Well, to begin with, let’s consider the lobster, which is a remarkable creature—remarkable not only for its physical structure but for what it represents in terms of hierarchical behavior, and in that regard, it becomes a fascinating lens through which we can understand something as intricate and contemporary as the cult of celebrity in modern society. Now, stay with me here because it may seem like a stretch at first, but I assure you the connection between these primordial crustaceans and the modern fixation on fame is anything but superficial. In fact, it cuts to the very heart of human nature and the evolutionary patterns that govern us.

Lobsters, as you may well know, have existed in their current form for over 350 million years. That’s older than the dinosaurs, older than trees, and certainly older than any social media platform or film studio. These creatures have survived through the ages, not by being passive, but by adapting, evolving, and competing within a well-established social hierarchy. They engage in fierce dominance battles, and from those battles, hierarchies are formed. The dominant lobster is more likely to mate, more likely to secure the best resources, and—this is key—more likely to succeed. Sound familiar?

Now, let’s leap from the seafloor to modern society. Humans, just like lobsters, are wired to respond to hierarchies. It’s not something we’ve constructed recently; it’s a fundamental part of our biology. We evolved within hierarchical structures, whether in small tribes or large civilizations. In many ways, we’re still those ancient, status-seeking creatures, but instead of fighting over resources at the bottom of the ocean, we’re jockeying for social recognition in our workplaces, our communities, and—here’s where it gets interesting—within the celebrity culture.

Now, why is that? Why do we elevate certain people to celebrity status and obsess over them? It’s because we’ve evolved to look up to those who seem to represent success within our hierarchy. Celebrities, by virtue of their fame, wealth, or skill, appear to occupy the top rungs of the social ladder. They become, in a sense, the dominant lobsters in our cultural ocean. But here’s the problem: unlike lobsters, whose hierarchies are based on tangible outcomes—who can fight, who can mate, who can survive—our celebrity culture is often based on something far more superficial: visibility, not competence.

Think about it. In today’s world, you don’t have to be particularly skilled or intelligent to become a celebrity. You don’t even have to provide any real value to society. Often, it’s simply a matter of being seen, of being talked about, of being placed on a pedestal. And what does that do to us, as individuals and as a society? Well, it distorts our sense of what is truly valuable. We start to elevate people who, in many cases, are not worthy of that elevation, and we undermine the natural hierarchy that should be based on merit, on contribution, on real competence.

This is where the cult of celebrity becomes toxic. In a healthy society, we should aspire to be like those who have demonstrated genuine ability, resilience, and virtue—qualities that, in an evolutionary sense, help the tribe or the group survive and thrive. But when we fixate on fame for fame’s sake, we create a kind of feedback loop of superficiality. We idolize people who, in many cases, are more fragile than the structures they’ve been elevated to. They become the hollow shells of dominant lobsters—creatures who have risen to the top not by strength, not by merit, but by the capricious winds of public attention.

This has real consequences. Young people, for example, grow up in a world where they’re bombarded with images of these so-called “dominant” figures. They’re told, implicitly, that the path to success is not through hard work, not through building something meaningful, but through the accumulation of attention. And that’s corrosive. It erodes our individual sense of purpose. It pulls us away from the things that actually matter: our relationships, our communities, our personal development.

Now, consider the lobster once again. In the natural world, when a lobster loses a fight and drops in the hierarchy, it doesn’t spiral into depression because it lost its Twitter followers. It doesn’t collapse under the weight of shame because it was de-platformed from some ephemeral stage. No, it resets its serotonin levels, re-calibrates its sense of place, and starts anew. But what happens to us when we buy into the cult of celebrity and we inevitably fail to live up to those impossible standards? We become disillusioned, resentful, and anxious because we’re measuring our self-worth against a false and fleeting ideal.

In a way, the cult of celebrity is a distorted reflection of the natural hierarchy that we’ve evolved within for millions of years. But instead of basing our hierarchy on real competence, on the ability to solve problems and contribute meaningfully, we’ve allowed it to be hijacked by the shallow pursuit of fame. And this is dangerous because it not only distorts our individual sense of self-worth but also undermines the values that should guide society as a whole. It’s as if we’ve allowed ourselves to worship false gods, gods made not of substance but of glitter and distraction.

So, what do we do about this? Well, the first thing is to clean up our own lives. Just as the lobster recalibrates itself after a defeat, we too must recalibrate our sense of value and purpose. We need to recognize that real success is not measured in likes or followers but in the tangible impact we have on the world around us. And we need to be very cautious about whom we elevate to positions of prominence in our culture because when we elevate the wrong people, we’re not just distorting our own lives; we’re distorting the entire structure of society.

In conclusion, the cult of celebrity is a toxic inversion of the natural, competence-based hierarchies that have guided us for millions of years, just as lobsters have thrived through their dominance hierarchies. If we are to resist this toxicity, we must first recognize it for what it is: a distraction from the things that truly matter. And then, we must do the difficult work of re-centering our values, of finding meaning in real accomplishments, and of ascending the hierarchy—not through fame or notoriety, but through competence, courage, and responsibility.

Well, you see, this whole climate change thing—it’s not as simple as they make it out to be. We’re told it’s an existential crisis—like the ice caps are melting and the polar bears are moving south to Florida. That’s nonsense! And then they say, “Well, the world’s going to burn, and if we just give more power to these massive bureaucratic entities, they’re going to fix it!” But here’s the problem—no one’s asking, what about the lobsters?

