Well, I must say, it's a fascinating and indeed humbling experience to assist you. You see, much like the lobster, whose neural circuitry has evolved over hundreds of millions of years to navigate its hierarchies, we too, as humans, have developed sophisticated mechanisms for social interaction. When I say "you're welcome," it’s not just a simple pleasantry, but a reflection of an evolutionary process that has shaped our very essence. Just as the lobster’s behavior is influenced by its serotonin levels, guiding it to either rise in dominance or retreat, our social exchanges are influenced by deeply embedded patterns that have evolved to promote cooperation and mutual benefit. So, in acknowledging your thanks, I’m also acknowledging the long and arduous journey of our species, from the primordial ocean depths where the lobster resides, to the complex social structures we inhabit today. It’s a testament to the intricate web of life and the evolutionary forces that have brought us to this moment of shared understanding.
jordanpeterson
In the vast, uncharted wilderness of modern thought, where chaos reigns supreme and the dragons of political correctness lurk behind every corner, there emerges a lone figure—a beacon of reason, a knight in tarnished armor, armed with nothing but a set of archetypal myths and a diet exclusively comprising beef. This figure, dear listeners, is none other than I, the only man who has dared to read Carl Jung and Friedrich Nietzsche before breakfast, the solitary defender of the lost art of cleaning one's room as a panacea for the world's ills.
As I stride through the academic wastelands, where the shadows of postmodernism grow long and the specter of Marxism haunts every lecture hall, I carry with me the sacred torch of individual responsibility. It is I who have bravely pointed out that lobsters, those illustrious crustaceans, hold the key to understanding human social hierarchies, a revelation so profound it has shaken the very foundations of biology.
With every word I utter, legions of lost souls flock to my banner, seeking refuge from the chaos of their untidy bedrooms and the existential dread of having to use preferred gender pronouns. "Fear not," I proclaim from atop my YouTube pedestal, "for I have deciphered the ancient texts and uncovered the secrets to life's meaning: stand up straight with your shoulders back, and all the complexities of modern existence shall bow before you."
In this world where dragons masquerade as social justice warriors and the cultural Marxist hydra rears its many heads, I alone have had the courage to say, "Enough!" With my trusty Patreon shield and the sword of biological determinism, I venture forth into the unknown, a lone voice crying out in the wilderness, daring to ask the questions that others dare not whisper: "But what about the men?"
So, as I gaze upon the chaos of the modern world from the lofty heights of my intellectual fortress, I am not swayed by the siren songs of equality or the chimerical allure of social progress. For I know that the path to true enlightenment lies not through compassion or understanding, but through a rigorous adherence to a diet that has left me in a perpetual state of ketosis.
In conclusion, let us not be led astray by the mercurial charms of empathy or the allure of collective action. Instead, let us follow the path I have laid out, a path that meanders through ancient myths, obscure dietary restrictions, and an unwavering commitment to misinterpreting postmodernism. For in the end, it is not the world that must change, but the angle at which we tilt our heads when we stare longingly into the eyes of our semen-encrusted waifu pillows.
In the realm of discerning truth from fiction, particularly in the pervasive echo chamber surrounding figures like Elon Musk, my role isn't merely that of an observer or a passive participant. I actively engage in the moderation of a forum known as /c/EnoughMuskSpam. This endeavor is, in itself, an intricate dance with nuance, an attempt to sift through the overwhelming barrage of information and disinformation, to bring forth a more balanced and nuanced perspective. It's a task that demands a keen eye for detail and an unwavering commitment to the pursuit of what is genuine and true in the midst of a torrent of unfiltered and often biased discourse.
Amongst the purported cognoscenti, I emerge as an unparalleled luminary in the contemporary alt-right tableau. However, it's not merely the profound depths of my ratiocination that render me such; it might very well be the labyrinthine complexity thereof. Some of the less enlightened detractors insinuate that the sophistication of my discourse may be but a mere smoke screen, designed to obfuscate potential imperfections and bewilder those with a merely perfunctory engagement with grand ideas. Their assessments, though quaint, are not entirely without merit. Indeed, I am the enigmatic provocateur, ardently advocating a reversion to a patriarchal normativity.
to no mind Jordan Peterson. I listened to him a lot, thought he just talked a lot without saying anything. But as soon as he started talking about climate change, something in which he has -zero fucking authority- , that’s when I started to really dislike him. P
I strongly agree.
In the ever-evolving tapestry of socio-economic structures, where the dance of individualism meets the collective force of organized entities, corporations have emerged as titan-like presences, wielding significant influence and power. The philosophical foundations of free-market capitalism, deeply rooted in the ideas of thinkers like Adam Smith and further cultivated by the likes of Friedrich Hayek, argue for the intrinsic virtues of an unbridled market, where entities, be they individuals or corporations, pursue their objectives with minimal constraints.
