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Ultimately, Troy, you have to blame the losers for the predicament they find themselves in. Pointing the finger of blame at We The People just isn’t a fair assessment of the situation. Remember, when one finger points forward, three fingers point back. The losers outnumber us massively. Even in a liberal fascist state, they have the power and the means to take control and even fleetingly introduce true democracy, but they don’t. They never have, never do and never will. Society is clearly unfair, but the blame lies with the losers. Their weakness is that they see themselves as individuals. Only we recognize them as a dangerous mass to be managed. They’re the ones at fault for letting us walk all over them, despite their strength in numbers.
But it’s not that long ago you were delighting in the fact that the wealthy’s control of the media gives them the power to control the truth. How do we get from there to it being the fault of the poor that they’re poor?
Because they refuse to think for themselves. Let me find that video on Smokestack. This is hilarious. It’s some manual-worker hick who thinks he’s uber-smart explaining how tariffs work. But get this, he’s mansplaining it to Dox News’ Economics Editor, Dana Specciboobies, as I like to call her.
Why do you call her that?
Because that’s her name. Anyway, mateyboy has obviously been watching some of my rallies as he literally starts explaining to her exactly how tariffs don’t work. You know, the bullsheep about them being a tax that’s paid by foreign countries. Oh, just look at her face, waiting for the opportunity…and here it is, she now explains how he’s got that wrong and actually, he and she are the ones who pay the tariffs. He doesn’t like that, tells her that it’s a common misconception, an easy mistake for a girly to make and then pats her on the head. Gutsy move considering what’s about to happen…and there it is, she does a pretend sneeze and at first we don’t realize she’s masking a headbutt, but look at the blood. Have you ever seen a human nose explode so violently outside of a Water Cobra movie? She’s absolutely magnificent, Troy, she’s the true Denim in Venom! Kudos to Drooling Frankie for my modern culture references.
Drooling Frankie clearly has more work to do, but you like her then, Ms Specciboobies? Mrs Sensationist number eight, perhaps?
Get a grip, I might spend a night with her, but not the rest of my life. Even then, mind, I’d want to keep my Secret Service detail close in case she gets offended by something. I’m thinking a spit-roast, with Derek upfront to be on the safe side. Of course, when I’m First-Best-Guy, if Dox News wants to keep their broadcast license, they’ll have to get her committed to the nut house. We can’t have women making men look weak, not even sheep-for-brains morons like mateyboy there. I learnt that from Jazzy Bazzy, a real cool dude. He runs a Smokestack channel teaching young men how to pull beautiful women and how to treat them mean to keep them keen.
Of course, you realize he’s scared of women?
Who? Jazzy Bazzy? That’s absurd, the man’s a legend. He’s undefeated in six boxing matches with other Smokestack channel owners. Including Caramel Fridgemagnet, both the brains and the beauty, though less the latter following her first round knock-out, behind The Better Makeup Channel, and Featherturd Dope of the Trainspotter’s Channel. Two giants of the sport right there and I bet he’d whip your ass too, Troy.
I don’t mean scared of women in the ‘gets nervous walking into a bar in case the women’s middleweight champion, Kelly Dellibelli, is in tonight and kicks seven shades of sheep out of him for looking at her white wine-spritzer funny’ way.
I mean he’s scared of women in the emotional sense. His self-proclaimed hatred of women is actually hatred of just one woman. His first love. During his late teens or early twenties, he fell head-over-heels in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. Seeing her would make his stomach turn-over like a washing machine warming up for the fast spin cycle and talking to her could literally make his heart skip a beat. She was all that he ever wanted and he would have done anything to make her feel the same for him. But that was the problem. She didn’t have the same feelings and as he came to realize he had absolutely no control over himself or the situation, his love for her turned into hate. She was a monster who had taken control of his mind, who could literally make him feel physical pain with the slightest of facial expressions. He swore to himself he’d never allow a woman to take such total control over him again and he’s spent every waking moment since telling himself that every woman is less than human, a creature to be treated with utter contempt. Only by taking such brutal and ugly control of his emotions can he hope to avoid ever feeling the pain and the helplessness that he experienced as a result of his first love.
Hang on, how do you know all this? Are you and Jazzy Bazzy old friends?
Of course not, the man’s a total dick, but it’s obvious he’s scared of women. That story is as old as the hills. We’ve all been through it at some point, some of us more than once, but the difference between most of us and Jazzy Bazzy is that most of us grow a pair and get over it. Come on, Hugo, even you must have been through something similar.
