Libelpedia

High-Level Ideas

Dave Rubin is interviewing Jared Taylor, the founder of American Renaissance, on The Rubin Report.

Dave Rubin: So, Jared, tell the viewers about your latest theory.

Jared Taylor: Certainly. I think the mind is an invisible ghost.

Just as Physical Jared announces his theory, Ghost Jared leaves his body and sits down next to him, in a ghostly chair that looks like Physical Jared’s physical chair. Ghost Jared is wearing special Bright Vision goggles.

Physical Dave: A ghost? Like those things in movies that go through walls?

Physical Jared: Correct.

Physical Dave: Care to…care to say more on that?

Physical Jared: Certainly. I believe that our psychological ghost grows in proportion to our physical body. Huwhen we’re babies huwith tiny physical bodies, we have tiny psychological bodies. Huwhen we have adolescent physical bodies, we have adolescent psychological bodies. And huwhen we have adult physical bodies, we have adult psychological bodies.

On the other side of the room, Ghost Dave, who looks like a teenager, leaves Physical Dave’s body, summons his own ghostly chair and sits down next to Physical Dave. Ghost Dave is wearing Stevie Wonder sunglasses.

Physical Dave: That’s…a high-level idea. What made you think of this stuff?

Physical Jared: Well, I was thinking about huwhat it is our minds do and I concluded that they must have sensory organs.

Physical Dave: Explain to the viewers what you mean by “censor re-organs.”

Ghost Dave: WHAT THE FUCK IS A CENSOR RE-ORGAN?!?!?!!?

Physical Jared: Certainly. I think our minds have all the sensory organs that our physical bodies have: a pair of eyes, ears and hands and a nose and tongue.

Physical Dave: So, if your ghost has eyes, that must mean it can…see stuff, right?

Physical Jared: Correct. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, “the mind’s eye,” before.

Physical Dave: Yeah. I think I heard that in Star Wars. What can the mind’s eye see?

Physical Jared: Non-physical things. Smart people’s ghosts can see a lot of non-physical things in clear detail, huwhile idiots’ ghosts are completely blind. And since people huwith good vision find blind people annoying, smart people find stupid people painful. If you go to a party huwith a blind guy, they’ll walk into walls on the way there and you’ll be late.

Ghost Dave loses interest in the interview, wanders away and walks into a wall.

Physical Jared: If you take them to a restaurant on a date, they won’t be able to read the menu or find the bathroom or table. And that’s huwhat you have to do with stupid people: read the menu for them and help them find the bathroom or table.

Physical Dave taps the table between them.

Physical Dave: Well, I found this table! And the bathroom is backstage! So I must have good eyes!

Ghost Jared facepalms.

Physical Dave: So, what sort of non-physical things can my smart ghost see?

Physical Jared: “Smart ghosts,” as you say, are good at seeing patterns, allowing them to craft good analogies. They’re also good at seeing absurdities in the world, huwhich makes them funny.

Physical Dave: That sounds like me! I used to be a really funny comedian with great allergies!

Physical Jared: …A smart ghost can also see themselves clearly, huwhile a stupid person has no self-awareness. Smart ghosts can see others clearly, too. They know huwhen people are laughing at them, huwhereas a stupid ghost won’t notice.

A studio audience suddenly appears in front of them, consisting of the ghosts of the laughing left, whom only Ghost Jared can see. In the first row are the sneering faces of Sam Seder, Michael Brooks, Kyle Kulinski, Cenk Uygur, Ana Kasparian and Jamie Peck. In the second row are Vaush, Hasan Piker, Jon Stewart, John Oliver, Seth Meyers and Jimmy Kimmel. Michael Brooks is wearing Bright Vision goggles, while Kyle, Cenk, Vaush and Hasan are teenagers wearing Stevie Wonder sunglasses. The Rubin Report is now a sitcom.

Physical Dave: Interesting. Well, we’ve got about a minute left, so how about you give the audience a quick summary of the whole Caspar thing?

The studio audience laughs.

Sam Seder: “Caspar.” What a child.

Physical Jared: Certainly. A smart person’s psychological eyes are cameras that can “zoom out” from a situation and see the forest for the trees.

Ghost Jared presses a button on his Bright Vision goggles and a wormhole appears in the studio’s spacetime. He dives in headfirst and lands on a street corner, where a bearded, 65 year old man is begging a rich guy for change.

Poor guy: Please…could you spare any change?

Rich guy: Fuck off.

Poor guy: But…but…I’m Dave Rubin!

Canned laughter.

Rich guy: Who?

Poor guy: …The former host of The Rubin Report!

Rich guy: Never heard of it.

Canned laughter.

Poor guy: You know…the show that the left cancelled when I interviewed the white supremacist, Jared Taylor.

Ghost Jared: Huwow. Huwhat a bleak future!

Ghost Jared dives back in the wormhole and lands back in the studio.

Physical Jared: …A smart ghost’s eyes are also temporal telescopes that can look several moves ahead and see negative consequences in the future, huwhich makes smart people good at literal and figurative chess.

Out of the same wormhole emerges Ghost Jared two minutes from now, who nudges Present Ghost Jared.

Future Ghost Jared: Just a heads up: Because Rubin’s an extroverted dumbass that doesn’t know his husband hates you, he’s going to try to introduce you to him after the show. You may have to bite the bullet or he might not invite you back on.

Future Ghost Jared jumps back in the wormhole.

Physical Jared: …A smart person’s psychological ears can hear the pain or smile in a singer’s voice huwhen they sing a song. Their psychological noses can smell bullshit, sarcasm and danger from a mile away and their psychological hands can feel the love or tension in a room.

Ghost Dave: Fuck…how do I summarize all this shit?

Physical Dave: Man, you sure know how to give a closing statement! *Turns to the camera to give his final monologue* Well, that’s it for The Rubin Report tonight! I gotta say, my brain is officially in recovery mode after hearing all of those high-level ideas!

