And wear a fucking mask please

Professor Jordan Pervertson

Started by DangledTeeth, June 14, 2019, 09:22:26 PM

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May 12, 2020, 10:04:31 PM #60 Last Edit: May 12, 2020, 11:43:22 PM by DangledTeeth


The SJWs steal Jordan's 'Freedom of Speech' sign and scarper

Jordan: Hey! That's my sign!

Jordan pursues the SJWs across the University precinct and towards an enclosed area, where the SJWs hit Jordan with the sign and kick and punch him in the arm

Int. Office

Jordan: Ah-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh! *Wince* Uh-hhagh-hhagh.

Woman: What's so funny?

Jordan: I was laughing at the irony of life. Soeh, I was on the grounds of the U of T, taking part in this protest with my comedy act, and these opposing stoodents from another clahss utilised their freedom of speech to challenge my stance. Wuell, not to so much speech in the literal sense, but it was more like a physical, transcendent expression of the Being. Because one of them pilfers my sign, eeh. Soeh, I zoomed ahfter o-

Woman: I'm sorry to interject, Dr Peterson, but I have paid to have a clinical counselling session with you.

Jordan: You see, that's exactly what NPD does to you, man - it makes you selfish and grandiose. Always thinking about what's good for you. Why not bloody well listen to people for a change instead of centering the proceedings on your famished ego.

Woman: B-

Jordan: So you see, this is typically what the narcissist does, dawminate the cawnversation so it centres on them. Are you listening to me, Jordan B. Peterson?

Woman: A-

Jordan: Please, don't interrupt. It's rahther disrespectful...

Woman: And?

Jordan: No, I've finished. Tell me about your prahgress.

Woman: Some days are better than others, and I believe I've made significant steps to understand the importance of empathy. But there was a little setback in my schedule... my goldfish passed away yesterday morning and my toilet wouldn't flush.


Int. Bus

Jordan is seated towards the back of a bus

A kid faces the opposite direction and focuses on Jordan

Jordan catches the kid's stare and parts his hands over his own face to reveal a silly expression

Kid: Hee-hee!

Int. Flat

Tammy: Did you check the mail, Jordy?

Jordan: Yes, moth- oops, Tammy. I'm just going to make dinner.

Int. Bedroom

Tammy is in bed, watching telly. Jordan brings in a tray with a plate of food placed on it, would you fucking believe it.

Tammy: He must not be getting my letters.

Jordan: It's Richard Dawkins, Tammy. I expect he's busy.

Tammy: Too busy for me?! I've worked for that family for years. The least he can do is write back.

TV: You're watching Channel 4 News.

Jordan: Heeeey, Cathy!

Jordan watches Cathy Newman and his mind drifts into a fantasy

Cathy Newman: There are remarkable people out here in the world. There was the headstrong and peaceful Nelson Mandela. Mother Teresa of Calcutta and her sanctuary of malnourished love. And Idi Amin was a brilliant socialite. But there is one man I'd like to introduce to my pantheon of inspirational
and wonderful human beings, and that man is the best-selling author and comedy professor extraordinaire Doctor Professor Jordan Peterson

Jordan: Me?! Are you sure?

Jordan tentatively sits in the seat

Cathy Newman: Don't be shy. You're a profoundly funny and insightful intellectual. And-and the dashing suit!

Jordan: Wuell, I present myself as best I can. It's lovely of you to say so, but I can't compete with those historical guys you mentioned.

Cathy Newman: Confident as well as modest.

Jordan: I suppose I'm quite amazing at modesty.

Cathy Newman: Oh, stop! Hee-hee. You've written a book, it's a comical self-help/motivational book called 12 Jokes for Life. Joke number 6 was very inspirational.

Jordan: Yes, 'Tell the truth or at least don't lie... in bed with another woman or man if you're into monogamy'

Cathy: Your wit really tickled me, and I'm sure millions of your readers would agree.

Jordan: That's not the only thing I can tickle.

Cathy: You are naughty.

Jordan: Is that so? I thought I was Jordan.

Cathy: Uh-har-hah-hah. But really, it's an excellent book. I spent the past few days reading it.

Jordan: As long as the world laughs and its inhabitants learn the important value of freedom of speech and how to orient themselves to become better people, it's all worth it.

Cathy: You might think I'm really soppy for saying this, but... you are like the brother I never had.

Cathy hugs Jordan

Jordan: And you are like the sister I didn't kill.

Cathy: Ha ha ha ha!

Int. University Staff Room

Trudeau: Hey Jordan, I heard you got jumped yesterday.

Jordan: Yeah, they took my sign.

Trudeau: It's getting quite tense out there. No-good little bastards.

Jordan: They're just kids. Actually, they're in their early twenties. Let them skateboard. Come to think of it, they could've attached wheels to my sign.

Trudeau presents a sack from his locker

Jordan: What is it?

Trudeau: A sack.

Jordan: ...a sack!? I can see thaht. But what's inside?

Jordan: Trudeau, why are you giving me this for?! I don't need this.

Trudeau: It's for your protection. It can be dangerous out there. You're gonna have to deal with any trouble.

Jordan: Are you sure? I mean, awakening the dragon of chaos when I'm nawt on tawp of the dominance hierarchy is rahther dangerous.

Warwick: Jordan, the dean wants to see you, mate.

Trudeau: Warwick, when you drank a pint of beer back in England, was it like a stein to you?


Int. Dean's Office

Dean: I like you, Jordan. The other professors and HR think you're a bit of a freak, but I think you're good, not sure why. But I've had a complaint. And it's starting to piss me off!

Jordan: Why would anyone complain about me?!

Dean: You did your comedy-protest into the start of your lecture. Your stoodents were sat in an empty room.

Jordan: But the social justice warriors jumped me.

Dean: A group of post-teens beating up a professor!? Gimme a break.

Jordan: But that's what happened, man. They broke my sign.

Dean: Ah yeah, which reminds me... the professor or the art department said he wants it back.

Jordan: It belonged to me.

Dean: It was his plywood and marker pen you used. Just give it back, okay.

Jordan: Why would I keep it?

Dean: Exactly, why would you keep it. You won't make money out of it. Speaking of cash, I'm going to have to deduct $80 of your wages to compensate for its loss. Art supplies don't come cheaply, ya know. Jordan, I'm giving you advice here to im...

Int. Peterson Apartment

Jordan bathes tammy before waving the revolver around in the living room while his television is on

Gun: Bang!

Tammy (OOV): AHHH! What was that, Jordy?!

Jordan (Calling): Nothing, Tammy! I was just... shitting.

Tammy (OOV): Shitting?!?! What war movie has defecation in it?

Jordan: I didn't say anything about a war movie. I didn't say thaht! I said that I was shitting.

Tammy (OOV): Why would you shit in the living room?

Jordan: It's complicated. I've thought about it a laawt. Erm... I meant 'farted', Tammy.

Int. Toronto University - Lecture Room

Jordan: The guys who preyed on Pinocchio are no different than John Wayne Gacy, who was a mahster serial killer - one of the earliest known serial killers at the time. He'd even act the part of the clown and do a little dahnce...

As Jordan jigs around the lecture room his revolver drops down his trouser leg and the gun clatters to the floor; he amusingly yet accidentally kicks it with his hefty clown shoe in an attempt to scoop it up

Jordan: AAH! Erm, soeh, serial killers would be brazen in their carelessness and drop the weapon as I've demonstrated here. The schizoid narcissism will make them appear nonchalant which helps to mahsk any embarrassment predicated on their mishap, murderously speaking.

Ext. Street

Jordan is inside a phone booth

Jordan: No! Please! I love this job.

Dean: You brought a fucking gun into your lecture!!!!

Jordan: But it was a toy gun. I was demonstrating the narcissistic behaviour of psychopaths.

Dean: Trudeau told me you tried to buy a .38 off him.

Jordan: Trudeau said that!? No! No! Th-that didn't happen, not roughly speaking.

Dean: I've warned you before about your behaviour, Jordan. I can't keep putting up with this crap. You're fired.

Int. Train

A group of surly men are seated near a young woman who tolerates their loutish behaviour

Jordan is sat at the other end of the carriage and spies the trio of men who throw crisps at her


The suited guys are intrigued by Jordan's laughter and are startled by his clown outfit, causing them to sing as they approach Jordan

Foucault (Singing): Send in... the clowns.

Foucault: What's with the laugh?

Jordan: I-I have a condi-

Jordan attempts to present the condition info card from his pocket, but his bag is swiped by Foucault

Jordan rises and tries to get his bag back but is gripped by Derrida

Jordan: You don't need my possessions, neo-Marxist communist!

Jordan kicks Foucault in desperation

Foucault: Ooh, we've got a kicker. Stationary he goes.


The trio of postmodernists kick and stamp on a fallen Jordan who forms a pained rictus on his face

Revolver: POWWWWW!

Foucault's skull is popped by an airborne death-nugget

Derrida is scared for his life and sprints away from Jordan

Jordan aimlessly shoots at Derrida


Derrida hobbles through the carriages as Jordan composes himself before chasing Derrida once the train comes to a halt

Jordan makes a beeline for an injured Derrida on a platform. Jordan fires two more shots and Derrida collapses and attempts to crawl up the stairs

Jordan is momentarily stunned by his actions before bolting off up the stairs and in to the back streets

Int. Public Toilets

An adrenaline-charged Jordan shuts himself inside a public toilet and begins to dance in a mechanical way

Violin or Cello, I don't Fucking Know: HmmwwwvHhHHHMMmMmm-hHHhWwvVvwwWWHHmmMmHmMm

Int. Peterson Clinical Practice - Morning

Jordan: Soeh, how are you doing?

Client: Erm, well, I've b-

Jordan: Great. Don't compare yourself with anyone else. Compare yourself to who you were yesterday.

Client: But what if you were some wretched being the previous day?

Jordan: It's a good question.

There's a silent pause

Jordan: You know what my advice is?

Client: ...No.

Jordan: Screw nihilism, man. Strive to be a pillar of your community. Conservatives will have you believing there's work out there for everyone, while liberals believe you can train people to do anything. No, You cahn't get a jawb for everyone. And no, your training doesn't always apply to your specific role or sector.

Client: I suppose so.

Jordan: I don't think you've listened to a fucking word I've said. People are beginning to notice me and I enjoy it, eeh.

Int. Peterson Apartment

Jordan reclines on the couch

Tammy: Oh Jordy, Mr Dawkins is on television, he's going to talk about those horrific murders.

Jordan: Why is he talking about them?

TV: Hello, it's mayoral candidate Richard Dawkins here. A literal clown shot three atheist intellectuals whom I didn't know personally. It's an attack on the decent harding-working intelligentsia. There's no doubt that the murderous man suffered from the virus of religion. Christianity is outdated -- The Beatles were bigger than Jesus, and nowadays Simon Cowell is bigger than both of them. Whoever did this cowardly attack is a very, very evil-minded individual with the intelligence of a cow. Well, if you're watching this broadcast, then yes, I'm addressing you, mate. You ought to forlornly look at yourself in the mirror and succumb to the guilt festering inside that homoerectus brain of yours, if you have a modicum of decency inside you, which you probably do not. You have to be the epitome of feeble and gutless if you have to commit your crime so brazenly with a veneer of theatrical make-up. You're such a deplorably unpleasant twat of a cunt, do you know that?

Jordan: Uh-hhegh-hhagh.

Tammy: What are you laughing at? Richard is a good man who'll repair the societal structure as mayor with helpful memes.

Jordan: Mhmm, it depends on what Dawkins means by societal structure and memes.

Ext. Street Scene Montage

Jordan goes out for a stroll with Mikhaila, she notices a poster about the murders

Mikhaila: Three rich guys shot on the subway? Fuck them! Another three dickheads down, one million more to go.

Jordan: That's my girl.

Jordan notices a taxi cruising along

Int. Peterson Apartment

Jordan: Come on, Tammy. Let's have a dance.

Tammy: N-no.

Jordan loosely dances with Tammy until she exits to their bedroom

Jordan sneakily reads Tammy's newest letter she's received

Letter: Dear Tammy, it's a shame you left the Richard Dawkins Foundation to become your husband's assistant - you were a hardworking and valuable asset. In answer to your previous question, yes, I believe the bible is an important piece of literature as it underlies so much of our culture. Yours sincerely, R. Dawkins.

Tammy retreats to the bathroom

Tammy: RaHGh MuFFfLE!

Jordan: Tammy, open the door.

Tammy: Not until you calm down.

Jordan: I'm not going to bash your brains in. I'm going to kill you! I'm not angry, Tammy. Is it real?

Tammy: He's a knowledgable man, Jordy. A very knowledgable man.

Jordan: But... I thought he disliked Christianity!

Int. Unversity Staff Room

Jordan morosely trudges in to the staff room to collect his belongings from a locker

Warwick: Arthur, I'm sorry about what happened, mate.

Jordan stoically cleans out his locker

Professor: You brought in a gun to your lecture, Jord? Why the fuck would you do that?!

HR Man: Is that part of you act, Jordan - when they don't listen to you about the archetypes in Disney films you'll shoot yourself?

Jordan: Why don't you ahsk Trudeau about it? It was his gun! Ah yeah, I still owe you for that, don't I?

Trudeau: What the fuck are you talking about?!

Jordan: Stop talking out of your ass, Fart.

Jordan squeezes a clown horn before chucking it behind him

Horn: ParrRPpY-pArrRrP!

Jordan: Oh look, it's time to fist the mechanism, punchly punching!

Jordan comically yet angrily punches the clocking-out machine until it drops off the wall

Ext. Apartments

Jordan notices an ambulance on the forecourt of the apartments

Jordan: Tammy!?

A stretcher is wheeled into the ambulance

Jordan: Th-that's my wife.

Jordan climbs into the ambulance

Ext. Hospital

Detective: Dr Peterson, sorry to bother you. I'm detective Garytits, and this is detective Burp. We had a few questions but you weren't in. So... we spoke with your wife.

Jordan: Wife! What did you say to her? Did you do this?!

Burp: No-no-no, we just ahsked her some questions. She got hysterical... hyperventilating.

Jordan: The doctor said she had a stroke.

Garytits: We're sorry to hear about that. Like I said, I still have some questions. They're about the subway killings that happened last week. You've heard about them, right?

Jordan: Yeah. It's horrible.

Garytits: Right, so we spoke with the dean over at Toronto University, said you were fired for bringing a gun into a lecture, no pun intended. Is that tru-

Jordan: It was a prop. I was acting as John Wayne Gacy. I'm a psychology professor.

Burp: Alright, so why were you fired?

Jordan: Sigh! They said I 'wasn't eloquent enough', and the dropped revolver didn't help. Can you imagine that? Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take care of my wife.

Burp: The dean also gave us one of your cards. This condition of yours - laughing. Were you doing some sort of clown thing?

Jordan: A clown thing?!

Burp: Yeah. I mean part of your act.

Jordan: What do you think?

A tense and disgruntled Jordan flicks his cigarette away and turns in to a closed automatic door

Jordan looks up at the motion detector and waves at it

Garytits: It's 'Exit Only'.

Int. Hospital Room

Cathy Newman (On TV): An educator was filmed at his self-styled comedy protest, check out this jorker...

''What do you call...''

Jordan immediately springs out of his chair, smiling with pride as he gazes at the television

''a transwo- ah-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh! A trahhaghhhaghhhagh. A transwoman walks in to a bar... *masculine voice* OUUUCH!''

Cathy (On Tv): I have no idea what he's laughing about. Maybe he's a human punchline to his own pathetic brand of humour.

''Wh-hhagh-hhegh-hhagh-hhagh what is a transperson's favourite, ah-hhagh-hhagh, favourite soccer team? Transmere Genderfluid United''

Cathy (on TV): That was a comedy act against Bill C-16?! More like C-Shitty! The most enjoyable part was when he stopped. Oh, wait, he incoherently continues...

''AH-HHAGH-HHAGH-HHAGH... hhagh-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh. Mom, I'm gonna write a best-selling, self-help book. They're not laughing now!''

