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(To fully appreciate the humor below one would have to know a bit about Objectivism and a bit about Rand's personal life, but those who don't, might get a few laughs anyway.)
Objectivist Cult Member Says Composition Not Relevant to Science
Source: Associated Press (originally reported in The Godfrey Journal of Alternative Experiences)
by Michael Rawlings
01/15/2013
In response to a learned missive regarding the philosophical aspects of composition, Objectivist cult member Robert "PseudoScience" Bumbalough yesterday averred that the composition of empirical phenomena was not relevant to the scientific concerns of identity.
"It just doesn't matter," Bumbalough said with a slur and the look of a crazed animal in his eyes. "Chemistry? Pfft. Who needs it?"
Bumbalough is a follower of the self-styled philosophy of reason known as Objectivism, so-named by its originator Ayn Rand, the controversial novelist and Russian émigré who died of heart failure in 1982.
Rand is most notable for her rather vapidly didactic novels Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and for her unapologetic defense of ethical egoism.
Reports have it that Rand developed her sophomoric theory of concepts, the centerpiece of Objectivism's tripe, while all hopped-up on amphetamines and the charms of an endless chain of nicotine delivery devices.
"After the sixth day she was downing handfuls of Dexedrine at a time every two hours with shots of vodka like they were Gummy Bears," an anonymous insider revealed.
“We had to board up all the windows on account of the fact that we almost lost her when she smashed through one. I just managed to snatch her by her ankles on her way out. We’re talkin' forty stories! On top of that, by the eleventh day she dispensed with the Pall Malls altogether. When we weren't repairing the holes in the walls of her apartment from all the bouncing around, we were lining up eight balls of pure N.”
Another source who was present at the time told this reporter, “The needles kept breaking off in her arms due to the erratic and uncontrollable spasms that racked her entire body from all the juice. So enraged was she with our incompetence that she literally busted the pulsing vein in the middle of her forehead that had grown to the size of a small lemon. Blood and spittle sprayed everywhere as she screamed at the top of her lungs, 'Look here, you worthless toads, existence exists! Now go nick a roll of duct tape from the corner market and lash me down to the chair!'."
Bumbalough just recently came to the public's attention for the first time. Readers might recall the infamous Heisenberg Incident in which he created a short-lived sensation in the scientific community when he claimed that the seemingly paradoxical, position-momentum dichotomy voided the inescapable principle of causality.
“There's no friggin' cause!" Bumbalough said in a press release. "It just happens, and I can prove it."
While the scientific community eagerly awaited Bumbalough's paper, it was leaked by a member of his entourage that he had been under the influence of LSD for months on end. Subsequent inquiries revealed that Bumbalough isn’t even a scientist, but a fanatical follower of Ayn Rand with a history of mental illness.
“Naturally, we were all very excited by the reports of a major breakthrough, only to learn shortly thereafter that Bumbalough was just another Objectivist loon," lamented Dr. Stenson of the Landau Institute for Theoretical Physics. “Our heartfelt condolences go out to his family."
This reporter has learned that Bumbalough has an extensive history of making outlandish scientific claims, including the claim that science not only tells us all we need to know about empirical phenomena, but about the absolute extent of existence itself.
"God doesn’t exist," Bumbalough routinely opines, "and science proves it."
“You need to understand what's going on here," explains Professor Blouer, head of the Department of Philosophy and Comparative Sociological Studies at Berkeley. “Objectivists don’t think like normal human beings. By rote, they regurgitate formulaic phrases from Rand’s works and from those of Objectivism's leading apologists. It [Objectivism] is not a rational system of thought in the tradition of the classic laws of logic or in the operational aspects of identity's comprehensive expression. It's just an incoherent amalgamation of meaningless blather cobbled together around a few of the obvious facts about existence . . . so nothing else really follows."