Well, actually, no, I’ve never had to worry about that myself. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something indescribable about me that makes women literally throw themselves at me. Always had it, this crazy charisma, it’s like an aura that surrounds me, it’s like…oh…I don’t know how to express it, there just isn’t a word to explain women’s insatiable desire to jump into bed with me.
Oh, I think there is, Hugo. Billionaire.
You’re just jealous, Troy. Anyway, I’ll let you wrestle with your ugly jealousy while I introduce you to the concept of the Gun To The Head question.
Hugo, why are you pointing a gun at my head…WHAT THE FUDGE!!!! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? AAARRGHHH, MY EARS!
So sorry, old chap, I could have sworn the gun was empty. Lucky I’m such a lousy shot. One moment, I just need to talk to Carstairs, CARSTAIRS!
I CAN’T HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING.
Ah, Carstairs, there you are. I just noticed that the window cleaner seems to be fooling around, hanging off his platform rather than cleaning my windows. Could you pop outside and tell him he won’t get paid if he doesn’t finish the job?
Pop outside? On the 37th floor? I’ll see what I can do sir.
And maybe see if he can do something about the bullet hole in the glass while you’re there. Conveniently, Troy, this is a timely example of the human issue I’m trying to illustrate.
HERMANN TISSUE, IS THat the figure skater?
No, human issue, Troy, do try and keep up. Now see how the window cleaner is hanging by one hand from his platform, 37 floors above the street below. Not falling is the most immediate threat to him and so longer-term threats aren’t concerning him right now. He surely knows he won’t get paid if he doesn’t finish cleaning my windows, but that doesn’t seem to be worrying him right now. Likewise, if he falls, there’s going to be a lot of blood and apparently that’s a bugger of a stain to get out, yet is he undressing to save his clothes? No, he’s focused 100% on the immediate priority of not failing. Every other issue in his life has been pushed into the future to worry about later and that’s human nature in action.
Please stop pointing that gun at me, Hugo.
Oh, it’s quite alright, it’s empty, I’ve removed the magazine now.
FOR THE LOVE OF THE SWEET BABY BEAVERS, HUGO!!!! ARE YOU SOME KIND OF MANIAC?!
Oh, silly me, I quite forgot the one in the chamber. Still, I’m not getting any more accurate, am I?
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE SAYING.
One moment Troy, Carstairs, CARSTAIRS, where are you man? Ah, there you are. Have you popped outside yet?
No, sir, I’m just sorting out some ropes, will only be a minute, I assure you.
Don’t worry Carstairs, it looks like the fella has decided he doesn’t want to be paid. Be a good chap and try to find someone to come and finish the job, will you? And perhaps sort out those two bullet holes, too.
Very good, sir.
Right, let’s try again. Human beings are ridiculous in so many ways, but let’s focus on the remarkable human ability to lie to ourselves. We all do it because it’s an evolved response that’s intended to protect us, but in reality just postpones threats till later, and, in the worst cases, gives minor threats the time to grow into major threats. We literally just saw that exact behavior from the window cleaner who focused his efforts entirely upon not falling 37 floors to the sidewalk. Despite there also being a threat to him of not being paid, he postponed dealing with that till later. Similarly, despite the risk of serious bloodstains to his clothing if he should fall, he postponed removing his clothing to avoid stains till later.
Please get to the point, Hugo, you’re just rambling now. That behavior has nothing to do with lying to yourself.
Rambling? You think that’s rambling? You should have arrived a couple of hours earlier and seen me on stage this evening. I spent…oh, I don’t know how long contemplating whether I’d rather have no nose, but be able to smell through my finger tips or have no eyes and an eyeball on the tip of each thumb. I’m still not fully convinced now, but I think I’m more inclined to come down on no eyes on the basis I could wear a pair of shades and no-one would ever know I had no eyes. I mean, no nose is going to leave a big space in the middle of my face and I wouldn’t even be able to wear shades. So, yeah, no eyes is definitely the way to go here. There, you see, I’m making the difficult calls on the awkward questions that you and your People’s Party cronies shy away from. Anyway, I’m sure there was a reason I highlighted the postponement behavior, it’ll probably come back to me as I explain the Gun To The Head question.
Ah, yes, the mysterious Gun To The Head question, so are we finally going to get around to that now, Hugo?
Yes, we absolutely are. Though first, it is important to understand our capacity to lie to ourselves and I’ve got a delicious example. Did you see my message on Bicker last week where I predicted that the People’s Party would almost certainly steal the upcoming election and I said that such grand theft and fraud should ‘allow for the termination of all rules, regulations, and articles, even those found in the Constitution’?