Cathy (On TV): He's the Professor of Psychology? Certainly ain't one of comedy, that's for sure. I think a clinician friend of his ought to diagnose him with ADHD - Asinine Dope's Humour Deflates.

Int. Peterson Apartment

Jordan sits in his and Tammy's bedroom, watching a small television depicting an incensed protester as part of a news report

Jordan: Ah-hhagh-hhagh. That gives me an idea!

Ext. Theatre

Jordan appears to enjoy the buzz of the protest crowd as he slowly inches through the array of irate people. He uses the congregation to his advantage by slipping out of the enormous gathering and towards a side entrance

We see Jordan exiting a changing room, wearing a smart usher blazer and hat

Int. Theatre

Jordan spots Richard Dawkins sat in the balcony area who then exits

Int. Toilet

Jordan gently enters an ornate men's toilets and removes the stolen blazer and hat at the side of a sink

Jordan: Richard Dawkins?

Richard: Hello. I've just urinated.

Jordan: I-I've wanted to talk to you about the axiomatic metaphysics of religious spirituality.

Richard: I have no interest in silly buhliefs based on no evidence. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to rinse the piss off my hands.

Jordan: My wife Tammy worked for you years ago, she was your secretary.

Richard: Mrs Peterson? Ah, so you must be her husband Jordan.

Jordan: Yueah.

Richard: Well, it's lovely to meet you, but I must be seated for the second half of Two Pints, right after this willy water has been cleansed from my fingers.

Jordan: I've discovered that you appreciate the Bible.

Richard: Well, only as literature. It has poetry but it's anything but reality!

Jordan grips Dawkins triceps as he moves away from the sink

Jordan: You are an evolutionary biolawgist genius, man. You're on the same level as Carl Jung.

Richard: That's terribly nice of you to say so. Carl Jung was indeed a stereotypical pipe-smoking intellectual and clever man, but his psycho-analytical theories are quite outdated, by my understanding.

Jordan: Let's have a discussion. Judeo-Christian values are predicated on Western civilisation. Y-you have to l-

Richard: Please! Let go!

Jordan: HOW CAN YOU SAY THAHT!? We can set up a venue. We can call it A Talk with the Dawk.

Richard jabs Jordan in the face


Richard: I shall not entertain your silly theory. We have evolved beyond ancient teachings and strengthened our moral compass out of spite for religion. *Sharply nods head* Now do fuck off! I have rid myself of the micturition which was dried into my digits. Two Pints commences again in a matter of minutes, I shall not miss the crude innuendo Gaz says to Donna.

Richard exits with dignity

Jordan dabs his nose as his outburst of laughter falters

Int. Apartment Hallway

Jordan's hair has been drenched by the rain. He's not happy about his meeting with Richard Dawkins. He storms through the hallway and enters an apartment

Mikhaila: Gasp! Dad!?!?

Jordan glumly looks at Mikhaila as he slowly presses the fingertips of his gun gesture to his temple

Int. Peterson Apartment

Jordan is stripped to his boxers. He laughs hysterically as he attempts to smoke a cigarette

Jordan empties the contents of his entire fridge in order to squeeze inside it then close the door behind him

The phones rings and we Jordan enter the room via a bedroom

Jordan: Hello?

Phone: Hi there, is that Dr Jordan Peterson?

Jordan: Yes. Sorry for taking some time to answer the phone, sitting inside a fridge does that to you.

Phone: Oh... erm. I'm a representative for Channel Four News. Our producer and Cathy Newman thought it would be great to interview you. Is that something you'd be pleased to do?

Jordan: ...sure. I'd be available for thaht.

Phone: Great. Can you come in for Thursday's programme?

Jordan: Yueah, definitely.

Phone: Do you know where the studios are?

Jordan: Yes.

Phone: Right, could you arrive at the reception desk for 5pm next Thursday? We'll collect you from the desk. That's 5pm.

Jordan: That'll be amazing. Thank you.

Int. Hospital

Jordan: You always told me my laughter was a condition, that there's something wrong with me. But there is nothing wrong with me. I feel like laughing.

Tammy: J O R D Y.

Jordan: 'Jordy'. I've always hated that nickname. I met him earlier, your previous employer Mr Dawkins.

Jordan has a drag on a cigarette

Jordan: You insisted he would listen to me. But instead, he thrust a washed fist into my nose. You know how much I hate receiving a bop to the nose whether the perpetrator whizzed on his or her knuckles or nawt. He didn't want to engage in a debate with me, not even on another day. Atheists and their fixation with logic and earthly truth. All people do is get my hopes up, only for it to come careering back at me.

Jordan menacingly rises from the waiting seat and approaches Tammy

Jordan: There's no transcendence in my existence. Life is suffering - and so are you, Tammy. How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? I must have a dark side also if I am to be whole.

Tammy: MwWMmM-WwwHHmmMM-mhFfFfF!

Int. Peterson Apartment, Living Room - Daytime

Jordan rewinds an episode of Cathy Newman on Channel 4 News

He re-enters the living room through a pair of make-shift curtains and sits coolly on the couch

Jordan: Cathy, thanks ve- Hey there, Cathy. Thank you so much for having me on the show. It's been a life-long dream of...

Jordan points the unloaded revolver under his chin and daftly jerks in his seat on the click of the chamber, flailing his arms in an exaggerated manner

Int. Peterson Apartment - Bathroom

Jordan paints his face ready for the Cathy Newman Show, and dances in front of a cabinet mirror. Suddenly, the bell rings and he casually answers the door

Warwick: Hey Jordan! How's it going?

Jordan: Hi guys. Come on in.

Warwick: Did you get a new gig?

Jordan: No, no, roughly speaking.

Trudeau: You must be going down to that rally at city hall. I heard it's gonna be nuts.

Jordan: Oh, is that today?

Trudueau: Yeah! Well what's with the make-up, then?

Jordan: My wife died. I'm celebrating.

Trudeau: Y- celebrating?!?! Erm, that's why we came over, you could do with some cheering up.

Jordan: Oh wow! A paper bag in the shape of a bottle. That's sweet and very postmodern. You know, I feel good. I've stop taking my medication - I feel a lot better now.

Trudeau: Oh, okay... good for you. So hey, listen, uhm... I don't know if you heard, the cops have been showing up, talking to all the guys.

Warwick: They never spoke to me.

Trudeau: That's because the suspect isn't a short-ass called Warwick. If he was a fucking midget he'd be in jail right now.

Jordan: AhhHhh-HhaAaGH-hHaAaaGH-HhAaAaAGH!

Trudeau: So anyway, whoever that gutless coward is, is a complete nutbar. According to what I heard, one of the victims was shot in the ass. What idiot blasts someone in the ass?! Can't even aim properly.

Jordan: Yeah, well, maybe he wasn't cut out for the life of a psychopath.

Trudeau: Yeah, perhaps. Why, if he was in this room right now, he'd have to shoot me before I beat his ass. It may sound sharp of me to say so, but this guy has made me a suspect for shit I didn't do.

Trudeau: Anyway... the dean said they talked to you, now they're looking for me. I just wanna know what you said. Make sure our stories line up.

Jordan (In Unison): Hmm, yeah that's important.

Trudeau (In Unison): You're my boy.

Jordan: Makes a lawt of sense.

Trudeau: You-know-what-I-mean.

Jordan: Thank you, Trudeau. *Nods gloomily* I just want to make a quick point...

Jordan plunges the scissors into Trudeau's neck and claret spurts out as he cries in horror while Jordan embeds the scissors into Trudeau's eye

Warwick: No! Jordan!

Jordan bounces Trudeau's head into the wall several times

Jordan: Huff! Puff! Huff! Puff! (To Warwick) Do you watch the Cathy Newman Show? I'm gonna be on tonight. Fu'ing crazy, innit. Mey on thuh telly, guv'na. 'alf a crown ain't no wage for a chimney sweep with dysentery.

Trudeau: What the fuck, Jordan!? That's really untenable.

Jordan: What?! *Long pause* It's okay, Warwick, I'm not going to hurt you. Looks like I'm going to have to clean my room.

Warwick is terrified as he reluctantly tries to leave

Warwick: Auh-huah-huuaaah!

Jordan: Don't look, roughly speaking. Just go.

Jordan thrusts his arms forward and growls

Warwick desperately attempts to grab at the door's lock that's too high for him to reach

Warwick: Jordan?

Jordan: Sorry, Warwick. Let me get that for you. You've always been nice to me. You were always the best Ewok. Receive my wet pucker to your head. Oh! You've had a hair trahnsplahnt just like me.

Cool Fucking Music


Jordan: Oh crap! The fuzz!

Jordan sprints off in to the street

Jordan: How can these guys be about 30 feet away from me when they were approximately 100 feet away on that exhausting stairway!?!?

A taxi ploughs into Jordan, causing him to launch into a roll, but it doesn't slow him down

Ext. Station

Jordan thunders up a staircase and enters a crowded train. Garytits and Burp manage to prize open the doors before they close

A cautious Jordan slithers through the carriages


Jordan (Muttering): Oh, not that Future guy again.

Jordan swipes a Clowelln mask off of a protester's face

Man: Whut da fuuuck?!

The man shoves Jordan into a second man who has his back to them. The second man throws a punch without hesistation at the first man thereby instigating an all-out punchfest.


A protester grab's Burp's outstretched arm in an attempt to wrestle the gun off him, resulting in the protester being shot in the abdomen

The train comes to a smooth stop and a mass of people pile out on to a platform like deranged cattle, dragging Burp and Garytits to the ground for a walloping

Int. Dressing Room

Jordan: Cathy!

Producer: Ms. Newman, you degenerate slack.

Cathy: Ahh, c'mon, there's no need for formalities, that's all bullshit.

Jordan: Thank you, Cathy. I feel like I know you. I've been watching you forever.

Producer: It depends on what you mean by 'forever'.

Jordan: Well, erm, roughly speaking.

Cathy: Thank you. What's with the face?

Jordan: Didn't you know it relaunched? I found it there on the dressing panel.

Cathy: I don't mean the magazine. I mean your face.

Jordan: Well, it's bone, muscle and skin.

Cathy: No-no, the make-up. Are you part of the protests?

Jordan: No, no, I don't believe in any of thaht. I dhn't bhlieve in anythhing. I'm not right-wing, nor do I represent incels or Merg-towels.

Cathy: Well, it's good you're not a protestor, but it appears you've got your make-up on upside down.

Jordan: Oh... fuck! I rushed my touch-up when I got here. I knew I shoulda wiped that bloody graffiti off. I thought it'd be good for my act.

Producer: Good for your act!? Didn't you hear what happened on the subway? Some clowelln got killed.

Cathy (mumbled): He's aware of that.

Jordan: No, I wasn't pursued by two detectives on the subway, nor did I pinch somebody's clowelln mask that led to a massive fight, consequently causing an accidental shooting. And I didn't relive the event I recently experienced on that small television opposite me.

Producer: This is what I'm talking about, the audience will go nuttybaba once they lay their eyes on him. Bring him on maybe for a bit, not a whole segment.

Cathy: Hey, it's gonna work.

Jordan: Thank you, Cathy.

Cathy: Just a couple of rules, though - no swearing, even thought I said 'shitty' weeks ago but that was a technical term. And no acts of violence with firearms, okay. We're gonna do a clean interview. Come on after Jon Snow.

Jordan: Oh, I love Games of Tropes.

Cathy: Good. Sal will come and get you. Good luck.

Jordan: Thanks, Cathy.

Cathy and Producer proceed to exit

Jordan: Cathy, could you do me one small thing: when you bring me out, can you introduce me as Jorker?

Producer: What's wrong with your real name?

Jordan: That's what you called me on the show - a Jorker. D'ya rhmembhr?

Cathy: Aw yew tawken ta me?

Jordan: Yes. Not your producer.

Cathy: Did I?! Maybe I tried to say jerk-off and it came out wrongly. Well, if you say so, kid. Jorker it is. It's good.

Producer: I'm not so sure about the suit, looks a bit...

Cathy sways as she studies Jordan's suit

Cathy: Erm, yeah Jordan, your suit appears to have scuffs and damp patches on the rear of your waist. There's a spare suit you can wear if you want to look your finest. It's not as colourful, but it's freshly cleaned.

Jordan: I couldn't wait to get here. I was hit by a taxi as I sprinted across the street, but I'm alright now. Thanks, Cathy.

Cathy: He doesn't have issues; he has a decade-long subscription. Let's derisively play a few clips

Cathy: My next guest is professor and a mental health doctor who aspires to be a comedian, and we could all do with a laugh in these dark times, so please welcome Jorker

Jordan enters from the left of the view and does a burst of tap dancing as best he can

Cathy: That was quite an entrance.

Cathy: Are you okay?

Jorker: I'm nawt political. I'm jzt tryna make people leaugh.

Cathy: Oh yeah? Well, if you weren't so hopelessly unfunny maybe people would emit a giggle.

Jorker: Aw-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh-hhaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAGHH!

Cathy: Oh, he's got a book.

Jorker turns several pages and reads aloud

Jorker: Pursue what is important, not what is expedient.

Cathy: You had to look that up?

Jorker: Come on, it's not a knock-knock joke.

Cathy: Tell us a knock-knock joke, then.

Jorker: Knock-knock.

Cathy: Who's there?

Jorker: Wooden leg.

Cathy: Oh. Completely dire.

Jorker: Knock-knock.

Cathy: Who's there?

Jorker: Boo.

Cathy: Boo who?

Jorker: There's no need to cry, bitch.

Cathy: Woeful!

Jorker: Knock-knock.

Cathy: Wh-

Jorker: Interruption.

Cathy: What an act he's got. Go on, one last joke. And it better be funny.

Jorker: It's the police, ma'am. YOU HAVE AIDS IN YOUR ANUS!

Cathy: Well, ahem, that was quite brash. You appear to be a champion of free speech. Tell us more about that, but no more rubbish jokes, please.

Jorker: In order to be able to speak freely, you have to risk being offensive. Look at the conversation we're having. You're certainly willing to risk offending me in the pursuit of comedy. Why should you be able to do that?! It's been rather uncomfortable. Much like how those three postmodernists felt when I shot them.

Jorker coyly smiles with irony

Camera Man: GaAAaAasp!

Cathy: Excuse me, what?! You killed them?!

Jorker: It depends on what you mean by 'there is no punchline'.

Cathy: So you're saying you shot those poor men?

Jorker: They weren't poor, Cathy. They were stinking rich. Stinking like a fish. They couldn't carry a tuna to save their llllives.

Cathy: So what you're saying is you thought it was funny?

Jorker: I didn't say thaaht. Comedy is subjective, Cathy - isn't that what they say? All of you, the politically correct system that knows soooo muwch, you decide what's offensive or oppressive. The same waaaay you decide what's funnay or nawt.

Cathy: I might understand that maybe you did this to start a moooovement, to become a symbol?

Jorker: Uh, come on, Café. I told you in the dressing room I don't believe in anything. Do you really think an academic wearing face paint could start a movement?!

Cathy: Why do you call me 'Café' when my name ends with 'fee'?!

Jorker: Wuell, the other guy is called Murray but is pronounced muhree, soeh, this is like the opposite of thaht.

Cathy: Why shouldn't a young wealthy Postmodernist's right to live trump your own?

Jorker: Because they're pathetic beings on the dominance hierarchy, Cathy. They're nothing more than lobsters with damaged pincers. I killed those postmodernists because they were awful. Everybody is awful these days. It's enough to make anyone crazy, clinically speaking. But it depends on what you mean by 'I killed'. There was no outside observer and there never will be. It's based on fragmentary viewpoints.

Cathy: You're crazy - that's your defense for killing those poor young men?!

Jorker: No. I just ended their 'train' of thought.

Film crew: Groan!

Jorker: Uugghh! Why is everybody so upset about these guys?!?! If it were me lying on the sidewalk you'd walk right over me. Every day you mind your own business and you don't notice me out of hundreds of people. Oh, but because Richard Dawkins would cry about them on TV.