Lawrence Nielson of Cult Watch is more blunt: “They’re slogan spouters. Take for instance Peikoff's asseveration that a creator would need a creator, and that identity is the finite thing identified or some such rubbish. For normal people these statements are, on the very face of them, nonsensical, but not for the Objectivist true believer."
Peikoff is Ayn Rand’s formal "intellectual" heir.
Neilson continues: "Any attempt to point out to them the problems [with their reasoning] is likely to be met with more slogans, the most common of these being you’re denying the axiom of existence! or theory of concepts! It's almost as if they're lobotomized zombies or your mother-in-law's worst nightmare. It would be tragic, if it weren't so hilarious."
Former cult member Kevin Saunders, deprogrammed by Cult Watch, explains:
"You're programmed to believe that certain ideas about realty, which are obvious to anyone with an IQ above that of a small rash, are profound and unique to Objectivism. That's the hook. After that, you're encouraged to repeat the rest of Objectivism's tripe over and over again until it all melds together into one big, fat, sugar-coated cookie in your brain, so much so that the thoroughly brainwashed acolyte believes that the actual universals themselves are being denied by Objectivism's detractors."
"It's what we call a self-defense mechanism downed without the milk," Nielson interjected.
Kevin takes a deep breath. A shimmer of tears threatens to spill over.
"I can’t believe I fell for it," he sniffs. "I mean . . . I'm not a stupid man."
I waved off the camera at this point.
"I was in a bad place, ya know? My wife had just left me, and the kids hated me, especially the eldest."
"Even my dog turned on me," Kevin said as he pulled up his pant leg and showed me a jagged scar just below his knee cap.
"There was so much stress in my life . . . and Objectivism promised a way out. Next thing I know, I'm smokin' five packs of coffin nails a day and my shelves are lined with hundreds of dollars of books filled with rank stupidity."
"Our motto around here is Don’t read Objectivism; read real philosophy,” Nielson added.
After leaving several messages on Bumbalough’s voice mail for his side of things regarding his latest meltdown, I learned that he had been admitted to Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital of New York for treatment.
"Mr. Bumbalough is being treated for substance abuse and significant emotional problems," a hospital spokesman informed me.
However, Bumbalough was able to speak with me briefly from his room over the phone before he had to be straight-jacketed and dragged off for several hours of shock therapy.
Rawlings: It's my understanding that you hold to the position that the chemical composition of things is not relevant to identity in science.
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: Could you explain that for us?
Bumbalough: It's self-evident.
Rawlings: How's that?
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: What’s right?
Bumbalough: That's right.
Rawlings: Uh . . . okay. Aren't extension and composition intertwined?
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: But, didn't you say. . . .
Bumbalough: Look, buddy, I got spiders crawlin' up my legs here, and you’re askin' me about composition?
Rawlings: Well . . .
Bumbalough: Look. It's real simple. Ya got an orange. See? Ya got an apple. See? They’re both spherical in shape. See? That's their extension, buddy. You can measure that. See? You can put a friggin' number on that.
Rawlings: Okay.
Bumbalough: Okay. So one’s orange, and the other's red . . . or maybe the other's green.
Rawlings: Alrighty then.
Bumbalough snorted derisively.
Bumbalough: So you like green apples, do ya, punk? It that it? The other's green. Ya happy now?
Rawlings: Uh . . . I guess I'm fine with that.
Bumbalough: That’s what I thought. Look here, ya Jew bastard, I don't like green apples. See? If ya want green apples, buy 'em yourself. I don’t want no friggin' green apples! Got that?
Rawlings: That's fine.
Bumbalough: You’re damn right that's fine! No green apples. The other apple is red. Ya got that? Red!
Rawlings: Okay. It's red.
Bumbalough: You're damn right it's red!
Rawlings: Okay. So we've got an orange and a red apple?
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: And they’re both spherical in shape?
Bumbalough: Did I stutter?
Rawlings: Uh . . .
Bumbalough: Grusunkahlahdoodoo!
Rawlings: Grusunkahlahdoodoo?