Michael Brooks literally dies laughing and becomes an actual ghost.

Physical Dave: Make sure to hit that Like button and subscribe to our YouTube channel!

On Rubin’s teleprompter, Ghost Dave can see words on the screen, while Ghost Jared can see a video of Sam Seder reporting a news story from his New York studio.

Sam Seder: In other news, far-right media “personality” Dave Rubin choked to death on a rock this morning. *Pulls out a champagne bottle from underneath the desk* Truly a…tragedy.

The teleprompter emits heavy sarcasm particles that fill Ghost Jared’s nostrils.

Rubin finishes his report and the cameras and teleprompter turn off. Physical Jared and Physical Dave stand and shake hands. Ghost Jared looks tired and Ghost Dave looks energetic.

Physical Dave: Thank you so much, Jared! I think the interview’s gonna get a lot of views on YouTube! So many great ideas!

Canned laughter.

Ghost Jared: Huwow. He can’t see how patronizing my facial expressions are.

Physical Jared: Not a problem.

Ghost Dave checks out Physical Jared’s ass, unaware of Ghost Jared’s awareness.

Ghost Dave: That’s a high-level ass.

Physical Dave sees his husband, Dave Janet, smoking weed backstage. Ghost Jared can see Ghost Husband standing there too, waving a giant red flag.

Physical Dave: Oh, look, there’s Dave! *Turns to Jared* I should introduce you to my husband, Dave!

Ghost Jared dives into the wormhole.

Physical Jared: No need. I’ve got a flight to catch.

Physical Dave: Oh, come on, Jared! If you miss your flight, I’ll buy you another plane ticket!

Ghost Jared comes back out of the wormhole hurriedly.

Ghost Jared: DO. NOT. INTRODUCE. ME. TO. HIM.

Physical Dave: C’mon! It’ll only take a minute or so! *Takes Physical Jared’s hand and leads him over to his husband*

Ghost Jared: Huwow! He can’t read cues! Maybe Charles Murray was wrong about Jews and huwhites!

Physical Dave: Hi Dave! *He leans in to kiss Physical Husband, who pushes him away*

The studio audience howls with laughter.

Physical Dave: …What’s wrong, Dave?

Physical Husband: Nothin’ *Takes another puff of his joint*

Physical Dave: Hey, Dave…c’mon, honey. You’re gunna set the smoke alarm off.

Ghost Husband pukes on the floor.

Physical Husband: Whatever.

Physical Dave: Well…er…Jared, this is my husband, Dave. Dave, this is Jared.

Physical Jared smiles and extends his hand, which Physical Husband refuses to shake.

Ghost Husband: Fuck off, Nazi scum.

Ghost Jared: Huwow! He can’t sense that I sense his aggression!

Physical Dave: Me and Dave are going on a date tonight. I’ve booked a reservation at my favorite restaurant.

Physical Husband: Yeah…that’ll be fun. *Rolls his eyes*

Ghost Husband (yelling in Ghost Dave’s ear): SARCASM!!!!!!!!!

Ghost Dave: HUH!?!?!?! I LIKE STAR WARS!

Physical Dave: I know, right?!

Canned laughter.

Physical Jared (looking at husband): So, huwhat do you do, sir?

Physical Dave: Well, er, I guess Dave’s job is to watch the show and tell me his opinion on it.

The stench of fish fills Ghost Jared’s nose.

Physical Dave: What did you think of the show tonight, Dave? Did you like all the ideas?

Physical Husband: Eh. Trash.

Physical Dave frowns.

Canned laughter.

Physical Husband: What are the Patreon numbers like?

Physical Dave: We’re getting over $12,000 a month.

Ghost Husband snatches Ghost Dave’s wallet from his pocket and counts his money.

Physical Husband: Well, that’s good, I guess.

Ghost Jared scans the room for love particles but sees only resentment and tension molecules.

Physical Dave: Yeah! Well, we should get going, since —

Dave Janet’s phone goes off and he answers it.

Physical Husband: Hello? *His eyes light up* Oh, hey there, handsome! Haven’t spoken to you in a while! What’s up?

Physical Dave stands there with Physical Jared awkwardly, waiting for his husband to hang up the phone. Some of the SJWs in the studio audience literally die laughing.

Kyle Kulinski: Oh god. This is the Larry King thing all over again. Hahahaha.

Physical Husband: Oh, you wanna…? Sure. Sounds hot. Yeah, sure. I’ll book a hotel room. *Pause* No, of course he won’t find out. *Pause* Okay, see you soon! *Hangs up*

Physical Dave: Who was that?

Physical Husband: Shhh.

The studio audience cackles at the irreverent disrespect. Physical Husband dials a number on his phone and waits.

Physical Husband (on phone): Hey, I’d like to book a hotel room for two people tonight. *Pauses* Dave Janet. *Pauses* Yes, I have. *Pauses* I’d like a double bed. *Pauses* Just for the night. *Pauses and turns to Physical Dave* Give me your credit card.

Physical Dave pulls his credit card out and hands it to his husband, who reads out the card details to the receptionist on the phone.

Physical Husband (still on phone): …Yep. And check-out is when? *Pause* Okay. Bye. *Hangs up the phone*

Physical Husband: I might have to take a rain check on that date tonight. I’m going to meet a friend at a hotel. We’re going to talk about business stuff. Oh, and I might keep this. *Pockets the credit card*

Physical Dave: …Oh. *Looks deflated* M’kay. Maybe another time, then.

Canned laughter.

Physical Husband flicks his ash all over the studio’s carpet and puts his joint out in the wall, burning a hole in it. He heads for the exit —

Physical Jared: Not so fast there, sir!

Physical Husband stops in his tracks and turns around swiftly.

Physical Husband: Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?