Cathy: So you're saying you have a problem with Richard Dawkins?

Jorker: Yes. I. Do. Have you seen what it's like out there, Café. Do you ever leave the Channel 4 studio? He's fixated by the wonders of science. Religious text that predicates every facet of the West can be psychologically stimulating. He doesn't care about the archetypes and benefits one can derive from ancient stories. Nobody reads CHRONICLES ANYMORE! Nobody ever thinks about what it's like to be t h e o t h e r g u y; do you think someone like Richard Dawkins ever thinks about what's it like to be someone like me, to be somebody but themselves - they don't! They think we're gonna take it like ghd liddle atheists! Wild werewolves or something!

Cathy: It sounds like you're making up excuses for killing those young postmodernists. Not everybody - and I'll tell you this - not everybody is awful.

Jorker: You're awful, Cathy... accurately speaking.

Cathy: Oh yeah!? How am I awful?

Jorker (Lightly through gritted teeth): You played the video of my comical protest. You invited me on the show. You just brought me on here to make fun of me. You're just like the rest of 'em.

Cathy: Ah-hah-hah, well, you do sound a bit like Kermit the Frog. You had no right killing those postmodernists

Jorker: I have the right to do and say what I want, Café. Did you know, in the American Constitution the First Amendment is freedom of speech. Do you know what the Second Amendment is?

Cathy: Is it the right to bear arms?

Jorker: No. I am! Bangadee bang!

Cathy: Your joke doesn't work. Firstly, you're Canadian. And secondly, this is the United Kingdom.

Jorker: I know. How about about another joke, Cathy?

Cathy: No, we've had enough of your terrible jokes. Someone call the police and arrest this borked cucumber.


Jorker: What do you get when you cross a neurotic public intellectual with A POSTMODERN SOCIETY THAT TRIES TO STIFLE FREE SPEECH AND GETS HIM TO KISS THE ASS OF TRANS?

Cathy: Don't care. Someone get the police here.


Jorker: Hah! Gotcha!

Jorker giggles before unloading a superfluous shot into Cathy's chest

Jorker awkwardly twists and bobs into a brief dance before skipping over to the camera

Jorker: Goodnight. And always remember, clean your r-

Off-air Music

Huw Edwards: The Channel Four news pree-sen-tAh Cathy Newman has been shot dead at point blank range...

Sean Hannity: It was a completely appalling and downright evil interview. Gun-toting maniac Jordan Peterson brought a whole new meaning to the term 'criminal psychologist'.

Krishnan Guru-Murthy: We're all utterly devastated by this spontaneous, disturbing and senseless murder. Jordan Peterson, I hope you suffer, 'mate'.

Jeff Stelling: Ohhhh! What a brilliant freekick! Right under the crossbar! Wolverhampton Wanderers scored against Ipswich Town in the twenty-eighth minute of extra time.

Australian News: Peterson, calling himself Jorker, launched a bitter tirade at socoiety - live - before unloading a dihdly projectoile into Cathy Newman's fayce.

Steve Paikin: I'm still struggling to come to terms with the news. We've recently discovered he murdered his former work buddy and also euthanised his sick wife with a Kermit puppet. And I knew him quite well... clearly not well enough. He wasn't well enough.

Ext. Streets - Night time

Eric Clapton and his Cream: Enoch had a point.

Jorker: Ah-hhah-hhah.

Policeman Driver: Shut up, professor of freakology! You started this shit.

Jordan rests his forehead against the fenced divider

Jorker: I know. The Dragon of Chaos reigns supreme in Toronto.

Policeman: Eh?! You're in England. Oh, you're mental, I forgot. And where did you get that suit from, the briefing I got identified you as a clown in a grey suit?

Jorker: I got changed backed into my original suit before you arrested me. Anyways, why are we in a NY-style cop c-


Clowelln Thug: Hey Dawkins! Lalla gets wet sucking de Burgh!

Dawkins: I'm sorry, excuse me!?

Clowelln Thug: Sorry, lemme try that again. You get what you fucking deserve. God says hello.

Dawkins: First of all, God is merely a hypoth-

Dawkins gets shot by Clowelln Thug


Clowelln Thug: Fuck your pearl necklace! Have this bullet!

Clowelln Thug blasts Lalla

Jordan regains consciousness and coughs up a speck of blood

A dazed Jordan gets to his feet and observes the surrounding crowd of rioters cheering for him

A smirk spreads across his face before he does a triumphant dance on the bonnet

He tastes a hint of blood on his lips and extends his make-up smile with his blood as smeared by his fingertips

Int. Interview/Assessment Room


Psychiatrist: What do you find funny?

Jorker: It's a joke I'm thinking of.

Tom Waits - Downtown Train plays in Jorker's mind and he manically whispers the lyrics behind a sinister smirk

Jorker: Will I see you tonight. On a downtown train? All of my dreams just fall like rain. Well, on a downtown train.

Jorker, with his head bowed, trudges in to view and walks the length of a tiled corridor, leaving behind bloody prints. He pauses at the window and does a shuffling jig until two orderlies cause him to sprint back and forth in a cartoon-like manner

rue the polywhirl

What is this, Jord Of The Rings Episodes I-IX? Why does the Channel 4 news presenter lady with a gun pointed at her have a black smudge on her nose? Are you making fun of Dr Jordan Peterson?




All of the faces are brilliant, that Newman death pose haha.


Thanks guys, I'm glad my debut film helped you to conquer your dragon or something - Dr Jordan Bee Peterson :)



Steve Paikin: What's in a name? Potentially, a great deal. University of Toronto psychology professor, Jordan 'Pervertson' Peterson, has a fight on his hands (as opposed to lubricant, for a change) ahfter objecting to propose legislation which he said would 'violate' his freedom of speech by forcing him to address transgender people using the pronouns of their choosing. Joining us now to better understand the issue and debate what's at stake, in Vancouver, British Columbia, Taryn Meyer - transgender pundit and YouToober. In the nation's capital, Kyle Kirker, professor of law at the University of Ottawa. And here in the stoodio is the aforementioned Jordan Peterson, professor of psychology, University of Toronto. Nicholas Matte, lecturer, Trandsgender Studies at the U of T. And Mary Rogan, whose article entitled 'Growing Up Trans' is featured in the October issue of the Walrus magazine. Well, we appreciate you three and our two friends on the live feed for being here to debate this matter. Hottest tahpic! It's all because of you, professor Peterson. *cooly looks at the camera and aims his index finger* roll it...

Crowd: Per-vert-son! Per-vert-son! Per-vert-son!

Jordan: FREEDOM TO SPUNK is what keeps our society fucktioning.


Jordan: That's fine. Will it be on PornHub?

SJW: No. My pronouns, professor Pervertson, my pronouns!

Bandana Guy: I'm a person of colour, and I felt very accumadated.


Steve: Well, professor Pervertson (or Peterson as you're properly known), I'm going to start with you. You've thought long and hard about this.

Jordan: It's not the only thing that's long and hard.

Steve: One and a hahf million hits later, Jordan, one and a hahf million hits later this has become a huge issue. Why did you post those views to YouToob in the first place?

Jordan: Wuell, there were prawximate and distill reasons. The prawximate reason is PornHub's server was down, soeh I needed to sustain myself by pahssing the time, roughly speaking.I looked at correspondence from clients of mine who had, I would say, been pervsecuted in a variety of holes by those who are politically erect. They sent me some dawcumentation abouet Bill C-16 and the associated pawlicy statements on the Ontario Human Rights Cummission - which I read. And was nawt very happy abouet, uhm, and also because the University of Toronto have decided to make anti-racism and anti-bias training mandatory. Which I regarded as unstimulating fodder that's wholly unsatisfactory in the domain of tugging your hose.

Steve: Have you taken that training yet?

Jordan: No, and I don't have to yet. It's the HR and personnel department that has to.

Steve: And if they decide t-

Jordan: No way! Not a chahnce!

Steve: And you refer to pervsecution of friends or clients of yours have experie-

Jordan: Yaeah, yaeah, wuell, there are lawts of places in the workplace where people can jerk awff. For exahmple, toilet cubicle, janitor's clawset, maintenance/utility room, under your desk, and at the rear of the CEO's car. I can't really speak abouet it, because of used tissues relating to cumfidentiality.

Steve: Well, what I'm essentially ahsking is what do you fundamentally find shitty about this legislation?

Jordan: Wuell, fundamentally there were two things which really bawthered me, although there have been other things I've thawght about since, like... oh, I-dunno... a bountiful queue of voluptuous women running in slow motion - naked - things like thaht. I was being assked to use a certain set of words to enter into the search bar of my chosen fapping ground by people with a political ihdeology that I don't believe in.

Steve: What are those words?

Jordan: It's the made-up words that people now describe as gender neutral search terms, and I believe it's an attempt to control wankuage. It's not fappening orgasmically, people aren't picking up these search terms in a typical way that new words are picked up but by force and through fiat, like 'zhe deepthroats big cocks' and 'zher big tits'

Steve: They're naht all quote unquote made-up words, 'they' is one of them.

Jordan: Right, but we cahn't dispense with the distinction between singular and plural. I know that the fapvocates of that puhtikyurlur rule say that 'they' has been used forever as a singular - and that's actually not correct. It's used as a singular in very exceptional circumstances, it's like: if your husband wishes to give you a double-headed ultra-max vibrator for Christmas, they're welcome to do you up the ass.

Steve: Grammatically incorrect?

Jordan: There is masturbate, I mean mass debate abouet whether it's grabasstically erect or nawt, but it's never been used as a replacement for 'he' or 'she'. So it's naawt a tenable solution.

Steve: Let's bring Nicholas Matte into this.

Nicholas: I'd appreciate it, Dr Petersssson, if you'd ressspect the pronounssss people would like you to ussse.

Jordan: Yueah, sure. Soeh, 'Matte', that's an unfortunate surname.

Nicholas: Wh-what do you mean precissssely?

Jordan: Wuell, 'matte' isn't an appropriate word to describe your scintillating head. Uh-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh.

Nicholas: Can I ssspeak with the campusss climate about this because, er, I don't agree with why Dr Peterssson has been ahssked to sstop abusssing ssstoodents on campusss.

Jordan: To stop what?!

Nicholas: Abusssing ssstoodents on campussss.

Jordan (Nonchalantly): I see...

Mary: Do I get to say anything?

Steve: Yes. Go on, Mary...

Mary: It's okay, I've finished.

Steve (To Jordan): So we understand your views and where you're coming from. 

Jordan: It depends on what you mean by 'coming'.

Steve: From your perspective, naht as in ejaculation.

Jordan: Yeap, okay.

Steve: You've decided to lay these views ouet in YouToob discourses, you've put them up, the response has been overwhelming. Did you anticipate this?

Jordan: There's no way of fapticipating this. I didn't have my bawx of Kleenex ready. Do we have Kleenex in Canada? Who am I asking?! You said in the intro that this is a consequence of what I've done. I don't think that's true. It's the cumsequence of the fact I- I thawght abouet it, and I think the right metaphor is: there's a large forest. There's a man polishing his chopper. He's awbviously a lumberjack, therefore he jacks off wood. He can bear the pleasures of what he does, and if he's confronted with a threat, he can lie down and act as though he's dead stiff. But he doesn't produce sawdust, he produces a sticky sap which he launches into a bush. *Nods head with a tight-lipped expression* It's not possible for someone to upload a YouToob video and create all this brouhaha, and that's because YouToob doesn't allow the upload of sexually explicit cawntent, soeh there's no stimuli for me to rhythmically vertical my hard.

Steve: Fair enough. There is ouet there an appetite against political correctness, which is what you've described your YouToob video as 'Professor Against Political Correctness', but let's make sure we're speaking the same language here. You would define that, how?

Jordan: Wuell, I think it's a puhtikyuhlur ideolawgical game, and I think the outcome is two-fold; it's to make the player feel erawtically superior and to take rahther serious swings of their cawck at the foundation of society, so the game is: identify a domain of human endeavour, note that there's a distribution of succsex - some are doing cumparitvely better and some cumparitively worse. Find those doing worse as dicktims, define those doing better as pervpertrators, identity with the dicktims, have a set of feminine women so you can get handy, feel good about it despite the friction burns. And then endless beat. And I've seen that fappening on cams in puhtikyuhlur for the lahst 20 years.

Steve: You've said those who are against your YouToob video are quote unquote resentful cunts.

Jordan: Yes.

Steve: Tell me why you think that's accurate.

Jordan: Wuell, I worked for the NDP - National Dick Pounders - when I was a teenager between the ages of 14-18, I worked for Rachel Norkly's fawther and her mother, and I found them to be very admirable people - pahtikyoolarlee Rachel's mother who had a great bust and an ass tighter than a gimp's wallet - as well as the people on the distribution end of the sociajist front who were genuinely wanking for the jerking class, health care, pension and awll of thaht. But I noted at the time the party fucktionaries, let's say, weren't thaht sort of person at awll; they didn't really like the jerking class, they weren't standing up for them. I couldn't put my finger on it until I read George Orgasm's Road to Wigan Pussy - it's a brilliant book, more so if you slip a copy of Maple Syrup Tits in between the pages. It was written for the left-handed wankers club in the UK. And he was talking abouet the failure of sociajism in the United Kingdom and then jizzcussed the intellectual sociajists of the type who didn't exactly like the poorn, they just masturbhated the rich.

Steve: Resentful and uninformed?

Jordan: Yes. Wuell, the resentful part is the willyness to pull off any fuckture that's hierarchical.

Steve: Let's go to British Columbia, erm, camera-wise I mean, to help us understand what the asswiping fuck this is all about. Theryn's wheel, I would like you to describe yourself.

Theryn: Uhm, well, I'm YouTube.

Steve: Sorry-to-interrupt-you, Theryn. Are you Australian or do you have a very soft and refined German accent?

Theryn: I... don't know.

Steve: Okay, good to know. Is it accurate to say you are a transwoman?

Theryn: Yes.

Steve: Do I refer to you as she or her?

Theryn: For fuck's sake, man, I didn't go through all this surgery for you to ask me the obvious. Yes.

Steve: Right. Cool.

Theryn: At the end of the day, I don't have ultimate control over what Dr Peterson, erm, the language he chooses to use.

Steve: Let's find out what Jordan thinks. *To Jordan* If she were a stoodent of yours, what pronoun would you use for her. I've giving you two glaringly cues. Don't fuck this up, Petersonnnnn


Jordan: ...s e x y.

Steve: Sorry?

Jordan: I mean 'she'.

Theryn: I wan-

Jordan: Excuse me, shut the fuck up for sec, please. I want to ahsk you.

Theryn: Yes?

Jordan: Have you... y'know... got them done?

Theryn: Erm, got what done, dee-ar Pervyson?

Jordan: Your pectorals. Are they breastorals now?

Theryn: Yes.

Jordan: Great. Erm-erm, I mean it's great that you've transitioned. The beast under my belly has transitioned into the dragon. The precum is its hot breath.

Steve: Jordan, back to the topic at hand.

Jordan: Wuell, that's not a bad idea.

Steve: We're s-

Jordan: Please, don't cawkblawk me. Save the line of inkruries later. I'm currently working my magic on this rahther attractive individual. *To Theryn* Soeh... has the 'construction work' been completed? I mean, there are many girders on a literal construction site, but has your girder been tweaked?

Theryn: You mean... has my former peynis been changed into a vaginah?

Jordan: Yuep.

Theryn: Yes, it's all there.

Jordan: So what did they do with it? Augment your dinghat and forehood into a massive clit?

Theryn: Something larke that, yes.

Jordan: Wuell... may we see it?

Theryn: Tee-hee-hee, no.

Jordan: Okay, may I see it?

Theryn: No!

Jordan: Come on, Thorny. Show us your twart.

Steve: Jordan, let's continue the discussion. This is quite inappropriate.

Jordan: Yuep, sorry.