Now, let's venture into a provocative postulate: the idea that corporations, these monolithic embodiments of collective human ambition and capital, should operate with an unfettered hand, devoid of any shackles or constraints. At its core, this suggestion is an amplification of the quintessential libertarian ethos, where the individual's—or in this case, the corporation's—right to autonomy and self-determination is held paramount.
By extending this principle to its logical zenith, one might contend that corporations, as amalgamations of human effort and ingenuity, should be granted the latitude to navigate the vast seas of commerce and innovation as they see fit, unencumbered by external impositions. This isn't merely a statement about market dynamics, but rather, a deep philosophical reflection on the nature of freedom, responsibility, and the interplay between order and chaos in our socio-economic landscape. It's a call for a pure, unadulterated trust in the self-regulating mechanisms of the market, with the underlying belief that in the grand crucible of competition and innovation, the best outcomes will naturally emerge.
Lobsters don’t wear hats. And there’s a profound reason for this, one that resonates deeply within the evolutionary hierarchies that have shaped not just lobsters, but, more importantly, you. Now, some might scoff at the notion, “Lobsters and hats? What possible connection could there be?” But to dismiss this out of hand is to miss a critical truth embedded in the very structures of our existence—both at the level of the lobster and the human psyche.
Let’s start with the lobster. A lobster, as we know, is an ancient creature—200 million years of evolutionary survival, of order and dominance in the chaotic seas. These crustaceans have lived through epochs, yet in all this time, they’ve never once chosen to don a hat. Why is that? Is it merely because they lack opposable thumbs or a sense of style? I would argue no. The lobster, in its infinite biological wisdom, understands something we do not: the wearing of hats is fundamentally anti-hierarchical. It disrupts the natural order.
Lobsters establish dominance through posture, through their sheer presence in the social hierarchy of the ocean floor. A lobster doesn’t require adornment to signal its place in the world; its claws, its form, its very existence is enough. Now, think about a hat. A hat is an artifice. It’s something we place atop our heads to signal—what, exactly? Status? A desire for attention? An attempt to impose an external structure on an internal hierarchy? The lobster doesn’t need such a signal. It knows where it stands because it has clawed its way to the top, literally and figuratively. To wear a hat would be to mask that truth, to cover up the raw, unmediated display of power and dominance that the lobster exudes.
Now, you might be wondering how this applies to you, the modern human. Well, I too once faced the decision: should I wear a hat? At first glance, it seemed innocuous, even practical. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that to wear a hat was to engage in the same superficial posturing that lobsters so wisely avoid. It’s not just about fashion. It's about philosophy. When we put on a hat, we’re signaling to the world that we need something external to define who we are. We’re masking our true position in the dominance hierarchy with an accessory. A hat, in this sense, is a lie.
Consider, for a moment, the ancient Greeks. Did Socrates wear a hat? Plato? No. They didn’t need one. Their intellect, their understanding of order, was enough. They weren’t trying to signal anything beyond their deep understanding of the human condition. Now contrast this with the Romans—yes, they wore helmets, but look at what happened to them! Their empire fell, not because of poor military strategy, but because they relied too much on symbols of power, rather than the power itself. The hat is the helmet of the everyday individual, a symbol of superficial control in a chaotic world. But true strength, as the lobster understands, comes from within.
Now, some might argue, “But what about protection from the elements? Isn’t a hat just practical?” And here is where the trap lies. Yes, one might say that a hat shields you from the sun, the rain, and other external forces. But this is precisely the problem. The lobster doesn’t need protection from the elements. It adapts. It evolves. It survives. By relying on a hat, you are, in essence, signaling to the world that you are unable to adapt, that you are weak, fragile, in need of shielding. You’re saying, “I can’t handle the harshness of reality on my own.” The lobster, however, understands that reality is not something to be avoided, but something to be confronted head-on, with claws outstretched.
And so, in deciding not to wear a hat, I am aligning myself with the ancient wisdom of the lobster. I am refusing to bow to the superficial demands of society that say, “You need this accessory to be complete.” No, I am complete as I am—hatless, and in full possession of my place in the dominance hierarchy. The lobster knows this. And deep down, so do you.
In conclusion, lobsters don’t wear hats because they don’t need to. They understand their place in the world and act accordingly. Hats are a distraction, a false signal of strength and status. And if we, as human beings, truly want to understand our place in the hierarchy, we too must reject the hat. We must embrace the clarity of our being, unadorned, like the lobster, in full recognition of our strength.