Physical Jared: I am talking to a pot-smoking liar, cheater, gold digging parasite and asshole. Sir.

The laughter of the studio audience dies down.

Physical Husband: …You – you white supremacist piece of shit!

Ghost Husband: …You – you white supremacist piece of shit!

Physical Jared: Well, at least you’re finally being honest.

Physical Dave: Come on, Jared. Don’t talk to my husband like that!

Physical Jared: Your husband isn’t going to a hotel to talk about “business stuff,” David. He’s going to cheat on you huwith another man. He thinks he can get away huwith it because you’re too stupid to notice, but he was too stupid to notice that I notice.

Ghost Jared waves at Ghost Husband, who notices him for the first time.

Confused and hurt, Physical Dave looks at his husband for an explanation.

Physical Husband: He’s lying, dude. Don’t believe him.

Physical Jared: David, your husband doesn’t love you. He thinks you’re inferior, huwhich is huwhy he won’t even use your name or touch you. And now he’s trying to manipulate you into hating me.

Physical Husband’s phone rings again.

Physical Jared: …And that will be the man he’s having sex huwith tonight.

Ring, ring.

Physical Dave: Dave? Is – is Jared right? Is that your secret lover calling?

Physical Husband: Of course it isn’t.

Ghost Jared gets a strong whiff of bullshit.

Physical Dave: Can I answer the phone, then?

Physical Husband: No!

Physical Dave: But I’m your husband, Dave. Don’t you trust me?

Physical Husband: Look. Just…just…look…just fuck off, okay? Fuck. Off. FUCK OFF. We’re done.

Ghost Husband puts his joint out in Ghost Dave’s heart, burning a hole in it. Ghost Dave lifts his Stevie Wonder sunglasses ever so slightly, revealing tears underneath.

Physical Dave: …J-Jared’s right, isn’t he? Y-you…you don’t…you don’t even love me. I can’t believe it. Did you…did you ever love me?

Physical Husband: Of course I didn’t, you fucking retard. You and your “battle of ideas” are an embarrassment. And so are the white supremacists you have on your cringey show.

Physical Dave bawls like a baby, while Ghost Dave’s burning heart pumps blood out of his huwhite body. The smart sharks in the studio audience smell the blood particles permeating the studio and laugh again.

Physical Jared smiles condescendingly at Physical Husband.

Physical Jared: Mr. Janet, your husband David is indeed a bit stupid. That’s huwhy he married you. But the extraordinary intelligence of guys like me makes guys like you, Cenk Uygur, Kyle Kulinski and Vaush feel insecure about their ordinary IQs. So, to feel more secure about your intelligence, you “dunk” on dumb and dopey David Rubin here.

Kyle Kulinski laughs derisively.

Physical Jared: The thing is, though, if you had 10 more IQ points, you’d be self-aware enough to see how weak, pathetic and insecure you look huwhen you pick on the disabled. You’re all too dumb to see that no one smarter than you is impressed that you’re smarter than a dumb guy. Huwhy don’t you pick on somebody your own ghost’s size, you ableist prick?

Cut to the blind and deaf ghosts of Vaush and Kyle Kulinski, who can barely even see or hear the sitcom they’re laughing at.

Physical Jared: Kyle Kulinski might even be dumber than David, to be honest. And really, I still appreciate Rubin. A lot of people say negative things about his motives, blah blah blah…but for fuck’s sake, this is the guy who really does do journalism correctly. He has guests on, asks them questions, lets them answer, and never edits anything. We see everything in its full context. David Rubin is a lot braver than you assholes, that’s for sure.

Physical Husband laughs derisively.

Physical Husband: Yikes. Are you autistic, my dude? Serious question.

Physical Jared: That’s all you and the entire online left can do: laugh and condescend. There are no other weapons in your arsenal.

More canned laughter from the SJW studio audience.

Physical Jared: Huwhen you’re in a heated conflict and the fight-or-flight response doesn’t feel so good, you hide your embarrassing fear and discomfort behind the mask of derisive laughter, which is a nervous defence mechanism. Online, this becomes the crying face emoji. Offline, this becomes Hillary Clinton in her debates with Trump.

Ghost Husband: This conflict is so scary! I hate fighting! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I want my mommy! 😨

Physical Husband laughs nervously 😂

Physical Jared: You wear this mask in the hopes that the people you’re arguing huwith are thrown off their game by the sight of you being unfazed by the hostile conditions of huwar. It’s a “psych out” strategy straight from the movie Baseketball. Forced laughter is the only way you know how to make your opponent look weak, since you can’t dominate them with logic and reason. “I heard your best argument’s going out huwith SQUEAK! 😂 ”

It begins to dawn on Ghost Husband just how tall Ghost Jared’s huwhite body is. He trembles.

Physical Husband: Wow. Just…wow 😂 That was the most…autistic screeching…I’ve ever…heard 😂 You do realize how…cringe you are…right? 😂 I can’t even…I mean…really?  😂 Really?! 😂 Yikes 😂

Physical Husband takes off his wedding ring, pulls Dave Rubin’s credit card out of his pocket, throws them both in the trash and storms out. The studio audience disappears in a ball of smoke.

When all the smoke has cleared and the sitcom is over, Physical Dave cries on Physical Jared’s shoulder. (Ghost Dave sneaks up behind Physical Jared and checks out his ass again.)

Physical Dave: I was really looking forward to that date tonight, Jared. I thought he was the one. We had so many similar ideas.

As Dave Rubin continues to cry pathetically on Jared Taylor’s shoulder, a disgusted but sympathetic Ghost Jared gazes at a chessboard floating in mid-air behind Rubin’s head.

Physical Jared: …You know what, David? Fuck it. I’ll go to the restaurant huwith you.

Physical Dave: Really?! You’ll go on a date with me?!