Bumbalough: You're damn skippy! That's you’re friggin’ identity right there! Orange. Red. Spherical. Identity!
Rawlings: And the chemical composition?
Bumbalough: Spiders!
Bumbalough draws a deep breath. Huffs.
Bumbalough: Okay. Ya want quality? Huh? Is that what ya want, ya Jew bastard? I'll give ya some quality. Orange. Red. That's you’re friggin’ quality right there!
Rawlings: No. Bumbalough. I'm asking about their inherent chemical properties.
Bumbalough: What friggin’ difference does it make? Orange. Red. Color. That's you're friggin’ quality right there!
Rawlings: But. . . .
Bumbalough: As for quantity, you want that too, eh? You money-grubbing Jew bastard. Spherical. Extension! That's you’re friggin' quantity right there! Put a number on it!
Rawlings: But why orange or red or spherical?
Bumbalough: Are ya friggin’ deaf, ya analytic-synthetic slowslope? Who cares? Do ya eat the why? Huh? Tell me that. Do ya eat the friggin' why?
Rawlings: Well, actually, yes . . . after a fashion . . .
Bumbalough: Identity!
Rawlings: . . . I do.
Bumbalough: Finite!
Rawlings: So the chemical properties don’t matter?
Bumbalough: It is written by the hand of the goddess Ayn!
Rawlings: What?
Bumbalough: Funklestink!
Rawlings: Bumba . . .
Bumbalough: Slinkalooloo! Hahnoonahyuhkahlala!
Rawlings: Bumba . . .
Bumabalough: Existence exists! Grusunkahlahdoodoo! You’re denying the axioms! A plague on you and all of your house! It is written! Page 82! The goddess speaks!
Rawlings: Steve, call the hospital on the other line.
Bumbalough: Friggin' scientists think they know everything! Identity! Quantity I tell you! It is written! The goddess be praised! Finite! I got blisters on my fingers! Goo goo g'joob! Theory of concepts! Spiders! Big honkin’ spiders! Those friggin' Jew bastards! . . .
Objectivist Cult Member Says Composition Not Relevant to Science
Source: Associated Press (originally reported in The Godfrey Journal of Alternative Experiences)
by Michael Rawlings
01/15/2013
In response to a learned missive regarding the philosophical aspects of composition, Objectivist cult member Robert "PseudoScience" Bumbalough yesterday averred that the composition of empirical phenomena was not relevant to the scientific concerns of identity.
"It just doesn't matter," Bumbalough said with a slur and the look of a crazed animal in his eyes. "Chemistry? Pfft. Who needs it?"
Bumbalough is a follower of the self-styled philosophy of reason known as Objectivism, so-named by its originator Ayn Rand, the controversial novelist and Russian émigré who died of heart failure in 1982.
Rand is most notable for her rather vapidly didactic novels Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and for her unapologetic defense of ethical egoism.
Reports have it that Rand developed her sophomoric theory of concepts, the centerpiece of Objectivism's tripe, while all hopped-up on amphetamines and the charms of an endless chain of nicotine delivery devices.
"After the sixth day she was downing handfuls of Dexedrine at a time every two hours with shots of vodka like they were Gummy Bears," an anonymous insider revealed.
“We had to board up all the windows on account of the fact that we almost lost her when she smashed through one. I just managed to snatch her by her ankles on her way out. We’re talkin' forty stories! On top of that, by the eleventh day she dispensed with the Pall Malls altogether. When we weren't repairing the holes in the walls of her apartment from all the bouncing around, we were lining up eight balls of pure N.”
Another source who was present at the time told this reporter, “The needles kept breaking off in her arms due to the erratic and uncontrollable spasms that racked her entire body from all the juice. So enraged was she with our incompetence that she literally busted the pulsing vein in the middle of her forehead that had grown to the size of a small lemon. Blood and spittle sprayed everywhere as she screamed at the top of her lungs, 'Look here, you worthless toads, existence exists! Now go nick a roll of duct tape from the corner market and lash me down to the chair!'."