Kyle: Excuse me, I'd like to interject if I may?

Steve: Sure, go ahead, Kyle.

Kyle: For the past several minutes you've all engaged in this meandering exchange about gender-related search terms you type into popporn websites.
It's not abouet that!!!!

Steve: Oh?! What's it all about, then?

Kyle: Well, Bill C-16, gender pronouns and legislation. Firstly, i-


Steve: An abrupt end to The Agenda. We thank our guests on the live feed and here in the stoodio. I've been your charmingly endearing host with wiry yet mousse-like hair, and I have a razor-sharp jawline. Goodnight.


July 19, 2020, 08:04:30 PM #66 Last Edit: July 19, 2020, 08:24:46 PM by DangledTeeth

White-haired Bloke: Good arvo, cunts. Welcome to another excoiting episaode of Q&A. Joining me on the panel is Sheila Hancock/Margaret Thatcher hybrid. Jordan Peterson, a psychology prefessah at the University of Torontaoh. We also have Dark-haired Woman alongsoyde Jordan. Some blaoke seated near me ind a lady called Van Badham - no, I ain't jaoking - who's a fiminist wroyta or something. And neow I'll begin with you, Jordan - I airsk you this qwistion: do you believe in god?

Jordan: You know, that's a good question. Erm... it-it's private. I mean, that doesn't mean to say it's exclusively true to myself as reality is the fundamental and observable experience we endure as a collective of people. But everyone projects periphery meta-physical truths and experiences which encroach the spirituality of endeavour. Literature is a bloody remarkable conduit of, let's say, *wriggles fingers* mytholawgical verisimilitude, or something like thaht. Gawd may or may not exist in a physical sense, but my mind is inclined to go abouet my life as though He exists, and I sometimes crap my pants - not literally -  over the possibility Sky Beard might exist. It's not a close-ended question. There isn't a yes or no as an answer, except for a how and why, y'know, how and why do we serve the Heavens. It's nestled with complexity - it-it's tough, man. I've thought abouet it a laawt. We don't have the time to adhere to linguistical constructs anyways. Because... *squints* yes or no is not sufficient in the eyes of Gawd, for what you say is a language constructed through the ephemera of life - and Gawd is life, paradoxically speaking. He is the father of every life who has the gift to orate the conscious prahcess of the suffering individual, both pathalawgically and clinically - I'm well versed in this domain, for I have studied the literature. We don't get to say yes or no as to whether He exists, because we are servants to our innermost thoughts and our servitude only ends when the inevitable expiration happens. He'll cahst his gaze upon the souls who lived and woven a generational narrative for the story to continue through families. There is no concrete evidence except his transcendental Being manifested in Western cultures across the centuries through the edited anthologies of Christ and his Disciples, and what people act ouet is evidence of Being and it unifies the beneficial functionaries of societies. When I consider the element of suffering in life I then think abouet the trials and tribulations of Jesus Christ who, let's say, wasn't treated very well by the postmawdern chin-strokers in the humanities department of Roman Judaea. They didn't exactly hate the blasphemous; they just hated the Messiah. Jesus' bawdy was heroically presented before the ravages of the elements, y'know. *furrows brow* It was terrible, man. Wuell, it was terrible in a physical sense, as being nailed to a crawss and *slides wedding ring back and forth* left to be smothered by the shadows of death like the helpless victims of tyrants like Stalin, Hitler and Mao is no laughing matter. *Shakes head* But his three-day incumbency on the Crawss of Sacrifice was nawt done in vain, for He has inspired and assisted people in their pursuit for the betterment of mankind - of course, the radical feminists would prawbably have something to say aboeut thaht 'troublesome noun', despite competent men dying in wars and making robust concrete sandwiches with bricks in order to give them a house where they lived their comfortable domestic life up until the late 1960s. Soeh, Jesus' abandonment by the people for a gradual yet honourable demise is a testament to endurance, sincerity and forgiveness. The postmawdern Pilate didn't understand the significance of the group; he was too wrapped up in the social justice warriors' games pertaining to identity pawlitics because he succumbed to the arbitrary artifice of tyranny, which it was. And soeh... Jesus lives ouet the rest of his life, roughly speaking, on the illustrious pages of the Bible and people are still reading the metaphorical foundation and ballasts of Western civilisation thousands of years later. Th-that's wonderful, man.

...and the Bolsheviks revolution came to its bloody conclusion, literally speaking, at the hand of blood-thristy Marxists who pillaged the innocents and decimated the fabric of our culture for what they saw as an inherently prahblematic and corrupt system, and until 1991 the communist Marxists had replaced the bedrawck of their imperialist utopia with hard labour and so-called rewards for innovation. Yueah, wuell, get your act straight, bucko!! The hammer and sickle will only direct you to the oppressive gulags where you can consoome famine for your next meal. If you're against free enterprise and hierarchies while you advocate the dawctrine of Foucault and Derrida then you cannot pawssibly mind if I deface the paintwork of your car which you drive to your bureaucratic awffice jawb between the hours of nine a.m. and five p.m, all so you can be provided with duplicated flat awbjects the communists tried to abawlish, in other words: money. *shakes head* Uh-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh. Good luck with thaht. Soeh...

...because that's why Ivan Milat murdered those poor people who sought adventure. Psychopathic nihilism will do that to you, man. It's really tragic when people cahn't articulate their prawblems and slip into a vicious world of despair, frequently on the brink of deciding whether to 'set the world straight' with massacre or continuing to act resentful in silence. Milat was essentially Captain Hook, and his victims were - in some ways - like Peter Pan and the Lost Boys in terms of their youth. I mean, the murder victims were awbviously self-sufficient and were nawt childlike in the developmental sense, but their lust for adventure turned ouet to be a catastrophe; they never had the opportoonity to grow up enough to become old and mould their realities for the greater good of humanity. The social justice warriors have a remarkable similarity with the Lost Boys and Ivan Milat for that matter, for they are the privileged children who hurl aimless slogans at innocent people walking on their pahth. With each sole that transcends their manouevrability there's another footprint leading to the depths of an ideolawgical hell. We cannawt follow these imprints left in the soil. Our destiny is shaped by a certain level of freewill *rolls forearm* which, of course, sounds unusual because freewill shouldn't be limited by any markers of impediment, but awbviously the postmawdernists in HR would say otherwise. The radical leftist crowd - who are comparable to Hook's arch-rival, the 'tick-tock' crocodile - play this insidious game of diversity where the oppressed intersectional feminists don't aim to govern where the diversity ends in strict terms of equality of outcome, forever circling the shallow waters with the hope that time will provide them with a drought of all-round equity. *Shakes head*  Some groups will strive for the impawssible. It's no bloody wonder why the social sciences are knee-deep in proverbial turds.

White-haired Bloke: Jordun, I deon't mean to be brash or enything, maite. What you've sid has been tremendously insightful, but could you please airnswer the qwistion: do you believe in God? Yes or no?

Jordan: Sigh! I'm not satisfied with the way this question has been ahsked. What is meant by 'believe' anyways?! Because *parts arms and wriggles fingers* belief is the emotional respawnse based on a multitude of external stimulus which affects the amygdala, which is where the flight-and-fight emotion derives from. Emotion is a separate component to rationality, y'know. And this is fundamentally important because your question has flummoxed me to the point where it's too arduous for me to speak ouet an efficacious ahnswer.

White-haired Bloke: It's a straighforward qwistion, Jordan. Yes or no?

Jordan: The two awptions are predicated exactly on what?

White-haired Bloke: The existence of God.

Jordan: Soeh, what exactly do you mean by Gawd?

White-haired Bloke: A deity, maite. A supreme being that operates at a higher level.

Jordan: Oh. 'Higher level'?! But Gawd isn't the humanities, though.

White-haired Bloke: Ah, so you acknowledge - in your mind - that God exists for you to say he or she is not something else?

Jordan: I'm going to have to say that I'm maybe agnostic abouet that puhtickyuhler question.

White-haired Bloke: Fucking strewth, maite! Ar give up.


Brilliant as always mate, I've seen the video and you get the delivery spot on.


November 10, 2020, 08:31:27 PM #68 Last Edit: November 10, 2020, 10:55:39 PM by DangledTeeth

Hello YouToob. It's me, Dr Jordan Peterson. Wuell, I don't know who you were expecting instead of me as this is my YouToob channel and you can see me in the preview pic, but anyways. And thank you for your kind words, Bazooka. :)

As a majawrity of you will know, roughly speaking, I received treatment for my chrawnic porn addiction. I came back with exciting material at the start of 2020 in the form of lectures based on art and music, which I'll be working on again soon (including more releases from the Pervertson-era archive). And there was the release of my critically-acclaimed film called Jorker - the Blu-ray including deleted scenes shall be released in December.

It-it's been tough, man. To initially control my addiction by nawt observing sordid talkies I was prescribed a drug called bendoverdiwankzipines, which then developed these neurolawgical complications thereby formulating a condition called whackesthesia, where the individual has episodic urges to masturbate, y'know, it was sometimes like feeling a piece of sandpaper being gently brushed over my balls. Of course, I know what that feels like as I used to be a bloody pervert. It was terrible, and soeh, I... needed to get awff the candy before I pounded my noodle awff.

Soeh what fhappened exactly? A laawt, I can tell you. I friend of mine, who's a technawlogy expert, blawcked all the adult websites on our family systems and devices, which was of tremendous value and gave me more time to do my writing and focus on YouToob. I had the misfortune of tooning in then being routinely greeted by the homepage recommendations, y'know, it was usually Italian beauty contests hosted in halls and outdoor sections of restaurants. I'd also be tempted to view these lingerie and bikini catwalk videos and they're in glorious 4k, man. The perfect saturation and flawless clarity transcends the Being. There would also be videos abouet pole vaulting - I was keen to support fellow Canadian Alysha Newman, eeh. The way she traverses the hawrizontal bar with wonderful finesse is truly remarkable and a majestic sight to scrutinise, and it was also interesting to see that her record-breaking achievement adjusted the rear positioning of her trunks. Of course, my support was... *contemplative nod* very enthusiastic, let's say.

My daughter Mikhaila suggested trying ouet ASMR videos at bedtime to help me unwind. I've heard abouet this trend of hushed speaking as part of a relaxation technique and thought abouet it a laawt. And soeh, it started awff innocently and was quite relaxing, things like whispering and the emissions of scratched material were the tropes. But then the videos started to raise an eyebrow as well as my cawck. One pahtikyuhlur video - and this was uploaded to YouToob, by the way - had this brunette lady as part of an office roleplay scenahrio, where the viewer is addressed as the boss who's a little stressed, y'know. And before I knew it, she whispered a suggestion for me to cum on her. Wuell, that depends on what she means by thaht. Is she talking abouet ejaculation or seductively asserting myself in terms of man-and-woman communication?! If it was the former, then it also depends on what she meant by 'me', i.e. her, as she's now a two-dimensional depiction displayed on an electrawnic screen. It'd be pretty stoopid for anybody to blahst their wad over their monitor on purpose. And yeah, I have done it accidentally.

And soeh, I avoided those videos. But then I was recommended another ASMR YouToober called Cherry Crush. Her videos were nothing out of the ordinary, but then somewhere among all the generally suitable material was an upload which prawbably derived from her OnlyFans page or somewhere like thaht. It could still be on YouToob, where she applies lotion to a 'flexible sculpture' and does not one but two countdowns for, y'know, releasing your excess baggage. *Shakes head* my foreskin looked like a rhino in a sauna that day, man. And if any of you have started up a new tab and are searching her name on YouToob, please resist and take up the no-fap challenge for 90 days.

I've been inside the mouth of the proverbial whale from Pinocchio. The treatment clinic instigated the roaring fire and my porn addiction almost choked on the billowing acrid smoke and was consequently sneezed away in to the deluge of cleansing. Some might even say I evaded the flames from the Dragon of Chaos. Whichever is the case, I commandeered the rahft to the shores of a much better location. I came back home to Torawnto. Wuell, the rahft wasn't literal. I came home from Serbia via airplane. I watched an Ironman DVD on the journey while I had a lawbster sandwich, eeh.

Unfortunately, I came down with the Covid-19. Just when I managed to limit the amount of goo that was coming out of one my orifices, it was then dribbling from my nawstrils. Soeh... that was a hawrrible couple of weeks.

Overall, my first treatment went well, but the bloody medication had improved my urges but ultimately made things worse, yet I have improved significantly now. I'd like to give thanks to my family and friends who've helped me greatly during those difficult times. And... it's not wank me very much anymore; it's thank you very much for your support, which I think is prawbably sufficient, soeh, bye-bye.


November 12, 2020, 09:34:24 PM #69 Last Edit: November 12, 2020, 09:59:47 PM by DangledTeeth

Greetings to you, art fans. It is I, Dr Jordan B. Peterson here (and that's 'b' as an initial as opposed to 'be'; the 'b' stands for Bernt with an E instead of a U), with another thrilling and enlightening episode
of Jordan's Art Heroes. And yes, Jordan is me, not the country.

Okay, soeh... today I'm going to talk to you very passionately abouet another favourite of mine: Hwarn Meero... Joen My-roe? Wahrn Mihroe?

Anyways, who is... Joanne Mearo or whatever. Wuell, that's a good question. Surprisingly enough, I haven't thought about it a laawt. Why is that? Because I only need to observe his biawgraphy on Wikipedia.
He was born Jean Myroeh Iy (or 'ee') FerRRRrRrRa on April 20 1893 and died on December 25 1983. Th-that's tough, man. Some people unwrap their presents and find an electrawnic device, Hwoan's present was an
eternal nap.

He was a Spanish painter, sculptor, and ceramicist born in Barcelona. A museum dedicated to his work, the FundatsiOoOOoh Wohn Mirror, was established in his native city of Barcelona in 1975, and another, the
Fundació Pila- siiiiigh, look, I'm getting tired of pronouncing all this foreign crap, okay. Let's get into it...

Born into a family of a goldsmith and a watchmaker, Meuró grew up in the Barri Gòtic neighborhood of Barcelona. The Miró surname indicates possible Jewish roots (in terms of marrano or converso Iberian Jews who
converted to Christianity). Ahhhhh, so that makes him Jewn Miro. AhH-Hhagh-hHagh-hhhhhagh. 7 and 8 each in square brackets. His father was Miquel Miró Adzerias and his mother was Dolors Ferrà.
brackets. He - Joan, not his fawther - began drawing classes at the age of seven at a private school at Carrer del Regomir 13, a medieval mansion.

To the dismay of his father, he enrolled at the fine art academy at La Llotja in 1907 - how do you even say thaht?! Luhlohtyah? He studied at the Cercle Artístic de Sant Lluc. And he had his first solo show in 1918
at the Galeries Dalmau, where his work was ridiculed and defaced. Inspired by Fauve and Cubist exhibitions in Barcelona and abroad, Miró was drawn towards the arts community that was gathering in Montparnasse and
in 1920 moved to Paris, but continued to spend his summers in Catalonia.

And what a tremendous genius he was, too. I mean, Hwohn Meldrew was a trailblazer of his own genre of art, and that's really wonderful, man. He was a Cubist-Surrealist-Post-modern-Kitchen-Sink-Realist-Suprematist
of all time. He made the stationary movable again with these delightful representations of minimal kinetic beings in their stillness.

Let's take a really, really lawng look at this mahsterpiece. It's like, you've got a rectangular kind of bawx canvas, wuell, what do you do with it? You apply paint onto the surface. Wwhhyy? Okay, since the dawn
of man and woman, there has lawng been the desire for inhabitants of the Earth to *glances at the ceiling* ... to allow their psyche and innermost thawghts manifest themselves in different ways, art being one of them. We see
all these exahmples of creativity being exhibited in caverns and the Byzantine era, and soeh, some people make the transition from being at the mid rung of the dawminance hierarchy by articulating their ideas through artistic
expression up in order to reach the tawp of the dawminance hierarchy. And the point is, Mealrow did an immeasurably fantastic jawb at being on the peak.