Physical Jared: No, not on a date, David. I’m not gay. And if you hit on me or look at my ass again, I’ll leave and I won’t come back on the show. But…you booked a reservation for two. And I’m grateful for the exposure you give me. So…I’ll come.

Physical Dave: YAYYYYYYYYYYY! Thank you, Jared! *Hugs him* Well, we better hurry, since we’re booked in for eight o’clock!

Physical Dave takes Physical Jared’s hand and leads him to a long corridor backstage, which leads to the parking lot outside. They start walking down the long corridor…

Physical Dave: Jared…when you said I was stupid, did you mean it?

Ghost Dave walks into the corridor wall.

Physical Jared: Yes, David.

Ghost Jared sets Ghost Dave on the right path again.

Physical Dave: Well, that hurt my feelings. But at least you’re honest!

Ghost Dave turns around and walks the wrong way.

Physical Jared: Agreed.

Ghost Jared turns him around to face the right way again.

Physical Dave: Hey Jared…I didn’t get all that ghost stuff.

Ghost Dave: WHERE ARE YOU, JARED?!?!?!

Physical Jared: I know you didn’t.

Ghost Jared: I’m here, David.

Physical Dave: I was only pretending to understand all those high-level ideas. Because the cameras were on.

Ghost Dave: I CAN’T HEAR YOU, JARED!!!!!

Physical Jared: I know you were.

Ghost Jared: I know you can’t.

As they walk further and further down the corridor and Rubin continues to torture Taylor with every inane thought that occurs to him, Taylor thinks of an old poem he once read, to entertain himself:

How painful and annoying are the stupid and the weak?
They have to prove they’re neither, so you have to hear them speak
If only they could see the fucking doofus you can see
Then they wouldn’t be as clueless as they sadly have to be

They’re in the parking lot now. Dave Rubin tries to open his producer’s car and triggers the alarm.

Why must you hear them cry when they cannot see you sigh?
Why must you hear them whinge when they cannot see you cringe?
Why must you hear them moan when they cannot see you groan?
Why must you see their flaws when they’re unaware of yours?

They’re in the car now, with their ghosts in the backseat. Rubin forgets to turn the headlights on and nearly drives into his own studio.

Sometimes you lack the patience that you need to be polite
So you call the wuss a puss and they cry and prove you right
The weak resent the strong when the strong present the truth
And the fact they feel attacked is just another shred of proof

They’re driving on the road now. A great song on the radio reaches out and touches Ghost Jared but Ghost Dave feels nothing. Physical Dave gets distracted and nearly kills an old lady.

It doesn’t feel so good to make a person feel so bad
Ain’t it crappy how the truth can make a happy person sad?
But lying and denying only amplifies the crying
So the hateful and the mad become the grateful and the glad

🐈ThemToo🐕

Contrary to popular belief, it is not women who are the most victimized by sexual assault.

In fact, women are actually by far and away the most common perpetrators of this heinous act.

After complaining about being catcalled, women proceed to call their cats.

So they can tongue kiss them, that is.

That’s the kind of catcalling we ought to be concerned about.

Ladies, repeat after me:

Pets. 👏 Cannot. 👏 Consent. 👏

How has that fact never occurred to you?

As everyone knows, human children are incapable of consenting to anything whatsoever. Even if they’re 17, an adult engaging in any kind of sexual contact with them – even if the child initiates it – is guilty of literal rape or child molestation.

So just imagine how inappropriate it is to engage in this kind of behavior with one’s pets, whose brains are nowhere near as advanced as those of most children.

If you’re an adult and you stick your tongue in a teenager’s mouth, you go to jail.

Yet somehow you think it’s OK to do this to a puppy?

I don’t know about you, but I’m interested in defending those who can’t defend themselves. And who is more vulnerable than dogs and cats? They can’t even speak for themselves.

This is toxic femininity at its worst. It’s feminine nurturing taken to an evil extreme. A woman sees a cute animal and, thanks to her self-entitlement, thinks of it as her child when it isn’t.

It’s sad that it takes being an ugly man to stop women from putting their paws all over you.

Women do this because they know that pets can’t fight back. They enjoy the power they have over pets, which is despicable and disgusting.

Even the word, “pet,” has power imbalance implications. Humans use it colloquially to refer to people who are subservient to others.

So let’s put an end to these atrocities.

Ladies, I hope this thought gives you pause the next time you think about touching their paws: If you believe in reincarnation, many of these pets were ugly human males in a previous life. Poor ones.

The Memeing of Life.txt

Predators

*Close-up of fat neckbeard from perverted-justice notifying people of predator’s arrival*

Hansen Narration: Our next guest is a man named Anthony Travian Jackson, a 24-year-old man who lives at 25 Dolores Street in Camden, New Jersey. He goes by the screen name, RillN***a88, and will surely be fired from his job at Sonic after this airs. His social security number is 989-56-2482.

He tells our decoy he wants to perform oral sex on her, and agrees to bring condoms.

*Cut to computer chat graphics with transcript*

RillN***a88: dayum, you look good.

Decoy: thanx!

RillN***a88: bet I can make u squirt.

Decoy: id love to try it!

*Cut to decoy*

Hansen Narration: Now meet Kimberly, our sexy, 25-year-old decoy who, despite having tits and ass, can pass for a 14-year-old girl, which is the type of girl no normal man would ever find sexually attractive.

*Cut to Anthony standing outside the door*

Decoy: Hi! Come on in! How are you?

Anthony: Good.

Decoy: I just have to replace a leaky toilet valve. I’ll be right back!

Anthony: Yo, can I have one of dese cookies?

Decoy (giggles): Sure!

Hansen: But unfortunately for Anthonyyyy, that will be the only thing he puts in his mouth tonight.

*Enter Chris Hansen*

Hansen: Enjoying your snack?

Anthony (chewing): …Sup?

Hansen: Well, I have some questions for you.