I believe I heard something about that, yes.
So, a few days later, my close friend Fulbeam Luneyz was on a podcast and the host asked him what he admired most about me. So Fulbeam says some junk about me being a great patriot who will protect the Constitution and the host immediately shows him my Bicker message. Fulbeam’s response is absolutely brilliant. Despite my message clearly stating that I support suspending the Constitution when it suits me, Fulbeam insists that my message actually means that I am 100% committed to protecting the Constitution. On the face of it, that behavior is crazy, but it’s actually completely normal human behavior. If Fulbeam admitted that I would suspend the Constitution, then he would have to reassess every other belief that he holds. And not just about me. Where might that end? It could result in all the core truths that his existence has been built on coming crashing down and before he knows it, it turns out he’s actually an Alpaca called Karen who enjoys interior design and exhibits atypical traits for a Gemini. Clearly, it’s much safer for Fulbeam to simply lie to himself about what I said, even if that means completely ignoring undeniable evidence to the contrary. For all of us, our need to feel right is much stronger than our need to be right. Many people who watched that interview will have guffawed at the ridiculousness of his behavior, but the reality is that every single one of them also lies to themselves. Fulbeam was just unlucky to be caught on video doing it.
Fascinating, Hugo, and now the Gun To The Head question, perhaps?
Yes, now the Gun To The Head question. This is just a simple way to help each of us understand how unreliable we are when it comes to lying to ourselves. We saw Fulbeam Luneyz lie to himself live on film, but do you think he’d have done so if a gun was held to his head and that if he chose to give a clearly wrong answer, the person holding the gun would pull the trigger…ah, ah, now I remember why I was banging on about postponement, I said it would come back to me. If we can put off decision-making, we will always put it off. So, Fulbeam chose to put off telling the truth about how my statement on the Constitution was at odds with his own beliefs, because he could, even though it made him look a bit daft. However, do you think he’d have put it off till later if it meant being shot dead immediately?
Troy?
Well?
Do you?
Oh, I assumed it was a rhetorical question, but no, Hugo, I don’t think he’d have put it off if it meant being shot dead immediately.
Of course he wouldn’t have. Did you know that a study from 4172 found that 97% of all scientific research papers on manmade climate change supported the belief that mankind is causing climate change. A similar study of peer-reviewed papers just five years later found that more than 99% of them supported the belief that mankind is causing climate change. Yet three years after that study, 15% of Everythingers still claimed that manmade climate change is a myth. Because admitting that climate change is a real problem will make life more difficult for them, 51 million Everythingers just ignore the evidence and pretend it’s not real. And in a way, it isn’t real. Not today, anyway. In 50 or 100 years it will be very real, but they don’t need to worry about it it right now. If we picked any single one of those Everythingers, held a gun to their head and told them we’d shoot them right now if they got the answer to a question wrong, they’d do all they could to answer the question correctly, wouldn’t they, Troy?
Yes, I’d have thought so, but before you press on, does this involve asking the subject some obscure question and inviting 100 experts to answer the question first?
So you’ve read The Art Of The Lie after all, Troy?
Actually, no, Hugo, I haven’t. I’ve just heard this idea described before, but didn’t realize it was called the Gun To The Head question.
Right, I think I need to step in here for your benefit in case you’re not familiar with it. Probably the best way to explain the Gun To The Head question is to use the original explanation from Hugo’s book, The Art Of The Lie.
First published some 30 years ago, it’s one of those books that most people know about, but few seem to have read. That probably shouldn’t be a surprise because it is a weird book. A REALLY WEIRD book. So weird that after it was first published, a Sensationist family intervention saw Hugo committed to rehab for presumed drug abuse. He was in there for two days before he came clean and admitted he hadn’t even read the book, let alone written it. The weirdness progressed when he revealed his ghost writer was Jackariah Plantagenet-Mackerel, renowned historian, physicist and philosopher, who also happened to be 32nd in line to the Spottish throne.
Bizarrely, Plantagenet-Mackerel programmed a simulated world on an early consumer PC and used it to run simulated events to help illustrate the points he, or rather Hugo Sensationist, was making. The Gun To The Head question comes from the Self-Lying: Type Three chapter.
Let’s just dive in and cut and paste from The Art Of The Lie, I can clarify anything that looks confusing as we go or at the end.
This run of the simulator is going to demonstrate the Gun To The Head question that illustrates another key way that we lie to ourselves. As with the previous sims, this one has some random initiation steps to take, including selecting an Inquisitor from about 1,000 possible options.