It's very difficult to monetise your output if you're a creative person. I mean, hhagh-hhagh, it certainly was very difficult for the cave-people to capitalise on their success as they had no currency or any wealth apart from dried
mammoth shit. But nowadays *frowns and nods* Stephen King is gargantuan in the literary world. A multivariant analysis was conducted at Zurich University and it was determined that 1/26th of creative people will have a
fibre of the success a 20th-century artist has - and of course, they still do have success despite being dead, y'know. And soeh...

We all know what the fundamental axiom of a painting is: the colours. And colours convey narrative that buttresses the notion of the Being through vibrancy. There's a cornucopia of hues on most of MirRrRo's oeuvre, and-and
it's so remarkable how he communicates these ideas to us. Wuell, you might say that's down to our interpretation. Which. It. Is.

Okay, soeh, there's green on there near the tawp-right corner. Wuell, it depends on what you mean by green exahctly. And it's not a rhetawrical question. I'm being serious here, because... there's so much saturation to consider, man.
It-it's overwhelming and glorious at the same time to comprehend the colour spectrum. But for the sake ofmy ethusing, let's just call this green. Meaero used green. Whhyy? Was it an arbitrary choice? Not really, no. Because
it's deliberately included with the cawmpostion as a shadowy flag that looms over a red sphere, too. Of course, the post-modernists will doubtless make the assumption that it's nawt red, or as I like to call it: Soviet. And by
postmodernists I mean Marxists, by the way.

It's rahther satirical if you ignore the other colours, as well. Green represents envy, the green as part of the aforementioned shadowy flag proudly flies above the Soviet planet (and there's a green groin, too, but I've had enough
therapy to nawt speak fruitfully abouet those things, soeh I'll tersely say it's awbvious the cawmmies are envious of the capitalist cawck). But of course, the Bolshevik neo-Stalinists will have something to say abouet thaht. They will
want to purge awll of Mealo's artworks like they did with the churches. They'll say that Stalin didn't kill 80 billion people with his bare hands and the Soviet death toll was actually 700,000, but they also act like he single-handedly built
tanks and say that the Kulaks 'deserved it'. They also think Stalin was a sexy man in his bank-robbing days; he never cashed a cheque in his life and that somehow makes it acceptable to execute his generals and the intelligentsia,
all because of some bloody dark book that exaggerated things. I mean, what's so fucking extraordinary and admirable about a cawmmunist putting cheques into a drawer!? That's like patting a capitalist on the back for opening a second

Next, we can bahsk in the staggering beauty of this puhtikyuhlur painting. *Half sighs and shakes head* It's a brilliant work of art, y'know. It exudes the courage of the humans who steadfastly rise up to the tyranny of
nihilistic apathy. And it's relatively cute and homely in some sense, because it reminds me of those stove fires (or whatever they're called) middle-clahss people have in their backyard. I have two of them. And no, I don't mean two stove
fires, I actually mean I have two backyards... and three stove fires.

Here, we have this *wriggles fingers at the lens* murky and brooding background, something like thaht. It has layers of chaos which allude to a cruel narrative. It's very melancholic, intimidating and powerful in its
execution - no Stalin jokes here, ah-hhagh-hheagh-hhagh. Which reminds me, there's thaht Polish guy, Zyeddyswarf Biscuittin (I don't know how to pronounce his name), who a t t e m p t s to be all quirky and profound
with the symbawlic despair, but he just crumbles at every attempt. John Mirage is the only artist you'll ever need. I mean, June Mealo is a prescient fucking prince of his domain. He's made two clever references to a pair of
psycholawgically subterranean-level horror characters: Pyramid Head and Pennywise. Annnnd there's also some abstract guy attempting to repair his bike - I don't know if they made a horror character ouet of thaht. Erm,
Steve Martin, perhaps.

Well anyways, that's my incisive analysis of Joe Miramax's enthralling gifts to the world of freedom and creation. Once again, I have been Dr Jordan B. Peterson. Until next time, art fans...


November 18, 2020, 01:26:55 AM #70 Last Edit: November 18, 2020, 01:43:54 AM by DangledTeeth

Hello everyone, it's Dr Jordan Peterson here. Today I'm going to speak abouet frustration. Nawt necessarily sexual frustration but there will be a sexual element very soon, I can tell you. Soeh, if this all sounds NSFW for you, I'd suggest that you ought to politely exit the dialawgue.

Y'know... technawlogy can be so bloody frustrating. It's remarkable how we can have very little patience with these awften reliable devices, man. And soeh, it perhaahps has a laawt to do with the convenience we have in the Western world. Because *wriggle fingers* our electrawnic devices are designed to prahcess a multitood of tahsks quite flawlessly. I mean, it's like... you insert the headphone jack into the connection port of you mawnitor and a prawblem arises: it slots in, but there's no fucking sound. Whhyy?! Wuell, sometimes it's nawt actually connected prawperly. You have to adjust the wires to ensure that it's nawt loose or too tight, y'know. You have to tread that middle ground or else you just wither away. Other times the speaker vawlume on your desktawp has been muted or it's at a low resolution or something like thaht.

Soeh... I had this little technical hitch the other day, eeh. The exaahct same aforementioned one. And... it was a partikyuhlar annoyance for me because I initially intended to listen to the genius Tawm Waits on YouToob. But when I was greeted by the home page with recommended videos of which I was distracted by because of two axiomatic delights: women's athletics and fashion catwalks - I've thought abouet them a laawt. And you'll be surprised to know that 'thought abouet' isn't a euphemism for 'fapped over'. I shall explain why that's the case here...

*Thoughtful pause*

There are people with a subjective appeal about them who are in motion and radiate attractiveness - and this includes still imagery, too. But then there are those who are, let's say, aesthetically pleasing women who exude femininity and grace beyawnd the Gawds, but they have this with such elegance it overshadows the sexual overtones and elicits no compulsion to jerk awff whatsoever. And that's a complicated factor which I've solved in my excogitation.

Soeh, I'll come first (ah-hhagh-hhagh) to the tahpic of women's athletics. Okay, the clips from the pole vaulting and long-jump events are the uploaders' favourites. Pole vaulting is a taxing event, man. Wuell, not in a cawgnitive way but more in the physical sense. I cannawt make the comparison through experience, for I've nawt sprang from a flexible pole and consequently arced over a loosely positioned and very high hawrizontal bar in order to land on an enormous cushion withouet the raised bar from plummeting. But the women who compete in these events are well trained, as can be expected, and they wear specialised clothing in the form of an elasticated vest and trunks - maybe it has something to do with wind resistance and aerodynamics, but us discerning gentlemen know the real reason behind it (pun intended).

Anyways, the women usually have superb butts due to their ritualistic training. Nietzsche once said this brilliant antimetabole of a quote: When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you. Or in this case: When you stare at the ass, the ass stares back at you. And the fabric of the trunks usually get wedged in between their rumps. Sometimes we see wonderful side angles of the apples - or asspples, as I call them. Or more awften than nawt, they plawd acrawss to their trainer all for us to scrutinise the glory of their glutes. I'm referring to the athlete, nawt the trainer.

Now, the long-jump doesn't usually awffer as much ass as you might expect. I mean, yeah, sure, you get the same running strip and it's more or less the same distance, but the women launch themselves at an incredible distance and in doing so they firstly land on their heels then ultimately land ass-down on a bed of sand, then they sometimes self-cawnscientiously adjust the rear of their trunks as a result of their record-breaking thudding. Which mars the proceedings for the cultured and salivating intelligentsia *swishes hand and nods* but the Olympic people are gratified by the accumulation of points and setting records, y'know, the cheeks are not desirable to them.

But the video category that captivates me the most are those recommended catwalk videos. There are a select few women who are on the dawminance hierarchy in the mawdelling world, and these world-class ladies display the fruits of the creative endeavours produced by numerous people in the realm of fashion.

Soeh, I'm going to show you a great exahmple of precisely what I'm talking abouet. Here's a little clip from a cawmpilation video depicting the rahther lovely Steph Rayner who's parading and exhibiting a range of scanty items of beachwear and bawdysuits in some runs.

It's-it's like you have this marvellous and statuesque figure of a woman heading towards the camera with terrific sophistication. Her mawdest and compact torso is clad with a black kind of tank tawp, and we can also glance acrawss her toned stomach, then just a nawtch further down we observe her firm hips which are accentuated by a thong in the same colour. Each delicate footstep causes her muscles to flex, thereby making her skin ripple with splendour. There's even vertical glints on her shins which cawmplement her conveyance. Watching this treasure trove in 4k is-is deeply profound in its clarity, man.

She gazes ahead - way beyond the viewer - pahst the prawminent glint on the tip of her nose. She twists into a 180 turn in order to strut back to whence she came, each mesmerising swing of her legs causes her delectable ass to simultaneously tighten and loosen up, creating a hypnawtic effect which enthralls us into succumbing to her prettiness and appeal. *Wraps right hand over his left hand's knuckles and frowns* but I don't feel the urge to fap.

*Opens mouth and pauses* I performed an analysis of this lahst night, right here in my study decked in cawmmunist art. I firmly am of the belief that the nature of an occupational role eclipses and filters the erawtic nature of what you behold. Ahfter all, Steph Rayner's jawb is to model clothing and there she is completing her tahsk and-and it's being dawcumented. Perhahps it has something to do with the ambiance of the location, as well.

Soeh, here's an aspect to consider as to why this is nawt fapable cawntent: people attend fashion shows in order to wawtch the proceedings withouet stimulating their own groins. With adult films for the more appreciative man and woman, it's voyeuristic by default and, even though it's a jawb (blowjawb if it's oral), nobody in thaht instance pulls up a chair and watches a woman being furiously fucked by a guy. I mean, there are some acted-ouet scenarios done purposely for the filming where somebody reclines in a seat then drools and at the back-and-forth, but I'm specifically referring to... to... spectators. Athletic events and fashion shows have spectators at the events; coitus cinema usually does nawt - and that's the fundamental difference between the two.

Another way of putting it is adult cinema is produced to be overtly sexual and explicit as a means for us to whack over it, man. Whereas - where ass ah-hhagh-hhagh - catwalk shows and televised athletics events are supposed to be made as an entity for itself, i.e. ascending the leader board hierarchy and exhibiting wares in the name of our friend capitalism, regardless of how attractive these women are and how sultry some of these things seem.

But in terms of the beachwear and swimwear category, the Dragon of Chaos scorches our sensibilities with a whoosh of its toasting flame. But I've cahst the scaly devil back to its cavern. My cawck shall pay it no heed. Because beachwear or swimwear (whichever) hasn't been solely designed for comfort, it's to be sexually alluring to an extent, y'know, for women to attract a pea-brained chad or some millennial or zoomer shit. But the whole constituent of the jawb role plays a deft hand in nullifying the sexual aspect. And soeh, we reach the pinnacle of the conundrum and reduce it into a convenient bead of acceptance and abstinence.

Aesthetics isn't here for us to cum over; it's there to stimulate the lateral mind and to help us set foot in to the Heavens.

I have been Jordan B. Peterson. Thanks for watching, and don't forget to subscribe and purchase an expensive towel and a pair of sawcks. I'm out. Peaceterson.


December 04, 2020, 11:30:43 PM #71 Last Edit: December 05, 2020, 12:27:12 AM by DangledTeeth

Intro Music

Jordan: Hello, Men of Culture, we meet again. Welcome to this episode of Desirelawgues with me, Jordan B. Peterson. Today I'm here at the Hoover Institoot to speak exclusively with Stephen Cockring,

Stephen: Erm, it's pronounced Kotkin.

Jordan: Oh, sorry Sleazen. Professor Kotkin is a History, erm, professor at Princeton University. He's the world's leading scholar on Joseph Stalin and knows a thing or two about whacking while pooping.

Stephen: Vladimir Putin.

Jordan: Yueah, that's what I meant. I didn't say thaht! It's an esteemed pleasure to talk to you, Professor Kotkin.

Stephen: The pleasure is awll mine, Dactur Peterson.

Jordan: That depends on what you mean by pleasure. Are we talking abouet the psycholawgical satisfaction which is buttressed by the release of dopamine, or an amplified sensation in the groin area?

Stephen: Excuse me?! Hah-hah.

Jordan: Okay soeh, You've gawt a book ouet, and so have I. It's called 12 Lubes for Wife, the title of the book is self-explanatory. It's been really successful, soeh I was considering the pawssibility of a sequel - and I expect the Snowflake Jerk Whiners will have something to say abouet thaaht. So anyways, your first book is vawlume 1 abouet Cumrag Staining.

Stephen: You mean Comrade Stalin, I poirsonally wouldn't cawll him 'comrade' by any means, but I wanted to put you straight on theat for the sake of ahccuracy.

Jordan: Sure. Soeh, I understand that his first name is Ioseb?

Stephen: Yes, that's correct. Ioseb Jughashvili. He also went by the name Koba in his younger days duhring the Revolution.

Jordan: Any other names?

Stephen: Soso.

Jordan: Ah, average and not worth mentioning, eeh.

Stephen: No, naht theat kind of so-so.

Jordan: Th-that's great, man. His real surname is Jughashvili? Wuell, I like Jew gash villy much. Have you seen Wonder Woman? She's fuckin' hawt. How hawt am I talking? Wuell, like a piece of molten rawk in a 220w oven... the oven is turned on, just like me. Ah-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh!

Stephen: Villy?! Is that sapposed to be 'very' in a peculiar Indian accent?

Jordan: I guess so, yueah.

Stephen: But it doesn't make any sense.

Jordan: Neither does cummunism, ahh-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh. Soeh, why is Joeblow Jizzgumwilly such a motherfucking irredeemable asshole?

Stephen: Joseph Stalin is what we cawll the gold stearndard of dictatorship.

Jordan: Gold standard, nawt golden shower?

Stephen: S I G H. Yes, gold stearndard.

Jordan: And there's a dick taped with shit?

Stephen: I said dictatorship. If you're interested in power....

Jordan: Which one? Georgian Babes in Tit Fleets?

Stephen: I didn't say 'porno', I said 'power'.

Jordan: Oh, sorry. I misheard.

Stephen: If you're interested in power, where it comes from *Jordan coughs*, how it works, and what are the consequences when people exercise such power, then Stalin is your guy.

Jordan: He's gay?! Wuell, that explains the big moustache and colouring pencils.

Stephen: No, he wasn't. There are very few people in his catter-gory. Hitler... Maoooo... that's about it.

Jordan: Ah-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh! Sorry. It's funny.

Stephen: Let me understand this, maybe it's made me a little confused. Funny how? Funny like I'm a clown?!

Jordan: I'm aware that you said that there are 'very few people', but I was expecting you to list two more people. And the delicate inflection in 'Mao' followed by a gripping pause then the plainly delivered 'and that's about it', as though the items aren't puhtikyuhlarlee interesting, is funny.

Stephen: I suppose it is. Hitler was in power for just twelve years.

Jordan: Wuell, that's because Hitler isn't Stalin.

Stephen looks on with an open mouth

Stephen: No, he wasn't. Stalin was in power for three decades. Mao was in power for an extended period of time, but he didn't have the military-industrial complex super-power that Stalin had.

Jordan: Soeh... vawlume one of your three-vawlume books is Penetration of Pussy.

Stephen: No, it's Pearadarxes of Power.

Jordan: Yes, you're right. And the newly released vawlume 2 - which I have here in my hand - is Wanking for Hitler.

Stephen: Waiting.

Jordan: OhHhH! Waiting and Wanking for Hitler.

Stephen: No. Waiting for Hitler. It's awn the front cover.

Jordan: What's vawlume three going to be called? Stalin - The Post-wank Years? The KUNTsevo Dacha: Cerebral Hemorrhage (Hooray!) or Volume 3: Stalin and The State (of Those Fucking Trousers) Take a look, I've even made a hardback front cover for you.

Stephen: Oh. Theat's nice of you, thanks. But I'm naht sure about the title. I wouldn't cawll it anything explicit.