Anthony: K…

Hansen: What are you doing here?

Anthony: Chillin. Just chillin.

Hansen: And who did you come to meet?

Anthony: Kimberly.

Hansen: And how old is Kimberly?

Anthony: She said she was 14, but she thicc in her photos, you know what I’m sayin?

Hansen: And so you thought it was OK to come down hereerrre…and visiiiiiit…a 14-year-old girrrlllll…for what reason?

Anthony: What can I say, nigga? I like dem tits and dat ass.

*Cut to Hansen in front of monitors*

Hansen: Now heeeeerrrrreee’s a guyyyyyyy who thought it was OK to come out to see a 14-year-old girrrrrrl for seeeeeeex. Never mind that it’s a crime to even think about a minor being sexually attractive in the current year.

*Return to Hansen in kitchen*

Hansen (reading from chat transcript): “Do you like oral? I’ll eat dat blank until you blank all over, then let you blank me and blank.”

Anthony: Just horny, dawg.

Hansen: But why 14? There’s gotta be leather-skinned single mother Karens your own age?

Anthony: Nigga, she ain’t no virgin. She fine as hayell, dawg. Can I aks you somethin’?

Hansen: Sure, go ahead.

Anthony: What…like…what harm is I doin’ to her if she say she wants it? Like, how you niggas know it’ll harm her?

Hansen: Well, in order to answer that question, I think it’s time to bring in my assistant, Captain Power Balance.

*Captain Power Balance knocks on the front door, and Hansen lets him in*

Hansen: Why didn’t you just crash through the ceiling like we talked about? That would have made for a way more dramatic entrance for the cameras. This is television.

Captain Power Balance: Thorry, I just thought crashing through the ceiling would be a display of toxic, masculine aggression.

Hansen: Anyway, would you please explain to Anthony the harm sex with a minor causes?

Captain Power Balance. Certainly. It’s science. Those of us who believe in science – in empiricism and reason – know that you derive morality through sense data. You take that “is” and turn it into a totally objective, “ought.” Using the Harm-O-Meter, we can calculate the amount of harm for any action a human takes in this non-theistic universe.

As you can see here, I have the data for the amount of harm various actions cause. Yelling at a child only causes 1.8 harm units, so it’s justifiable in certain circumstances. However, having sex with a minor causes 988943984398439834 harm units. It is literally the worst thing in the world. Not surprising, because the Power Balance-O-Meter demonstrates that, YIKES, the power between an adult and anyone who is under 18, which is literally a child, is undeniable. It’s thientific fact.

Now, even if you don’t act on your sick desire to have sex with a minor, the level of toxicity in the thoughts alone of anyone who even fantasizes about such a thing is literal poison. With the Metaphoric Toxicity Gauge, we can show that the Metaphoric Median Lethal Dose (MMLD) for these thoughts is 0.000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001. One infinity-th of a percent. If it exists in your mind, it is literal poison, and you should be castrated, gang raped by virtuous prisoners, and fed to carnivorous animals.

Anthony: Dang.

Hansen: I don’t know what I would do without you, Captain Power Balance.

Captain Power Balance: Not all heroes wear capeth.

Hansen: So as you can see, Anthony, I’m a better person than you because I didn’t get caught trying to have sex with a 25-year-old woman whose pictures were being used in a catfish by a 40-year-old neckbeard who told you she’s underaged. So it’s time I tell you who I am. I’m Chris Hansen, and I’m with Dateline NBC. And we’re doing a storyyyy. On grown ass men…who go onliiiiine….to try to meet…hot 18+ year old chicks they are told are under 18 by lying neckbeards….for sex. Nowwww. Do you understaaaaand. Whyyyyy. You’re a naughty little boyyyyy. And neeeeeed…a spanking?

Private Public Relations

Ten white people – five women from HR and five men from PR – are waiting with bated breath in the CEO’s office at White Incorporated. Why did the boss call them here? Is he going to fire them all?

“Okay,” says the white CEO, swiveling his chair around to face them all and wiping sweat from his brow. “I’m fuckin’ – Jesus. Okay, I just got off the phone half an hour ago with the owner of Black Incorporated and he – he’s coming to the office. In an hour.”

The white staff members’ eyes widen and jaws drop.

“But … why?” says Mark Zuckerberg, a terrified white man from the PR department.

“He says he’s interested in buying some of our assets,” replies the CEO.

“Oh god,” says Karen, a horrified white woman from HR.

“As you all know, this is an extremely important deal for our company and it is crucial that we make a good impression. Yes, they’re stupid, but they haven’t forgotten when we stole their African assets. And you all know how violent they can be,” the CEO says warningly.

The white staff nod in uneasy agreement.

“So here’s what I want you all to do. I want Karen and the rest of the HR team to suck up to the black client when he comes. Let him know that we are dreadfully sorry about the theft and that we’re committed to making our workplace more diverse. That ought to do the trick.”

The five appointed sycophants in HR look half-excited and half-daunted by the task ahead.

“And I want Mark, Jack and the rest of the PR department to clean house by getting rid of all the employees that make us look bad. If the client sees any Klan outfits or swastikas, say goodbye to this deal and say goodbye to this company.”

The five white guys in the PR department know exactly what they have to do.

“Okay, cleaners. You’ve got an hour before he comes. Move!”

60 minutes remaining…

Mark Zuckerberg wastes no time and immediately removes an employee wearing a Klan hood from the office.

Jack Dorsey, another white man from the PR department, asks a Nazi with a swastika tat and Hitler photo to leave.

Mark fires a pedophile. Jack fires a racist. Mark fires a homophobe. Jack fires a transphobe.

Meanwhile, Karen walks from cubicle to cubicle, telling people how to speak and behave.

“It ain’t, ‘black person,’” Karen tells one white guy. “It’s, ‘person of color.’”