Bumbalough just recently came to the public's attention for the first time. Readers might recall the infamous Heisenberg Incident in which he created a short-lived sensation in the scientific community when he claimed that the seemingly paradoxical, position-momentum dichotomy voided the inescapable principle of causality.
“There's no friggin' cause!" Bumbalough said in a press release. "It just happens, and I can prove it."
While the scientific community eagerly awaited Bumbalough's paper, it was leaked by a member of his entourage that he had been under the influence of LSD for months on end. Subsequent inquiries revealed that Bumbalough isn’t even a scientist, but a fanatical follower of Ayn Rand with a history of mental illness.
“Naturally, we were all very excited by the reports of a major breakthrough, only to learn shortly thereafter that Bumbalough was just another Objectivist loon," lamented Dr. Stenson of the Landau Institute for Theoretical Physics. “Our heartfelt condolences go out to his family."
This reporter has learned that Bumbalough has an extensive history of making outlandish scientific claims, including the claim that science not only tells us all we need to know about empirical phenomena, but about the absolute extent of existence itself.
"God doesn’t exist," Bumbalough routinely opines, "and science proves it."
“You need to understand what's going on here," explains Professor Blouer, head of the Department of Philosophy and Comparative Sociological Studies at Berkeley. “Objectivists don’t think like normal human beings. By rote, they regurgitate formulaic phrases from Rand’s works and from those of Objectivism's leading apologists. It [Objectivism] is not a rational system of thought in the tradition of the classic laws of logic or in the operational aspects of identity's comprehensive expression. It's just an incoherent amalgamation of meaningless blather cobbled together around a few of the obvious facts about existence . . . so nothing else really follows."
Lawrence Nielson of Cult Watch is more blunt: “They’re slogan spouters. Take for instance Peikoff's asseveration that a creator would need a creator, and that identity is the finite thing identified or some such rubbish. For normal people these statements are, on the very face of them, nonsensical, but not for the Objectivist true believer."
Peikoff is Ayn Rand’s formal "intellectual" heir.
Neilson continues: "Any attempt to point out to them the problems [with their reasoning] is likely to be met with more slogans, the most common of these being you’re denying the axiom of existence! or theory of concepts! It's almost as if they're lobotomized zombies or your mother-in-law's worst nightmare. It would be tragic, if it weren't so hilarious."
Former cult member Kevin Saunders, deprogrammed by Cult Watch, explains:
"You're programmed to believe that certain ideas about realty, which are obvious to anyone with an IQ above that of a small rash, are profound and unique to Objectivism. That's the hook. After that, you're encouraged to repeat the rest of Objectivism's tripe over and over again until it all melds together into one big, fat, sugar-coated cookie in your brain, so much so that the thoroughly brainwashed acolyte believes that the actual universals themselves are being denied by Objectivism's detractors."
"It's what we call a self-defense mechanism downed without the milk," Nielson interjected.
Kevin takes a deep breath. A shimmer of tears threatens to spill over.
"I can’t believe I fell for it," he sniffs. "I mean . . . I'm not a stupid man."
I waved off the camera at this point.
"I was in a bad place, ya know? My wife had just left me, and the kids hated me, especially the eldest."
"Even my dog turned on me," Kevin said as he pulled up his pant leg and showed me a jagged scar just below his knee cap.
"There was so much stress in my life . . . and Objectivism promised a way out. Next thing I know, I'm smokin' five packs of coffin nails a day and my shelves are lined with hundreds of dollars of books filled with rank stupidity."
"Our motto around here is Don’t read Objectivism; read real philosophy,” Nielson added.
After leaving several messages on Bumbalough’s voice mail for his side of things regarding his latest meltdown, I learned that he had been admitted to Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital of New York for treatment.
"Mr. Bumbalough is being treated for substance abuse and significant emotional problems," a hospital spokesman informed me.
