth hole complaining about your life?! You’re not bacteria in your colon! Yay!. That’s great! Yay, to not being bowel infested bacteria. Urm, good! That’s a great way to start the day, and you don’t have to have sex with other bacteria that are rolling around in your own shit. Yeah! Isn’t that a beautiful way to start the day?
I mean, I get it. Look, I get it. I will slide into this from time to time and can kvetch
and complain, and so on… a little bit less then when I got cancer, but it happens. I
get it and I—you know, I give this speech to myself too. Like, “Yay, don’t have to
have sex with an amoeba. Always a good day, I mean, unless you regularly make out with
your beanbag and get an erection. It’s not the best way to spend your Saturday night.
I guarantee you my friend that when you get to that one-way hospital bed from which you
will not arise… You know, you’re driving in traffic, an ambulance goes by. “Damn, that’s annoying. Got to pull over.” You know that ambulance? Well, you know that ambulance, one day, is going to have you in it, and you will be going to the hospital and you will not be coming home. Your half-finished cup of coffee, Sudoku, and crosswords will never be finished. You know that book you were always thinking about writing never will be written! That instrument you wanted to learn how to play, that song you wanted to sing, the poem you wanted to write, that business you wanted to start, that woman you wanted to ask out… It will never happen because that ambulance has no reverse… it goes down the road to that hospital. You get carted out the back. It goes to pick someone else up, and you ain’t never going home. You ain’t never going back. The only home you’re going to is a coffin or an urn, and people will be sad for a little while, and like everybody else in the world, they move on with their lives.
I guarantee you when you’re in that hospital bed, you will look back and you will
say, “God damn, I wish I had the problems that I had twenty years ago, or ten years
ago, or even yesterday.” At the End Times of your final days, what would you not trade
to be back where you are right now, complaining about all of these excesses of choice. You
know, I don’t get a lot of letters from people stuck in gulags saying, “you know, it’s kind
of like the same day over and over again. You know, they toss me out of bed and I got
to go working hacking ice sculptures for Putin. I don’t get—because those people have no
choices—I don’t get a lot of letters from people in prison saying, “I just don’t know
how to have a great day. I mean, what should I do? I don’t know. Do what the guards tell
you cause you got no choice.
You are complaining about having choices, being alive, being healthy… So, fuck, quit
your job. Start a company. Ask the woman out of your dreams. Ask the man out of your dreams.
Seize it! Seize it! Do something! Take a risk, or don’t take a risk, but be satisfied with
where you are. But complaining is like taking a slow, deuce-y dump on the only meal you’re ever going to get, then complaining about the taste. Your life is your meal. You are the cook. I’m sorry you had a tough childhood. I totally am. I get that. I’m sorry you don’t have people in your life shaking you by the neck and trying to rouse some energy, some rainbows shooting out of your spine, some fireworks with which to dazzle the planet,
or your neighbor, or your dog, or your fucking goldfish, or at least yourself. I’m sorry
you don’t have that. I guess I’ll bungee in and try and do that for you. There is no law,
no compulsion, no law of physics or man that is preventing you from living the life that
you want. Quit your job. Go travel. Go pick grapes in Queensland. Go scale the Andes.
Go pick garbage in Paris. It doesn’t matter, but do something to honor those repulsively
copulating pieces of DNA that got the whole gig started because we have a hell of a lot
more opportunity for fun, satisfaction, virtue, power, and brilliance than they ever had.
Don’t say “no” to the greatest gift in the entire universe.