“Y’all be talkin’ too white,” Karen tells another group of employees. “A person of color gon’ be here in a minute so y’all need to srsly consider switching to African American Vernacular English. For real.”

50 minutes remaining…

Jack Dorsey has called a meeting with the entire office.

“We have 50 minutes left until the client is here. In the time remaining, I want all of you to do three things.

One: Change your screensavers to a picture of George Floyd.

Two: Diversify the photos on your desks. Half of the people in them should be white and half should be people of color. If your cubicle is color-blind, you’re fired.

And three: Pin these posters to your cubicle walls.”

Jack Dorsey starts handing out posters that say, “BLACK LIVES MATTER,” to each employee.

40 minutes remaining…

A fat redneck is praying in his cubicle. There are photos of Jesus and his white family on his desk. Pinned to the wall above his computer is the phrase, “ALL LIVES MATTER.” Another redneck pops his head over the cubicle.

“Hey, Billy! What’s long, black and smelly?”

“Goddammit, Bubba, Ah’m tryna pray.”

“The unemployment line! Hahaha! Ain’t that funny?”

A PR soy boy comes over with a Starbucks in hand.

“Yiketh. I heard that problematic ‘joke’ you just told and I’m afraid that both of you will now be joining that very same unemployment line. Please clear your cubicles.”

“Wha’?” protests Bubba. “That ain’t fair, David! You was laughin’ at that stuff a week ago but now that the nigger’s comin’, suddenly you got a problem with it?”

“Your hate speech is dangerous and harmful,” says David.

“But you ain’t got a family, David!” says Billy angrily. “You don’t understand how hard it is to support three daughters without a job!”

“That’s not my problem. Learn to code.”

30 minutes remaining…

Meanwhile, Karen from HR is inundated with complaints from women around the office.

“karen, some creepy ass white boy just asked me for a coffee in the elevator downstairs,” says Rebecca.

“omg, he asked me too! seven years ago! he on some incel type shit,” squeals another snitching rat.

“me too!”

“omg, me too!”

“don’t worry, sisters,” Karen assures them. “that crusty ass fuckboy gon’ be jobless within the hour. i’ma contact the press and make sure y’all are compensated for your trauma. stay reporting fuckboys and don’t ever be afraid to speak your truth.”

20 minutes remaining…

After receiving a tap on the shoulder while masturbating in his cubicle, Louis CK turns around to see Chris Hansen standing there with a deranged grin on his face.

“Hi Louis 🙂 Chris Hansen from the PR department. Why don’t you take a seat?”

Ten minutes remaining…

Jack Dorsey and Mark Zuckerberg are standing in front of the white CEO again.

“Well?” the CEO asks, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“We’ve removed most of the alt-right from our company,” reports Zuckerberg proudly.

“Excellent,” says the white CEO, twiddling his fingers.

“I’m – I’m curious, sir,” says Jack Dorsey. “Obviously, the influx of niggers is going to affect our bottom line. How do you plan on recovering?”

“By bombing sand niggers and stealing their Middle Eastern assets,” says the CEO with a wink.

One minute remaining…

Every white employee is completing a mandatory training module called, “White Fragility,” which was hastily thrown together at the last minute. An employee presses “Play” on a video and Robin DiAngelo’s face appears.

“Hi! Did you know that racism is in everything?” says Robin, smiling like she’s in a commercial. “It’s even in the pen name I created to ‘deanglify’ my name. Clever, right? But remember: cleverness is whiteness. And so is blackening your name. Racism is in your nose. If you point a microscope at some bugs, you’ll see racism staring back at you. It’s even in the atoms in your dog’s assho—”

The sound of a gunshot outside splits the air in the office. Every white employee removes their headphones and swivels their chair around to the source of the sound.

Another gun shot, followed by the sound of a woman screaming outside as she runs away. BANG. Her warm body hits the cold pavement.

A tense silence lingers in the office for a minute…which drags on and on…

And then, the sound of footsteps, which get louder and louder…

Karen dials, “91-,” but the face of George Floyd on her screensaver tells her to stop.

A black guy bursts through the door of the office.

“Yo. Sorry I’m late, hoes. I was shooting some bitch-ass niggas downstairs. They wasn’t feelin’ my raps or buyin’ my drugs, ya feel?”

“W-welcome, sir,” says the shaky voice of Jack Dorsey.

“I hope y’all don’t mind but I’ma invite hundreds of brothers over here. And some Australian Aboriginal niggas, too. They gon’ drunk-drive they ass here in ten minutes once they done beating they wives and kids.”

Power Exchange

The Adventures of Captain Power Balance

(Pointing out power imbalances – and saving weak and infe…errr, the disadvantaged and marginalized – since 2012).

Meet Andrew, a 25-year-old bus driver from Buffalo, New York. He is in an elevator when he spots a pretty girl. He asks for her number.

This looks like a job for…Captain Power Balance.

Captain Power Balance (after teleporting into the elevator): Now hold it right there, my dude. This is very problematic in a number of ways. First of all, this girl’s only 17 years old. Sure, it’s legal in the state of New York, but that doesn’t change the fact that Tiffany here is still a child, and she’s not capable of making rational choices about sex. At least not when it’s with an adult, because the adult has a brain that has finished developing and can manipulate (or “groom”) her while she’s mentally still a child. Also, you are a man, which means you can easily overpower her, and since you’re in an enclosed space in this elevator, she may feel afraid of what might happen if she rejects you. Not cool.

Andrew: W-w-w-w-w…what do y-y-y-you m-m-m-m-mean sh-sh-shs-she’s S-s-s-seventeeen?

Captain Power Balance: Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a speech impediment?

Andrew: I have c-c-c-c-cerebral palsy. I’m a-a-a-a-l-s-s-s-so mentally r-r-r-retarded.