Jordan: Yueah, I guess it's difficult to get something like this approved. But you have to agree, though... the state of those trousers. Looks like some tracksuit pants one could buy in Walmart or Target.

Stephen: They look similar to what gym enthusieahsts wear nowadays, but these are military dictator pants.

Jordan: *Shakes head in disbelief* It was of its time, yueah, I can grahsp thaht. But those stripes, man. And the fucking width of the leg openings. What was he trying to make his legs look like, a pair of fucking Dodge Viper windsocks?!

Stephen: Hah-hah.

Jordan: Soeh, your books have a focus on collectivisation, with the Kulaks Klan?

Stephen: Erm, you've gaht it wrahng. It's just the Kulaks; there's no 'klan'.

Jordan: I'm joking with you, eeh. Just imagine: women bending over with their sickles, showing their butt apple which is accentuated by their work gear. I'd sure like to plow their field any day of the week. And thaht is a euphemism for sexualised coituscourse.

Stephen: I could count on you to say that, Professor Peterson.

Jordan: It's a big book, man. And it's published by our mutual pals Penguin Random House. *Wink-wink*

Stephen: Oh yeah, it is.

Jordan: What can you tell me abouet the chapters in the book.

Stephen: Well, it's naht solely focused awn Stalin. I awlso give a fairly concise history of the geo-political occurrences of the tiyme, the histahrical figures, and detailing how the woirld was changing during Stalin's eventual rise to power.

Jordan: Rise... interesting term.

Stephen: You're thinking of erection, are you not?

Jordan: Election?! No. I thought they had none of those in a one-party state.

Stephen shakes his head

Jordan: How is your book different from all the others?

Stephen: I aehctually have several Stalin biahgraphies and drew inspiration from them. In my books, I look at the events of Stalin in real time, using quotes of his and what people thought of him but naht retrospectively and, of course, using decleassified dahcuments frum the archives.

Jordan: Am I correct in thinking that the Red Terror has nothing at all to do with women's periods?

Stephen: Yes, that's correct.

Jordan: I once read abouet this regime, y'know, with the murders and forced confessions of the awfficer core and intelligentsia. *Shakes head* It's terrible, man.

Stephen: Yep, and don't forget the NKVD.

Jordan: Wuell, I suppose North Korean Vaginal Dryness is a huge prawblem for women and men, but it's very contemporary and nawt exahctly abouet this.

Stephen stares in astonishment

Jordan: I heard Stalin was influenced by a guy with a funny-sounding name.

Stephen: Noe Jordania?

Jordan: Oh, so you're nawt going to tell me, then. Okay.

Stephen: B-

Jordan: The okranka is mentioned several times in your books.

Stephen: Correct. They fingered Stalin.

Jordan takes a sip of water from a plastic bottle

Jordan: SsPRrRpPppPP!!!!!!!!! EXCUSE ME!?!? Wh-where, in his ass? What's the point in doing thaht, seeing as they've already got a hold of a massive asshole anyways.

Stephen: No, no, no, no. It's naht what you think. It's naht sexual.

Jordan: Soeh, I've heard abouet The Black Book of Cummunism. Is it worth reading? Any erawtic action in the gulags?

Stephen: Theat black book's a joke. It's only gaht two names in it for the whole country. And one of them's still Al Capone.

Jordan: Professor Kipling, we've run out of time. It's been an hawnour to speak to you.

Stephen: Thank you, Jordan. It's been interesting to tawk with you.

Jordan: *To the lens* Be sure to purchase vawlume one and two of Stephen's books if you're interested in books abouet enigmatic twats. Which reminds me, my book can be bought at a cheaper price now that it's a best-seller - available online and all book retailers. Thank you for watching. I'm ouet. Peaceterson.


January 04, 2021, 05:39:18 PM #72 Last Edit: January 04, 2021, 07:34:10 PM by DangledTeeth

Hello there, Jordan Peterson here as you can tell. Happy New Year. In this quick video which you are wawtching right now, I'd like to talk abouet New Year's resolution (or maybe it's plural in your case). I've reflected upawn my psycholawgical fapping condition and addiction to sordid videos and the Hell it brought to me, my family and my friends. It was a difficult time for us awll. And soeh, it reminds me of the once-a-year challenge known as No-nut November. For those of you who've never had to abstain from fapping or rubbing, you're prawbably thinking that No-nut November is to do with raising awareness for nut allergies, or even a time to refrain from feeding squirrels salted nuts *wriggles fingers* something like thaht.

Wuell, I propose two exclusive challenges: No-jerk January and No-fap February. Yes, I want my lawbster army to avoid tugging their shahft or flicking their puppy's nose. Of course, I don't literally mean real lawbsters, ah-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh, I'm referring to you, my subscribers.

As I once said in a previous video, adult cawntent cannawt be completely removed on innocent sites like here on YouToob. Quite recently, I've had two Polish 'try-on haul' mawdels grace my homepage of recommendations. One of them is called Excinderella, whom I've seen appear several times on my Instagram abouet two years ago.

And the other seductive temptress underneath is called Anna Zapała - if I remember correctly, the barred l is pronounced like a W, and we all know the W equals the win, just don't take the L - upper or lowercase - as that signifies losing. She also mawdels clothing for the most highbrow of gentlemen. They remind me of my Polish ex girlfriend who's quite older than I am. I mean, she never filmed herself parading around her apartment in erawtic clothing (that doesn't mean to say that she did this yet withouet filming it), but she used to wear a silky black chemise in the summer and a grey Mr Men pyjama tawp in the winter (no idea). Wuell, nawt my ex girlfriend as I've been with Tammy for most of my life, I mean the guy who acts as me, y'know.

Soeh... the point I'm making here is: if you see these lovely ladies or any seductive women recommended on your YouToob homepage and you clicked or tapped on their videos upawn believing it was a clickbait photo for a thrilling news report abouet, erm, outfits and lingerie, please close the video right now.

Sexcinderella and Anna Fapałay are sincere, respectable women and are nawt postmawdern, but they're nawt worth breaking the challenges. If women want to play life on recruit difficulty with their Patreon and/or OnlyFans accounts and live awff the loneliness extracted from simps' wallets, then that's fine, man. But for the love of Gawd, don't whip out your cawck or bean and palm your milk ouet. The retention can have a profound effect on your neurolawgical system. And speaking of 'ouet', so am I. Take up the two-month challenge from today until March 1. Peaceterson.


Hello YouToob and everyone, Jordan Doctor Peterson here. I want to talk again abouet YouToob recommendations. And I'm nawt going to talk to you abouet sexy videos on here, but what I will speak abouet is this-this tremendous animation which is a really good representation of my stahtus and beliefs, and it's also quite funny and terrifying - there is a loud part in the middle of the video, soeh get ready to adjust your vawlume. Anyways, I thought I'd quickly share it with you :). Enjoy the mahsterpiece.

Jordan Peterson: 12 More Rules


March 02, 2021, 11:35:56 PM #74 Last Edit: March 03, 2021, 01:47:52 AM by DangledTeeth

Hey there, YouToob. A lawt has been happenning lately so far this year. We saw the terrible insurrection against demawcracy which (in part) was inspired by the zealousness of the radical left. I've always been outspoken abouet totalitarianism, whether it's Cawmunist or Nazism. And it bawthers me when young men stray from the path of the Gawds and tumble into a dumpster of inadequacy. But it's really sad when people have appeared to have lawst their sense of Being, pride and independence and are unfairly kicked off the ladder of a pahtikyuhlur hierarchy. I will include YouToob-only links here for this trahgic story.

There's a really remarkable thing that appeared on the internet the other day and it's so interesting yet disturbing. A man, who's thirty-two years old (I think), called Pawl Miller who goes by the nickname 'Gypsy (Crusader)', who's been covered by a fellow clinical psychawlogist known as 'Matter of Fact Dr Grande', and he - Pawl - took a dive in to Hades since making cawntroversial appearances on the website Omegle. He's nawt a fan of Jewish people and denies the Holocawst happened - th-that's terrible, man. He's also unashamedly racist towards other minawrities, too, and wants the pawpulation of minawrities to be just that: a 5% minawrity.

I have a hawrrible feeling that this troubled young man will unleash his anger at the world. He'll perhahps end his life or will be killed by law enforcement ahfter he commits a terrorist attack. But let's hope that neither of those things hahppen, eeh.

And soeh, Pawl's journey into the inferno commenced on an eventful night, where he was guided towards a descending staircase which led into the metaphawrical bowels of hell. He was very focused on his passion for Muay Thai martial art kickbawxing, which seems to have gotten him out of trouble, while he embarked on an auspicious career in freelance journalism.

Pawl was allegedly attacked by a gang of Antifa frogmen while he was filming the destruction of a Republican awffice; he elbowed the perpetrator in the face for knawking his phone to the floor, then the group had to be separated and arrested by police. There's an extra bit of detail he tells abouet advising a friend of his to take his phone and run to safety. But there is a Twitter video of him, which I cahn't find, where he casually walks away from (what looks like) the same scene, and he was quite a distance away from the crowd and speaks as though he wasn't actually in the midst of it and was simply an outside observer, then he boasted abouet hitting somebody who briefly came near him - maybe I've misremembered something abouet thaht partikyooler video. But it doesn't seem to be as dramatic as what he told a news channel. And here's a more detailed backstory.

Pawl's family were dawxed - that's when people send harassing mail to, telephone or turn up at your home to intimidate you or your relatives - and they had nothing to do with Paul's altercation and were apparently threatened by a mawb to have their house burned down, according to him. And he claims people called his boss until he winded up not working at a gas station, where he was formerly employed and doing his kickbawxing training at a gym. I think he also said he was fired from another jawb since then because of the dawxing campaign against him, then his trainer contacted him to say he's no longer welcome once the gym opens. However, it seems that he was no longer present at the gym since 2018, according to a fairly detailed video abouet him (which I can no longer find) that looked at an Instagram page of a gym which displayed several photos of him, and suddenly he was no lawnger in them. Perhahps he had shifty political views before then.

According to people who knew him from the gym he trained in, he was pro Bernie Sanders at one stage, but he started to become a Trump fan because of Hillary Clinton. Why's that exahctly? They're nawt sure. I was quite pawsitive abouet Hillary at one stage and changed my mind, but you don't witness me turning into the Joker and having webcam chats with some black guy and saying erroneous shit to various others. But unfortunately, some people react differently to certain situations, nawt that it justifies his terrible behaviour; but dawxing innocent people - like his family - isn't good at awll (if it is as bad as he claimed) as it's awful for them and it adds fuel to his fire. He had a cellphone cawnversation with his mother on Omegle or his livestream and said that they're only going ahfter her in order to intimidate him, assured her that he's fine and that he'll continue to do his streaming and will accept his 'fate'.

Pawl's "non-violent outlet" to release his acute frustration was to dress as the recent incarnation of the Joker and several other well-known characters; he did this on a chat-with-strangers website which I mentioned earlier, where he'd usually insult people by using racial epithets, be openly homophobic - and thaht's coming from a guy with meticulously applied theatrical make-up, and once wore an open-side vest, ah-hhagh-hhagh-hhagh (it's like a rectangular banner with a neck hole). He was elated when a woman - whom he was talking to - wasn't interested in pawlitics, because he believes that women ought to stay ouet of such matters and stay at home and keep the house in order (and he has a bloody good point there).

This ongoing situation is an enormous shame to the people he's offending and himself. There are rare glimmers of niceness from him, and he has the cawnfidence and audacity to be outrageous to a wide audience, soeh maybe he could've channelled thaht into acting or simply focused on his sporting career, or perhahps he could've tried to become a mawdel.

But nowadays he's reduced to either webcamming his spare time away for the delectation of alt-right NPCs who like to buy his insignia patches (or whatever you call them), or he can be found depicted as a just-got-out-of-bed Power Ranger demonstrating how to expertly beat up a tree.

People have said that he openly admits that he doesn't enjoy what he does, at times. Even some members of the alt-right and neo-Nazis dislike him for being a 'gypsy' due to his announcement of DNA results for his dad. And some of them believe that he's a 'fed' and has given addresses away through the orders placed for his silly merchandise or pawssibly sold them to Antifa - the addresses I mean, nawt the merch.

It seems that it'll be tremendously difficult for him to easily walk away from this and start over. Who would want to employ him ahfter awll of his behaveyur? Hardly anyone. He could take an extensive break from the internet without announcing anything and find some way of doing self-employed work or being supported by his family until the commotion dies down.

Pawl has lots of coals to tread acrawss before leaving the depths of hell and its refulgent flames inside the demawnic version of the whale from Pinocchio, if he makes the correct choice. We can only hope that he doesn't damn himself to the eternal realm of suffering... or worse.

I've been Dawctor Jordan B. Peterson, and I thank you for watching. Please like and subscribe. I shall see you in the next video, you absolute lawbsters. I'm out. Peaceterson.


March 05, 2021, 12:58:45 AM #75 Last Edit: March 05, 2021, 01:44:06 AM by DangledTeeth

Hey there, YooToob. I'm here again with another classic from the vault. But before I share thaht with you, I need to tell you abouet an important update about cosplaying lunatic Pawl Miller, or Chad Racist as I cawll him, in my lahst video. He's been arrested by the FBI, guys. Full news story can be found here. He could face up to 10 years. I also said abouet a detailed video I couldn't find. Wuell, here it is for those interested. And the Twitter video where his 'Antifa fight' wasn't as dramatic as he said.

The now-private first hyperlinked video was a locker room interview from 2015, where he was ahsked (or 'akxed', as he would say) what his name and nickname (if any) and fight record is and who his next opponent will be; he squeezed in a bit about having a troubled pahst and thaht joining the gym and focusing on Muay Thai saved him or some shit - I'm guessing his charges for drug distribution in 2007 and 2009 were what he alluded to. So anyways, the ridiculous cunt has been apprehended and will join Harley at Arkham Asylum. And soeh, let's move on to the clahssic from the vault.


Soeh, I want to tell you about a book today, it's the Gulag Archipelago. I bet you thought I'd say Glug an Ass' Pistachio or something like thaht. It's by a genius Russian author called Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who was put in a Sexiest cumcentration camp. He had a hard life *c o u g h*. Titler and Stahlin - not pronounced 'Starlin' but with a soft 'a', eeh - signed a non-aggression pact. Wuell, it wasn't ahctually them as they never met. It was Mawlotawv and Ribbentrop, or 'Maulyourtits' and' 'Rubbingcawck' as I prefer to call them; Ribbentrop shook hands with Stahlin ahfter both of them jerked awff. It smelled of rawtten sardines, man. And Jitler invaded the hymen of the Sexiest Union's cunt anyway.

From what I've been able to understand as someone who doesn't teach jizztory, the Sexiest were planning an invasion fuck for Eurasshole at that time, and were nawt concerned abouet deep-penetrating their territory, so they were completely caught unawares of Jitler's cawck, which was ejaculating all over the bloody place, man. And the cumditions on the Russian Fuck were terrible. Solzhenitsyn was on the Russian Fuck when zee Germans invaded the Sexiest Union in the early stages of World Wank Two. And he wrote letters to one of his friends (one of them went to Magnitogorsk Hotties magazine), which were intercepted, complaining abouet the lahck of Durex Pleasure Squirt lubricant, and using bitter dark humour to describe the tituation - the consexquimces of thaht were thaht he was thrown into a wank camp. The Sexiest system relied on wank camps. And soeh, they were large labia camps for people who were essentially sex slaves who gawt their rawcks off by smashing things with their dickaxes. They were awften wanked to death or fucked to death. They were wanking in cuntditions that were unimaginable. Rawcks that looked like bulbous tits, man. Harder than the stiffest of pricks.