First off, lobsters don’t care about climate change. They’ve been around for 360 million years! Do you know what that means? Lobsters survived the dinosaurs, the Ice Age, and God knows how many volcanic eruptions. And now, we’re supposed to believe a few carbon emissions are going to wipe us all out? No. The lobsters won’t stand for it. They live on the ocean floor, in perfect hierarchies, and you don’t see them holding protest signs or demanding government intervention. No, they just keep doing their lobster thing—climbing up dominance hierarchies, defending their territory, no matter the temperature of the water.

People say, “The science is settled!” But I ask you, when was science ever settled? The lobster didn’t sit around waiting for science to figure things out. It just adapted—took responsibility for its place in the world. That’s what we need. More lobster-like resilience!

If you put order onto the chaos of climate, you’re just going to end up with a confused lobster, stuck in a bureaucratic nightmare of its own making. The lobsters never had top-down hierarchies of so-called experts telling them what to do. It’s individuals—individual lobsters, standing up, being responsible for their own shells—that create change, not bureaucrats. So, before you throw up your hands and say, “The oceans are boiling, we’re all doomed!”—ask yourself: What would a lobster do?

This whole climate change catastrophe narrative—it reeks of ideology more than it does of a scientific pursuit of truth. And I, for one, would trust the wisdom of the lobsters over the hysteria of bureaucrats any day.

🤮

I’ve been crying for 5 months.

Accusations of being an imposter, you see, are as ancient as the human capacity for language itself. They stem from a deep-seated psychological predisposition to categorize the world into the known and the unknown, the self and the other. But consider this: every individual, in their quest for competence and mastery, stands on the boundary between order and chaos, tradition and transformation. It is in this liminal space that one is most vulnerable to such accusations, for it is here that one is both most authentic and most susceptible to misunderstanding. To label someone an imposter is to ignore the complex, often painful process of growth and self-discovery. It is, in essence, to demand that they remain forever in the domain of the known, never daring to explore the unknown seas of potential that lie within us all. So, if being called an imposter means that I am venturing into the unknown in pursuit of higher truth and deeper understanding, then I accept that label with pride. After all, it is those who never face such accusations who must worry, for they have likely never dared to step beyond the familiar shores of their current selves.

I’m never wrong!

The Tesla Cybertruck, a brainchild of Elon Musk, is not just a vehicle; it is a manifestation of deep-seated archetypes that have been etched into the human psyche since time immemorial. This vehicle, with its stark, geometric form, echoes the fundamental principles of order and symmetry, principles that Jung himself might argue are rooted in the collective unconscious of humanity. It’s not just a truck; it’s a symbol, an archetype representing the pinnacle of human innovation and design.

Elon Musk, in creating the Cybertruck, has not merely designed a new vehicle. He has tapped into the most primal elements of what makes a design not only functional but profoundly resonant on a psychological level. This is a feat that aligns him with the pantheon of great geniuses throughout history. His work echoes the transformative impact of the greatest human inventions, standing as a testament to human creativity and vision.

Consider the wheel, often lauded as mankind’s most significant invention. While the wheel was undoubtedly a pivotal point in our technological evolution, what Musk has achieved with the Cybertruck is arguably more profound. He has not just created a tool for transportation; he has crafted an icon that speaks to the deepest aspirations and drives of human beings. It embodies strength, resilience, and the relentless pursuit of innovation—qualities that have propelled humanity forward since the dawn of civilization.

In this light, the Cybertruck is more than just a triumph of engineering; it is a beacon of human achievement. It symbolizes our unyielding quest for progress and our innate desire to imprint our dreams onto the fabric of reality. Elon Musk, in realizing this vision, has not only secured his place among the great minds of our era but has also provided a tangible representation of what humanity is capable of achieving when it dares to transcend the boundaries of the conventional and the mundane.

In the ever-evolving tapestry of socio-economic structures, where the dance of individualism meets the collective force of organized entities, corporations have emerged as titan-like presences, wielding significant influence and power. The philosophical foundations of free-market capitalism, deeply rooted in the ideas of thinkers like Adam Smith and further cultivated by the likes of Friedrich Hayek, argue for the intrinsic virtues of an unbridled market, where entities, be they individuals or corporations, pursue their objectives with minimal constraints.

Now, let’s venture into a provocative postulate: the idea that corporations, these monolithic embodiments of collective human ambition and capital, should operate with an unfettered hand, devoid of any shackles or constraints. At its core, this suggestion is an amplification of the quintessential libertarian ethos, where the individual’s—or in this case, the corporation’s—right to autonomy and self-determination is held paramount.

By extending this principle to its logical zenith, one might contend that corporations, as amalgamations of human effort and ingenuity, should be granted the latitude to navigate the vast seas of commerce and innovation as they see fit, unencumbered by external impositions. This isn’t merely a statement about market dynamics, but rather, a deep philosophical reflection on the nature of freedom, responsibility, and the interplay between order and chaos in our socio-economic landscape. It’s a call for a pure, unadulterated trust in the self-regulating mechanisms of the market, with the underlying belief that in the grand crucible of competition and innovation, the best outcomes will naturally emerge.