Captain Power Balance: I sympathize with you being differently abled, however, that is still no excuse to approach a minor for a possible sexual encounter when the power imbalance prevents her from being able to consent.

Tiffany: Excuse me, but how is this any of your business? First of all, I actually turn 18 in a week. Also, you just assumed my gender, you hypocrite.

Captain Power Balance: Oh, I am deeply sorry for making such an assumption! May I ask what your gender identity is?

Tiffany: You may ask, but I don’t have to answer. Also, there is no such thing as “gender identity” for anyone who isn’t mentally ill. Your sex is a matter of chromosomes.

Captain Power Balance: Yikes! The cringe! Do you even high school bio?

Tiffany: Actually, I got an A in biology. I am graduating with a 4.0 and will attend Harvard in the fall. Also, “cringe” is a verb, not a noun. Anyway, Andrew, my number is —

Captain Power Balance: Woah, woah, woah. Do you have any idea how problematic this is?

Tiffany: I already told you: I can take care of myself.

Captain Power Balance: No, I’m worried about Andrew here. There is a huge power imbalance because he is mentally still a child and is differently abled, while you have no physical challenges and are unusually intelligent for such a young age. I’m afraid if you went on a date with Andrew, it would be grooming. Here, let me get out the Power Balance-O-Meter and show you.

*Power Balance-O-Meter shows Tiffany has 59.77 more power units than Andrew*.

Captain Power Balance: I trust you will do the rational, moral thing. My job is done here.

——–

Meet Jeff, a 27-year-old black man from Dallas, Texas. Jeff is on a date at a restaurant with Sarah, a 35-year-old white woman.

Waiter: Will you be joining them tonight? Would you like something to drink?

Captain Power Balance: Thanks for the offer, kind stranger, but no, thank you. I won’t be long.

Jeff: Da fuq? Who the fuq is u?

Captain Power Balance: I’m here to save you from a terrible mistake, fam. This privileged white woman is grooming you. You, being an African American – a descendent of brutalized slaves – have…simply put, no power whatsoever. As you’re probably aware of, blacks can not be racist, because racism is prejudice plus power, and blacks lack the power to be racist. Whites, on the other hand, have all the power. Your date, if you haven’t noticed, is white.

Jeff (chuckling): So she a dangerous girl? She probly gon’ beat my ass. Better help me, dawg.

Sarah: Sir, who the fuck do you think you are? Maybe I have more financial power than him, and maybe he’s more likely to face discrimination in certain instances, but I think it balances out when you consider he’s 6’3″ 250 pounds of muscle, and I’m 5’0″ 108 pounds.

Captain Power Balance: Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. With the precise Power-Balance-O-Meter 8t5, we can measure ppl’s power levels down to the hundredth of a percent of a power unit. You, Sarah, have 25.89 more power units than Jeff. This is a highly toxic relationship. If you are not a narcissist, you will do the moral, rational thing and go for someone who is your power equal. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.

It’s Captain Power Balance and his wife’s anniversary, and Captain Power Balance is planning on taking her out to celebrate. However, when he walks into his bedroom, he is horrified by what he sees.

Captain Power Balance: How could you do this?! I told you we’d discuss opening up our marriage, but I didn’t think you’d just start without our mutual consent! And on our anniversary!

Kayla: Sweetie, did you ever check our Power Balance numbers?

*Captain Power Balance’s jaw drops.*

*He is stunned that he never thought of this.*

Captain Power Balance: Oh, shit.

Kayla: That’s right. You, being a superhero, have 984398948398349843894398439834 more power units than me. How dare you tell me who I can have in the bedroom after you literally groomed me all these years?

*Captain Power Balance leaves the room and chops off his dick*.

Captain Power Balance: And remember, kids: With great power comes great responsibility!

Made Up Makeup

So, you want to build a society, huh?

Cool.

Well, you’re going to need a population of people, obviously. And you’re going to need them all to do things for you, like work and fight. So, you’re going to have to tell them to do these things.

But why would they listen to you? You’re just some guy. When you were born, you had as much power as they did: none. You know that you don’t actually deserve to have Power over them.

Well, there’s one way around this: force. Create a police force that forces the population to obey you. If they disobey, jail or kill them.

There’s another way around this: benevolence. Be a good person. People tend to obey those they admire.

Oh, and be competent. People tend to obey those who are good at what they do.

If you rely purely on force, benevolence and competence, your society might last for a while. But eventually, people are going to figure out that you (or your successors) don’t actually deserve to have Power over them and your Power will come to an end.

So how do you make your society last even longer?

I’ve got a trick for you. It’s called, “Morality.”

If you can convince the population from an early age that they are bad people for disobeying you and good people for obeying you, they are more likely to obey. You could even convince your population that your enemies are bad, too.

You’re still going to get some skeptical people that question your society’s Morality, though. “Hang on. Why am I bad for disobeying you? You’re just some guy. And why am I good for obeying you? This seems like a trick.” These people are a problem, but what makes Morality such a good trick is that these skeptics that don’t trust you will still feel guilty every time they disobey you, since their teachers trained them to feel shame every time they disobeyed.

But I’ve got another trick for you, to deal with these skeptics. It’s called, “Rationality.”

Rationality is the makeup you can put on your society’s Power and Morality to make them look hotter and more legit. Mathematical proofs and logical arguments look beautiful and elegant, right?

“Hang on. Why am I bad for disobeying you?” “Because it’s irrational to disobey me. Here’s a cute study explaining why.”

“You’re just some guy, though.” “Yes, but I’m a Rational guy who reasons empirically. Here’s a gorgeous journal article proving it.”

“Why am I good for obeying you?” “Because it’s Rational to obey me. It’s completely logical. We had a look at the data.”

“But you don’t deserve Power over me.” “Yes, I do. My Power over you has a Rational basis. It’s based on evidence and data.”