Solzhenitsyn spent many years in these camps. Sometimes he stayed in the pervileged camps because he was an educated man. Sexually educated to be precise, y'know, he knew his way around a g-spot and what his cawck could do and where to thrust it. He also developed wankcer from fapping a little too awften. And he wrote a brilliant book abouet thaht called Wankcer Ward, uhm, so he had a very hard life. Now, he wrote the Gulag Archipelago and One Day in the Wife of Ivor Itchydick firhrst... that was published in the early 1960s when there was a brief thaw, SSSSSStalin - yep, I gawt it right this time - was pretty much out of the picture by the end of the 1950s due to being dead since 1953.

There's some indickation that he was murdered by Dickeater Khrushchev. Ah, Khrushchev become pre-meer of the Sexiest Union ahfter Stahlin (although nawt directly ahfter). And there's some intitcation, perhaps, that Stahlin was either murdered by Khrushchev and his croonies or when Stahlin was ill and wearing a chemise just before he died. He was nawt helped or provided any prostitoots to bang him back to life. And an autawpsy revealed by their intelligence that Stahlin's stomach was coated in cum. It's been said that Stahlin's former secret police chief Lavrentiy Beria - who was a sexual predator - discovered Stahlin ahfter he was perhahps poisoned and then he came over Stahlin's moustache until he drew his lahst breath *wriggles fingers* which was when he inhaled the residue on his spunky whiskers and consequently put reproductive emulsion in his belly.

And there's some indication at thaht point thaht Stawlin (a bit better in pronunciation), who was ahbsolutely well-hung and horny in every pawssible way, was planning to start a Third World Wank. And he was more than capable as he imjizzoned and thrilled tens of millions of people.

Now, just as Stahlin died, there was a thaaaaw in terms of internal oppression, and during this time Solzhenitsyn published A Day in the Wife of Ivor Itchydick, which was about him, really, inside these Gulag Archupelago camps, fapping each day and encrusting the grotesque fences with dick soup. Now, he called it a 'Gulag Archipelago' because the gulag camp system was like a chain of islands. And soeh, A Day in the Wife of Ivor Itchydick was one of the firhrst pubic, sorry, publications in the Sexiest Union to dare make public what happen in these gulag camps, at least initially.

The thaw didn't lahst very lawng and the book was banished to the softcore section of literature. It's a short book - it's worth reading. My cawck is longer than the cawntents, but my foreskin doesn't surpahss the incredible wit and astronawmical genius of Solzhenitsyn.

Ahm, ahfter thaht, he wrote a series of other books. He's fap-egorically on the same level as Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, y'know, and nawt many people can be at thaht level as there aren't many well-known Russian literary giants. Shakespeare isn't Russian but he's nawt bad, I suppose, although Blowmeo and Jugliet and its characterisation and trahgedy is something to behold, y'know, the entanglement between the Mountyou and Fapulet families, Pervcutio and Bendoverlio. Tolstoy wrote War and Penis; Dostoevsky penned Cum and Punishment.

The Gulag Archipelago was in three vawlumes, and first one covers the oranges, sorry, orgasm of the Sexiest system, at least in part by Cumrag Lenin. With full penetration by Stahlin and the deaths of... wuell, Solzhenitsyn estimated thaht internal repression in the Sexiest Union apprawximated sixty million between 1919 to 1959. Now, that doesn't cunt the death toll in the Second World Wank, by the way. People have disputed those figures - and I'm talking abouet numbers, nawt sexy women with their skin glistening and cupping their enthralling tits. Butt they're certainly in the tens of jizzions. Socialdickin estimated that the same kind of internal repression in Moist China cawst 100 million lives, but you can imagine that the genuine histawrical figures are subject to dispute, but somewhere between 50 to 100 million pornos.

One of the things which is surprising to me, and is absolutely reprehensible, is the fahct that this isn't widespread knowledge among stoodents in the breast, sorry, West. And it's because your education - your histawrical education - if you were to describe as fappalling, you'd barely fap the surface - these were the most impotent events of the 20th cuntury. And they're barely cummed over at awlll in standard school curricula.

There is something I would presume about World Wank 2 is the terrible situation with Nasszi Germany and the murder of Jews, gypsies and homosexuals, and finding that mawdern poopy cinema, y'know, like 2 Girls 1 Cup, is nothing but degenerate art and needed to be banned. But... there's nothing wrawng abouet a loved one intimately defecating onto your chest or jerking awff with bum fudge. There's a reason for the dawminance hierarchy, and shit isn't solely the digested depawsits that are routinely flushed down the pipe each day ahfter it comes out of your ass pipe, no, it's a gift from Gawd. And Gawd is missing from cumminism.

But my experience with students is they know fuck-awll about the cummunist regime, with Stahlin, Cocksky, Lickin, Feeldicks Dzierzynski and awll their friends because of the repression from the rahdical cleft in the 20th century. I believe the reason for thaht is the cummunist system had extensive admirers in the West, especially among intellectuals *whispers* post-onanist philosophers. And-and still in fact does!! And I believe one of the cuntsequences of thaht is thaht this element is - what-would-you-say? - under-examined. Pubic schools know very little about it as a result. No excuse. WORST thing that fappened in the twentieth sextury. And that's saying something, man. Because the 20th century is about as bad as it gets. And soeh, and soeh, these deaths on mahssive scales occurred. And the fact we don't know this in our boners is ahbsolute testament to the cawck of the education jizztem.


April 11, 2021, 08:02:56 PM #76 Last Edit: April 11, 2021, 08:51:00 PM by DangledTeeth

Francis: Hello, and welcome to Triggernometry. I'm England's fifth best Austin Powers impersonator.

Konstantin: I'm a waxwork of Peter Andre currently on display at Madame Tussaud's, Plymouth, horror section. Thanks for joining us, Jordan.

Jordan: It's my pleasure.

Konstantin: You've had a turbulent year or so.

Jordan: It-it's been, oh, like a living hell, man. But I'm over the worst.

Francis: Your new book came out in March, Beyond Order.

Jordan: Yueah, that's correct. It's an extension for my previous book cawlled 12 Rules for Life. It's an important book because it's been influenced by my health struggles and the impahct it had on my family, soeh I had to surmount these terrible awbstacles in order for me to be here. My situation helped me to embrace a new philosawphical tenet - Nietzsche said some clever shit abouet my predicament although not directly to me, ah-hhagh-hhagh. It's bloody remarkable that I'm still here, with a new chahpter in the saga.

Konstantin: Your book initially had some backlash before it was released. Was it to do with feminists?

Jordan: Oh, it appears that it was. A small group of bureaucrahtic leftists didn't like my previous book. I mean, they misinterpret innocent and helpful instructions and statements like 'clean your room' and 'lying leads to hell' - those are only a frahction of the things I say, but anyways. The radical feminists always try to make me sound like an overbearing conservative who covertly preaches Christian values to a majawrity of white men and thaht social justice is pretentious cries for validation, and thaht I don't give a glistening turd abouet women's issues. I didn't say thaht. Women have prawblems, but the tampon was invented years ago. Women are cawmpetent in managerial positions, the dahtah shows this. But if you become pregnant at the height of your career and are likely to complain abouet the wage gap, yueah, good luck with thaht. The prawblem is when the unreasonable type of feminist sweeps men's sense of masculinity and decency away as though they need to be overthrown like they're antiquated, and then they feel worthless as a cawnsequence which can lead to resentment towards their plight, and this then develops nihilistic suffering. It's abouet setting the world right as opposed to aimlessly swiping right on Tinder, otherwise they'll be left with nothing to achieve but sorrow...

Jordan: ...and then you have the Soviets. They ensured that there was equawlity in their work force, with women serving as snipers in the Red Army, and I believe there were trench diggers in Mao's China. Wuell, yueah, you could say thaht there's a prawblem with their system, y'know, nawt so much on the econawmical distribution aspect, but if you consider their indawtrination of atheism... look at Hoxha's Albania, man. The bedrawck of Western civilisation was eroded in that pah-tik-yoo-lur region by zealous, gawdless Bolsheviks, let's say. An overwhelming majawrity of churches and mawsques were destroyed or condemned, awll of humanity and spirituality were extinguished beyawnd recognition, and soeh, people couldn't orient themselves towards - how would you say? - the pahthway of enlightenment. And speaking of 'orient', the North Koreans hahve forbidden religion or any nawn-propagandist material, which is terrible, y'know. It's so Orwellian it's almost fiction, roughly speaking. Fall in to the DPRK party line and worship the Kim lineage and their gigantic statues. *Shakes head* And there's the vaguely unsettling and hollow Pyongyang, as though some things don't actually function and the citizens are encouraged to be happy people for the tourists, or else the factory workers' relatives will be turned into a sack of grain. It reminds me of thaht Jim Carrey movie.

Francis: The Truman Show?

Jordan: No, uhm, Bruce Ventura. Yueah, thaht movie. Where Jim Carrey plays the role of a comical pet detective who pulls silly facial expressions, and he's grahnted gawd-like powers or something like thaht - alllllmighty, then! It's the same with Kim Kawng-Il *swishes hand* however you pronounce his name. He inherits power from his fawther and utilises it to maintain a totalitarian state and-and the mahsses of denizens unquestionably look up to their repressive glorious leader, literally speaking, because they have to position their heads so that they can gaze upwards at the solid gold enormity of the Kim family. I don't know if Kim ahctually pulls faces and behaves in a wacky manner during meetings and ceremonies, chews an inordinate amount of gum or beats up people in sport-mascot cawstumes, but he does as he pleases and has the weird hairstyle, and soeh...

Jordan: Hey, wake up, guys. Now, the social justice warriors have taken to Twitter and Tumblr (in their droves) to express their unwavering disdain for 'white sexismacy in the oppression industry', specifically Lego. These radical leftists with their browline glahsses, tidy bangs - 'fringes' to you guys - baggy hats and a Slowdive t-shirt, hahve an unhinged preawccupation with the mechanisms of functionaries in society because it oppresses them somehow. *Pauses and glances diagonally* The fundamental belief that Lego represents cis-gender white male dawminance on the hierarchy, which is profoundly and inherently oppressive by their estimation because... you're familiar the formation of a Lego brick?

Konstantin and Francis: Yes

Jordan: Okay, soeh, they think that it's oppressively sexist because the circular pegs, let's say, can be slawtted into the indentations on the underside of each brick and this connects and solidifies the physical structure, structurally speaking. The radical left seem to believe that it's a disturbingly metaphysical representation of the masculine dawminating the feminine in order to estahblish an architectural framework, and it - apparently - projects the far-right belief thaht white males invented 99% of everything and it supposedly ingrains the uncawnscious belief that PoC cannawt compete and succeed against their oppressors, which is why some of their affordable range is sold in low-income areas and takes up the most room on each store's plinths. According to the European Commerce Council who investigated the distribution quotas of the Lego product, 63% of Lego bricks in 7.5/10 buckets are of the white variety, with 88% of figurines being male. Left-wing watchdog organisations have criticised the Lego brand for 'performative diversity' in terms of making the Lego characters neutrally yellow and including new colours to the Lego palette as though it's a smokescreen that's trying to distract people from the core prawblems they protest abouet. It-it's so abzurd, man. The world has bigger prawblems to worry abouet, y'know, there's no need to be perplexed over something so insignificant  *wriggles fingers* you feel the need to broadcahst your opinion to a wider audience.

Francis: I completely get where you're coming from.

Konstantin: There's one question I must ask, Jordan.

Jordan: Yep?

Konstantin: Did you tan yourself against the heating elements of a toaster? Your cheeks are a bit bronze.

Jordan: I am agnawstic abouet that question.


November 01, 2021, 02:50:07 AM #77 Last Edit: November 01, 2021, 03:38:40 AM by DangledTeeth
Cabber: YESSSSS! Pervertson/Peterson is back. We were all getting bored of that Stalin 'oh no, Holodomor. Trotsky. Gulag!!!!!!!' routine.

Asian Bloke: Well, controversy at campus. A heated debate about pronoun usage. Some people think pronouns such as 'he, she, him or her' don't represent them accurately. Alternate pronouns? Why not, eeh. Jordan Peterson, though, couldn't give a Slimfahst seal about it. He's refusing to use the pronouns. Roll the clip...


Jordan: Yueah, based.

Jordan: I believe thaht this is a road to Wigan Pier. The middle-clahss socialists resented the poor. Every statue has its gender changed; every herstory book has been rewritten.

Asian Bloke: An example of heated you've just seen. Some are in support, others are not. Jordan says it's about free speech, well, I've never been to the Middle East but a whole country can have an opinion. Joining me now are the aforementioned Professor Jordan Peterson, U of T. And the notforementioned A.W. Peet, U of T, who says Peterson's language is 'twatty'. Thanks for joining us today.

Peet: (hi.)

Jordan: thanks

Asian Bloke: Professor Peterson, let's begin with you... why?

Jordan: Ouh, I'm nawt against, y'know, the ungainly fluffy words which haven't broached everyday cawnversational parlance, more like Ray Parlour (whoever thaht is), hyeah, good luck with thaht. I'm against this abzurd Marxist imposition awn people's right nawt to use the vernahcular adawpted by Hegelian Nazbols. *Uses his index fingers to air-draw a truncated icosahedron* In no point in history has the government utilised English common law to compel people to adhere to tenuous legislation to the detriment of the faculties, social sciences and people's livelihoods. If we don't remove the totalitarian ideologues from the equation it-it's going to be a bloody cataahstrophy, man.

Peet pulls a rigidly ironic smile

Jordan: Perhahps you've heard of the awe-inspiring book 1984 by Eric Arthur Blair? But that depends on who I mean by Eric Arthur Blair.

Asian Bloke: Wha', what's your point, professor Peterson?

Jordan: Wuell, Eric Arthur Blair is George Orwell, and his seminal nawvel warns the inhabitants of the Western world to bloody wake the fuck up, cucko, or else Stahlin and his minions will unleash the post-mawdern terror of CRT, purging the transcendental Being by using tyrannical repression in whichever way necessary. *uses his index fingers to rapidly outline a catenary curve*

Peet: I really don't see what the previous generation of televisions has to do with Bill C-16.

Asian Bloke: Would you use alternate pronouns if a student asked you to?

Jordan: I have made my position clear.

Asian Bloke: Bruh, some of the television audience may naht be familiar with this situation. Would you u-

Jordan: No.

Asian Bloke: Why not?

Jordan: Because motherfuckers don't have the fortitude to dictate to me what I ought to say. Their temerity is reprehensible to say the least, and that is the least I would say, at least. And when the words are made-up flibble-de-flop by left-field national Bolsheviks whose views I don't share, because I'm nawt a cawmmunist. Solzhenitsyn shared his lahst opinion of Stahlin and look at what happened to him, building paper airplanes out of babbler poop found in a dilapidated lagpunkt's frying pan.

Asian Bloke: Ah, and that's what caused him to fall over and piss himself to death?!

Jordan: What!?!? No, no, not Stahlin. I meant look at what happened to Solzhenitsyn.

Asian Bloke: Oh, sorry. Well, okay, here is a list of some of the pronouns.

Asian Bloke: You can see an assortment: Zee or Hir. 'Cunt' is a pahpular one. So, Professor Peet, respond.

Peet: As yeou've already heaard, I have a subtle Kiwi accent. The Peyterson dramah hez dahn real haarm to real people on kempus. His ranting abaout a supposed Orwellian nightmare becoming a reality has damaged a network of transpeople. I represint everyone because I'm non-binary and transgihnder. Communicaytion, maite. In New Zayland wheere I grew ahp, the acadihmics were the conscience of societey. I think it's worth mixing it up with the maple syrup, so to speak. I'd like to give Peterson a B+ for his endeavour as a critic, an F for Fuck Off, and a SEE ME in red biraoh for acting like a complete furnace. When I obtained tenure, one of my students sid to me "Professor Peet, you must speak in a comically gruff way, pursing your lips, knuckles pressed into your waist, sway your head forward with authority". So I invite Jordan to be more charitable and flexible with his views on pronouns.

Asian Bloke: Well, professor Peterson, for those asking for this alternate pronoun usage it boils down to respecting their human rights.