However, Bumbalough was able to speak with me briefly from his room over the phone before he had to be straight-jacketed and dragged off for several hours of shock therapy.
Rawlings: It's my understanding that you hold to the position that the chemical composition of things is not relevant to identity in science.
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: Could you explain that for us?
Bumbalough: It's self-evident.
Rawlings: How's that?
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: What’s right?
Bumbalough: That's right.
Rawlings: Uh . . . okay. Aren't extension and composition intertwined?
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: But, didn't you say. . . .
Bumbalough: Look, buddy, I got spiders crawlin' up my legs here, and you’re askin' me about composition?
Rawlings: Well . . .
Bumbalough: Look. It's real simple. Ya got an orange. See? Ya got an apple. See? They’re both spherical in shape. See? That's their extension, buddy. You can measure that. See? You can put a friggin' number on that.
Rawlings: Okay.
Bumbalough: Okay. So one’s orange, and the other's red . . . or maybe the other's green.
Rawlings: Alrighty then.
Bumbalough snorted derisively.
Bumbalough: So you like green apples, do ya, punk? It that it? The other's green. Ya happy now?
Rawlings: Uh . . . I guess I'm fine with that.
Bumbalough: That’s what I thought. Look here, ya Jew bastard, I don't like green apples. See? If ya want green apples, buy 'em yourself. I don’t want no friggin' green apples! Got that?
Rawlings: That's fine.
Bumbalough: You’re damn right that's fine! No green apples. The other apple is red. Ya got that? Red!
Rawlings: Okay. It's red.
Bumbalough: You're damn right it's red!
Rawlings: Okay. So we've got an orange and a red apple?
Bumbalough: That’s right.
Rawlings: And they’re both spherical in shape?
Bumbalough: Did I stutter?
Rawlings: Uh . . .
Bumbalough: Grusunkahlahdoodoo!
Rawlings: Grusunkahlahdoodoo?
Bumbalough: You're damn skippy! That's you’re friggin’ identity right there! Orange. Red. Spherical. Identity!
Rawlings: And the chemical composition?
Bumbalough: Spiders!
Bumbalough draws a deep breath. Huffs.
Bumbalough: Okay. Ya want quality? Huh? Is that what ya want, ya Jew bastard? I'll give ya some quality. Orange. Red. That's you’re friggin’ quality right there!
Rawlings: No. Bumbalough. I'm asking about their inherent chemical properties.
Bumbalough: What friggin’ difference does it make? Orange. Red. Color. That's you're friggin’ quality right there!
Rawlings: But. . . .
Bumbalough: As for quantity, you want that too, eh? You money-grubbing Jew bastard. Spherical. Extension! That's you’re friggin' quantity right there! Put a number on it!
Rawlings: But why orange or red or spherical?
Bumbalough: Are ya friggin’ deaf, ya analytic-synthetic slowslope? Who cares? Do ya eat the why? Huh? Tell me that. Do ya eat the friggin' why?
Rawlings: Well, actually, yes . . . after a fashion . . .
Bumbalough: Identity!
Rawlings: . . . I do.
Bumbalough: Finite!
Rawlings: So the chemical properties don’t matter?
Bumbalough: It is written by the hand of the goddess Ayn!
Rawlings: What?
Bumbalough: Funklestink!
Rawlings: Bumba . . .
Bumbalough: Slinkalooloo! Hahnoonahyuhkahlala!
Rawlings: Bumba . . .
Bumabalough: Existence exists! Grusunkahlahdoodoo! You’re denying the axioms! A plague on you and all of your house! It is written! Page 82! The goddess speaks!
Rawlings: Steve, call the hospital on the other line.
Bumbalough: Friggin' scientists think they know everything! Identity! Quantity I tell you! It is written! The goddess be praised! Finite! I got blisters on my fingers! Goo goo g'joob! Theory of concepts! Spiders! Big honkin’ spiders! Those friggin' Jew bastards! . . .
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