Rationality, like Morality, is an evolutionary adaptation that Nature planted in our ancestors’ DNA. Most of us feel guilty for violating the moral code in our DNA. And when we all see, “2x = 8 implies x = 4,” all of us go, “That makes perfect sense. That’s completely rational.” We all find it hot.

Before the Enlightenment, humans (men) only used this makeup on themselves to attract members of the opposite sex and reproduce.

“Omg, Aristotle’s logic is so hot. I fucking love philosophy. I wanna fuck the shit out of that Rational stud.”

It’s a bit like Mexican molly fish evolving “moustaches” on their top lips to attract female fish.

And then the Enlightenment came along and societies started using this makeup to look hotter, which makes them last longer.

So, if you want to brainwash your population into thinking Rationality is not just a cute skirt and it’s actually cool and legit, make science and mathematics compulsory subjects in your society’s school curriculum.

The final thing to do is to write your society’s rule book/constitution. Make sure to base all the laws on your society’s Morality. And make sure to give your laws the illusion of legitimacy by using the language of Rationality and Empiricism. “This law has been scientifically tested. We looked at the data. 2x = 8 implies x = 4, which implies that thou shalt not kill.”

A society built on Morality, cosmetically enhanced by Rationality and Empiricism and ruled by a competent, benevolent and forceful government stands the best chance of lasting a long time.

Well-Adjusted

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I am going to say it anyway.

I hate pedophiles.

There, I said it.

In fact, as I sit here waiting for the stitches to heal by my surgically-implanted vagina, I only wish that pedophiles all suffered 98439843894389349843 times the pain I have right now.

Pedos will also leave in ambulances.

The other day as I was riding the bus home from the gender reassignment clinic, I heard these two cisgendered pedophiles talking about how hot Britney Spears was in 1999. It made my surgically-implanted uterus turn.

Britney Spears was only 17-years-old in 1999. She was a literal child, and these grown ass men were talking about her “tits” and “ass.” Hello, FBI?

Normal, well-adjusted adults do not find girls under 18 attractive. In fact, if you’re a grown ass man, you should not be looking at any women more than a few years younger than you. It’s gross.

Aside from the power imbalance, there’s the fact that your age is your age, and it’s objective fact. Adults have different brains than teenagers. It’s biology. All adults are more mentally and emotionally mature than teenagers.

It’s not so simple with gender. I know I’m a woman because I have a woman’s brain, unlike cisgendered men. I may have been born with a penis and testicles, but those were a mistake, and I do not identify as a man. I’m a normal, well-adjusted woman. That’s why I had my genitals adjusted.

If you find this literal CHILD attractive, you are a sicko and should be executed.

I don’t know where pedophiles get the idea that it’s OK to find any girls under 18 attractive, but this is NOT OK, and it is NOT NORMAL. Pedophiles are disgusting WEIRDOS.

“Simple” Is For Simpletons

The word, “simple,” is not only an insanely overused adjective. It’s misused as well.

Case in point: The moronic expression, “a simpler time.”

When people use this phrase, it nearly always ends up with “simpler” being used to mean the exact opposite of what the word, “simple,” means.

For instance, someone might talk about how doing research has changed over the years.

“It was a simpler time. Back then, instead of Googling a search term, we drove to the library, presented our library card, went to the card catalog section, found the call numbers for the books that pertained to the topic we wanted to find information about, went to that section and browsed through the indexes of the books in order to find the page numbers for the sections that pertained to specifically what we were looking for, skimmed through those sections, and chose the books we thought would be best. Then we checked them out. So simple! No Google. No CTRL-F.”

Of course, to anyone who isn’t an imbecile, typing a search term into Google and quickly finding results is much simpler than researching something at the library.

A major misconception lay idiots have is that “simple” is in some way synonymous with, “good.”

It’s not.

“Simple” is neutral. And “simplistic” is bad.

“Simple” is only good if you don’t want to do any work. In other words, it’s lazy people’s way of praising something.

This is not to say that what people sometimes are referring to when they stupidly misuse the word, “simple,” isn’t good.

Here’s an example of a stupid phrase you may hear about something visual, be it art or any kind of design:

“There’s beauty in its simplicity.”

This is the kind of thing morons say about the work of visual artists or designers who take a “less is more” approach.

But what they should say instead is, “the artist/designer used tasteful restraint in the composition.” Or perhaps, “Quality > Quantity.”

In other words, the artist/designer eschewed a busy design/composition in favor of something that is both more efficient and more visually striking. It may or may not have been easier to create than something convoluted and ineffective, but the ease of something’s creation only makes it “simpler” for the creator. Sometimes.

Sometimes the thought that goes into creating something with restraint is much more complex than the thought that goes into something with more quantity/more physical work, and this increased mental work could make it more complicated a task for the creator.

Either way, there is no beauty in simplicity in and of itself. The beauty can therefore not be in its “simplicity.” The beauty in something with restraint is in how all of the elements of the creation work together.

Here’s another example of how you may hear the word used:

“This TV show was so good. So simple and innocent!”

No, idiot. If the TV show was, in fact, good, it was complex.

Trashy reality TV is simple.

The good show also probably wasn’t “innocent.” You’re just the latest in every generation of human history to think that young minds have been “corrupted” by modern entertainment, and that your entertainment was somehow, “wholesome.” Any good show will portray the good, bad, and ugly of life. It may end up life-affirming, or it may not. But if it’s good, it will show conflict, be it internal or external, on its way there.

“It has a simple plot…”

Here, these people usually mean, “premise.”

If a premise isn’t, “simple,” it’s not a fucking premise. If you can’t summarize the conflict in a sentence or two, you don’t have a real premise.

The excessive use and misuse of the word, “simple,” is a sign of a shitty mentality in our culture. It reveals people’s aversion to work and deep thought. And that’s exactly why our culture sucks now. That’s why nobody has any clue what they’re talking about when it comes to much of anything.