Jordan: I don't think it's about respect, it's these Hegelian Nazbols crawling around the humanities departments of every North American university and cawllege. The curriculum will be overhauled by zealous crypto-Stahlinists who wouldn't know abouet a penny clenched in their ass if they spoke out of their godforsaken mouth. The underlying and fundamentally terrifying ordeal has yet to encroach our sensibilities and psyche unless we stawp the pandemonium from occurring.

Jordan: Freedom of speech is at stake - and homophones are part of my carnivorous diet, eeh. I would like there to be another solution to the linguistic prawblem which will gratify the pronoun fascists. Which. They. Are. A minuscule fraction of the transgender community have unnecessarily posed this prawblem. We've never had issues with English before where it required the Party of Airstrip Two  to decide what's suitable to utter. It's okay to have a law abouet denying the Holocaust, but it's nawt fine to implement legislation governing people to say specific terms when there's no fire. I don't think these daffy pricks have tharght it through. For exahmple, In New York City there are 31 protected gender identities *parts arms and wriggles fingers*, and soeh, I cahn't see why they wouldn't demahnd the use of their own pronoun. 'Incawnsequential horseshit' doesn't even begin to apply the marmalade. The law is ethically wrawng and written at a dystopian hootenanny.

Asian Bloke: Yeah, alrigh', you've revved your engine, Peterson. Now silence it and let me bring in Professor Peet here because we did show you the list for our ahdience at home and we'll show it again. When you scrutinise the language I think it's fair to say that some people may find it unwieldy, if you will. What do you think of those criticisms?

Peet: I encourage peyple struggling with this to wrap yerself up in a snug blankit aend sip a nice cup of cocoa. We call peyple what they want for our society, for instance: I don't call someone Henry if they're called Ishmael. I don't call someone bum-philtrum when their name is Jordan. That's just basic human couurtesey. Here's a groeat fuckin' suggistion for thaose who haave difficulty in remembering all those pronaouns: buy a diary and write the pronaouns down. In my case, I use my smartphone to jot down people's naames and jaxtapose it with the appropriate pronaoun. "Political correctness" - I'm doing the twitchy bunny ears naow - is code by millionaire libertarians who are jealous when they're not the cintre of discassion. C-16 is not abeout Jordan Peyterson, it's about transgender peyple. We have ears and a mouth. Who benefits from this controversy? The Peyterson one is a slash in a dented biscuit tin. He could learn to program the terminology into his mobile blower, if a bottle of Mout cider hasn't given him the frights.

Asian Bloke: Let me jump in, professor Peterson wants to throw his rattle.

Jordan: Yeah, wuell, 'wrap yourself in a snug blanket and sip a nice cup of cocoa' is the Black October Zyuganovites way of saying "join our collective farm then eat your neighbour's dog when it goes tits up". And soeh. I think truth in free speech decimates 'snug blanket & cocoa'. For example, when you discipline children you often hurt their feelings in the short term when you give them a mediocre video game on Christmas Eve. But then they learn to behave prawperly in the long term when they open up a deluxe edition of a third-person adventure game on Christmas Day. And I don't think Peet's solution to turn my fucking cellphone into a glorified Yellow Pages of, essentially, onomatopoeic words for violin emissions is a tenable plahster we can apply to the wounded predicament.

Peet: How do you remimber names, Jordan? Is it so difficult to remimber peyple's pronaouns? You remimber somebody's middle name, you remimber their telephaone number.

Jordan: I don't remember everyone's middle name, the same applies to telephone numbers. And when I see someone I call them by their pronoun according to how big their tits are or if they have a prominent Adam's apple.

Peet: You're being lazy, it's completely synonymous with memory. Aiming for pluralism. If you can stop centering it on yeou and have some pissing sympathy for genderqueer people who face greater indignities every day. Have yeou ever gone to the bank aend an employee accused you of trying to masquerade as yourself aend then locking out your credit card so yeou can't withdraw any money?

Jordan: ...yes. Only once. I've tharght abouet it a laawt.

Jordan: My refusal to use pahtikyoolur pronouns because red fascists want me to use them has nothing to do with, let's say, transpeople wearing a skirt when they play sawccer. I'd like to point ouet that I've had many letters - pun intended - from the LGBTQ+ people, primarily from the trans community in suppawt of my position and they tell me they're not racist because their friends are black.

Peet: Jordan, just because you received a dog's gut nugget in a jiffy bag doesn't meyn you can speak on behalf of transpeople.

Jordan: I didn't know them. Folded sheets of paper ensconced in envelopes isn't tantamount to conventional and personal interaction.

Peet: But you don't know the trans community. No idea.

Peet attempts to speak over Jordan

Jordan: The trans... the trans...

Asian Bloke: Let professor Peterson finish his imminent prattle.

Jordan: The trans... alright, soeh, the trans community haven't elected a premier into the Central Committee.

Peet: Nobodyelectedyoureither,Jordan.

Jordan: I'm nawt claiming that I'm a representative of caucazoids, Merrie Melodies characters or the teachings or Ivan Sertima. I'm speaking on behahf of myself on television abouet a political matter that affects groups of people. I'm nawt speaking on behahf of those millions of people who purchased my books and bought my lawbsters sawcks who will doubtless watch this segment on YouToob. And soeh. *Air-fingers a Reuleaux triangle*

Asian Bloke: But PETERSON, we have seen an evolution in our language.

Jordan: Nawt under article 58-1а of the RSFSR's penal code.

Asian Bloke: W-e-l-l, legislation or naht, there are words that have evolved. I'm Asian, and I'd be mortified if someone were to call me Oriental or Confucius.

Jordan: But did Lenin's great-great-grandchildren tell people nawt to call you thaht by law?

Asian Bloke: Erm, no. I guess it's out of basic decency.

Peet: I agreey with yeou on some points abaout free speech. But the laws protict transpeople from structural violence.

Asian Bloke: Fair dos.

Jordan: I sent a letter to the humanities department of the University of Toronto expressing my displeasure at the authoritarian Trojan horse, and in accordance with Bill C-16/58-1a I can expect a midnight knawck awn the door. We use free speech to talk abouet free speech, and-and that's incredible, man. And because I freely use my speech as the axiomatic bedrawck of free speech, I can speak in public and people correct me, soeh it helps me to orient...

Asian Bloke: Hey!

Jordan: speech prawperly. And if it actually was abouet snug blankets & a nice cup of cocoa, there would be no violence which brewed at the free speech rally two days ahfter my video was posted, which the
Canadian Broadcahsting Cunts have omitted in a tendentious way to avoid showing the ugliness of the opposing faction.

Asian Bloke: Well, professor Peterson, I do want to thank you for joining us today. We've run of time. Cheers.


November 25, 2021, 09:53:50 PM #78 Last Edit: November 26, 2021, 01:29:08 AM by DangledTeeth

Fiona: Welcome to Disgruntled, Passive-aggressive Fest November 2021. We're here in Beckenham with our panelists: Mims Davis, who's not going to speak, Tory. Backbench Labour MP, Stella Creasy and her consistently smarmy face. Stephen Flynn, Scotsman from Scotland. Nazir Afzal, solicitor, or is it 'lawyer' these days? And Jordan Peterson, psychologist fruit with a couple of chart-decimating books.


Jordan: And soeh, I'm a Canadian guy who doesn't live in Beckenhahm or the U.K. for thaht matter. Why you've brawght me on to... to speak abouet, wuell, *cosmic finger wriggling* anything to do with khrrent uhffairs in the U.K. is bloody beyond me.

Jordan: Oh! Yes, there is a vague reason nestled within an axiomatic substrate amygdala simply having a wonderful Christmas time for why I'm here and thaht's the, y'know, aspect of politicians having a second jawb. But it's the other way around for me. I had two jawbs: one was my teaching role as a psychawlogy professor, and the second was at my prAHctice as a clinical psychawlogist'. I eventually gave them awll up when I rose to fame through the free speech rally at Torawnto University, which I did because I thawght Trudeau O'Brien was going to lawk people up for nawt acknowledging crawss-dressers as Your Royal Highness. My mega-selling 12 Rules for Life came ouet and I started getting political, and soeh, I'm khrrently a *scans the ceiling and blinks rapidly* commentator of developments who's safeguarding a pa-tic-u-lar centre-right demogrAphic as a result of the polarisation of-of *rolls wrist* pawlitics.

Fiona: Does anyone have an opinion about politicians?

Fiona points to the audience

Fiona: Woman with the green top, the fishing rod with the fuzzy baguette is coming your way.

Woman: Whoy daoh wey assume they're the 'best people' w-

Jordan: BBut they are cawmpetent. *Air-draws the National Museum of Qatar* They fanned the flame inside the Whale in Pinocchio and-and the Whale sneezed. Hhyeah. He let the cawmpetent functionaries in our society sail once he utilised his almighty breath to push the rAHft alawng. The corrupt people imbibe the donkey beer and they wave their hooves once they receive a prison sentence. You can tell by their tails, man. Most people in a professional capAHcity don't have tails or hooves.

Woman: Banking. Corrapt polaticians.

Jordan: It's very difficult to be successful and corrupt. If you're corrupt, you cannawt ascend the heavens. Although people can gradually obtain power and use corruption once they're in a comfortable position. The game is two-fold: assert your expertise in order to demonstrate your worth as a way to accrue prestige, and continue applying your skill-set in your domain in order to remain on the top rung of the hierarchy ladder.

Woman: Whine.

Jordan: BBut that's nawt why you have corruption. I didn't say thaht. The corruption is high ouetside the Walled Garden because certain individuals, let's say, don't excrete serotonin ouet of their eyes. *Squints with conviction* It's very tough to be able to remain focused on your career withouet being tempted to venture into different avenues which are questionable to say the leeaast. It certainly is the case when you have to smite the Hegelian nazbols with your appendage of pinching. And soeh.

Jordan: 3% of the pawpulation are psychopathic - or is it 1%? *Joins his pointed index fingers together horizontally as he grits his teeth on the first word* There's a distinct correlation between psychawpathy and corruption, accurately speaking. Y'know. If most pawliticians had low empathy, were calculating and misleading, and were superficially charming *twists head and nods* we'd be governed by the craziest of the insane, man.

Woman: Bu' whoy is that 3% elevated to ahr leaders?!

Jordan: They aren't. Look. That's wrahng. Having a cynical and hopeless attitude won't do you any good. The social justice warriors don't care as much as they'd want you to think, y'know, it's enough to make you despair when there's no end in sight. Life is suffering. And hyeah, there is some level of corruption in institoots - that's nawt what I said at awll - but to blindly think a majawrity of pawliticians' cawmpetence is predicated on corruption will lead on you on to a pAHth of doom. It's simply nawt true........ and soeh.

Ancient Chris Packham (Reading): The Knee. What does that say about the racist undercurrent in our society? Do it or I'll ram you up your own fudge tunnels. Thank you.

Fiona: The solicitor with the facial tics...

Nazir: I am a brown person.

Fiona opens an envelope

Fiona: Dear Alison, our researchers at The White Cube Gallery have examined the portrait, and because I am not in attendance to deliver good news to you it can only mean that disappointment will be imminent, unless I genuinely am too busy to plod on down to Fitzrovia. But I am not busy. I am sorry to inform you that this is not an original Anders Zorn painting. Oh, sorry, wrong programme. Jordan...

Jordan: Wuell, as a general rule of pahtikyoolurlarities, I'm precisely nawt a fan of generalities, roughly speaking, let's say. And soeh. *Thoughtful expression* This cricket player was facing racism by his own account. What we need to do is stare ahead and press the tip of our index finger into the cawrresponding finger and then each adjacent finger as we list awff the importancies. Who's saying racist things abouet *cod south Asian accent* sum bluddy creakitur? Were they talking abouet an Irish-American character in GTA4? When did this happen and when? It depends on what you mean by 'cricketer', and soeh, who's the alleged racism being aimed at here, the groundskeeper? What do we mean by 'howzat'? Was there an outside party observing this exchange? Is the fragmentary dahtah espoused by the supposed perpetrators from another perspective that's different from the alleged victim reliable? What exacctly do we mean by 'truth'? Because... there's a multitood of ways we can evaluate the truth: anecdotally, empirically, dialectically - or so the post-mawdernists would have you believe. WWhhyy were they being racist? What did they have to gain? Where did the buttered croissant in my dressing room go? Is there a dressing room in this town hawll *swishes hands and wriggles fingers* or wherever the bloody fuck we are? Can we say 'fuck' on this programme? Is a buttered croissant racist? Because if you don't ahsk these questions *ironic eye dart* it meanders into a debate about structural racism. Abstraction. It pits group against group because that's what the Hegelian Nazbol politically correct types in the humanities want. It doesn't address the issue, y'know. I have no suggestions for any alternative. Let's sweep this nawnsense under carpet and get on with our bloody lives.

Jordan: "RaCiSm" is a broadly universal and vague term because it depends on what you mean by language.

Stephen: Aeht meyt, gies ye fockin' luaptup.

Jordan: I have no idea what you just said, but it is a vague term.

Stephen:  Ye yoozd invorted cohmmas like it waesnae a real theng!?

Jordan: It's a vague term that's indeecay- indicative of low resolution thinking.

Fiona: I have no idea what that vague term means.

Jordan: Wuell, it means that people's frontal lobes aren't commensurately amplifying the precosmogonic basal ganglia in order to formulate lucidity on the axiom of preconceived notions.

Fiona: ...fine.

Stella: The thing is, Jordan, we have answers to those questions. You could've properly looked into this straightforward news story instead of reading the 23-page Communist Manifesto pamphlet. It had nothing to with a renowned video game or even a buttered croissant *wipes flake from her mouth*. Cricket club.

Jordan (intrigued): Hmm, yes.

Stella: It's nothing but a talking racist duck. A-wOo-a-OoH-Ah-OoH.

All (mumbled singing): Talking racist duck.

Jordan: I wasn't denying his experience. I ahsked if was to do with 'GTA4' and "can you say 'fuck' on this programme?" - and you just ahnswered thaht. Wuell, the former you did. What I wanted to know specifically was: were those specific specific people specifically held specifically accountable - specifically - for their specifically specific actions, specifically? Because if we don't have this discussion we move up the abstraction hierarchy and then it becomes an aimless argument about structural institootionalised racism.

Fiona: He said it was institutional.

Jordan (Flustered with contained embarrassment): I-know-I-know. But when we inflate this into a balloon of abstrahction it does no good and we gradually float into the blue, and then in to the soaring mouth of the Dragon of Chaos, because it pits trad conservatives against entitled liberal stoodents and it's essentially a storm in a teacup. It exacerbates the prawblem. It's too imprecise. It doesn't address the issue, and I'd rahther remain indifferent abouet it because I'm too successful to give a damn. *Flails arms and wriggles fingers* needlessly defensive now, that does nawt mean racism doesn't exist. That's nawt what I'm saying, in the least, roughly and soeh speaking.

Stella: Less of the hand movements, then.

Jordan: I did it once, but I won't do the inverted commas gesture again.

Stella: Yes. This is about racism and questioning the racism, and Fiona went to the Person of Colour.

Jordan: What I think you did was a mark of respect. Now, it may have been inappropriately post-mawdern. It might upset the cancel culture woke mawb. But I wouldn't say it was racist.

Stella: Structural racism Britain. Sport.

Jordan and Fiona: Rabble.

Stella: This poor young man.

Fiona: He himself has addressed a decade-old antisemitic tweet he made ten years ago about Jews.

Stella: Yeah, and what I found powerful about that was the fact it wasn't me who sent it.

Fiona: That's all for tonight, ma'e. Smiley face me looking directly at the camera. Don't have nightmares.

Phillip Mould: Provenance.

Music: Plinkyplonkyplonkyplinkyplonky-a-plenkyplankyplenkyplenkyplenkyplanky-do-DAN-dum-do-DAN-dum-duh-de-dah-de-dah-dedo-Dan-dum-do-DAN-dum-RRRRRAHN-POH-PUN-PAH-POHM.