Some of the possibilities include Professor Henri Donnedieu de Vabres, my favourite of the Nuremberg Trial judges, Abraham Lincoln, 16th President of the USA, and Mahatma Gandhi, leader of peaceful protest against British rule in India.
To demonstrate the nature of randomness, however, we’ve been assigned 1990s British children’s TV presenter Andi Peters. And in case we thought it wasn’t random enough already, it’s dressed him in the Herr Flick costume too. This is not a combination I’ve seen before.
Finally, the sim has selected the Brexit scenario using a virtual ex-London Mayor and avid Brexit supporter Boris Johnson as our test subject.
Oops, let me quickly interject. At the start of The Art Of The Lie, Plantagenet-Mackerel goes into some detail explaining the fictional simulated world that he’d programmed. These are some key points specific to this chapter. Brexit was the name given to the act of the fictional country of the UK choosing to leave an economic and political union with other countries, called the EU. The decision was made by a public vote and Boris Johnson was a fictional politician who campaigned in favor of Brexit. As to some of the other things and people mentioned, although they’re all fictional, because the book is so well known and the fans are so dedicated to it, just use your favorite search engine and you’ll find all sorts of background stuff. Some of the fan fiction will blow your mind, including AI produced videos of Andi Peters and Herr Flick, though my favorite is all the Boris Johnson stuff. The fans have produced loads of hilarious content presenting him as a total buffoon. Crazy! Now, let’s get back to the book.
Here goes, let’s press play.
The ex-London Mayor, Boris Johnson, awakens to discover himself tied by the wrists and ankles into a sparse chair. Brightly backlit, the silhouetted form of the Inquisitor limps methodically forward towards the bound man, the metal tip of his black cane tapping rhythmically on the concrete floor. Passing behind the seated figure, the Inquisitor removes a matte black handgun from his pocket and runs the cold metal of the barrel lightly from the back of the bound man’s neck, up his cheek to his right temple, before sharply cracking the weapon against that same temple.
A gleaming ruby runs down Johnson’s face as he cries out in pain, but the sound is drowned out by a loud quack, quack, quacking noise.
“Ah, but I am a monster, Edd, says the Inquisitor coldly.”
Ahm, yes, let me press pause for a moment.
Sorry, I rather forgot to share the scenario notes with you before starting. Andi’s friend Edd the Duck is a talking duck that Andi talks to. Well, I say a talking duck, but the duck quacks and Andi understands what he says. Right, I know that sounds a bit crazy, but, it’s okay, Edd’s not a real duck, he’s a sock puppet duck that the…grown adult…Andi Peters…talks…to. Oh, that actually sounds more crazy…of course, yes of course, that’s exactly why I included Andi Peters in the sim as an Inquisitor in the first place. I’ll be honest, I’d had a few drinkie-poos when I added him, but on the strength of what we’ve seen so far, I think it’s actually working out rather well, don’t you?
See, I told you the book was REALLY WEIRD.
Let’s just press play again.
“And now Mr Johnson I’m going do something monstrous to you, ha, ha, ha, ha!”
The Inquisitor walks around the chair and turns to face the bound seated figure. Suddenly Johnson’s head jerks sharply upwards, a thick wad of unkempt hair gripped harshly in The Inquisitor’s hand.
“We’re going to play a game Mr Johnson, you and me,” says The Inquisitor softly, his face so close to Johnson’s that spittle flecks the ex-Prime Minister’s ashen skin. “I’m going to ask you a question on a subject you know less about than you think and give you two answers to choose from. Pick the correct answer and you’re free to go, but pick the wrong one and you’ll be carried out of here feet first in a cardboard box from ALDI.” The muzzle of the gun pushes gently, but forcefully into Johnson’s temple for effect.
“Quackk, quacky quackk quack!!!”
The Inquisitor turns his head to the left, “umm, well yes, Edd, I did say that, but, for the record and the benefit of the game, I’m not a complete monster. You see, Mr Johnson,” The Inquisitor’s head swiveling back to the right, “I’m going to bring in 100 experts and ask them the question first. They will then stand next to the huge letter A or B painted on the walls, depending on which answer they believe to be correct. You may choose to be guided by them or not. So, any last requests before the game begins?”
Boris Johnson’s lips move weakly and the sound is little more than a gentle whisper of air. The Inquisitor moves his head forward so that Johnson’s lips almost brush his ear as they move softly again.
“Joe Blob? Who’s Joe Blob?”
Johnson appears agitated and his lips strain into movement again, more desperately than before.
“Oh, well, no you can forget about that…unless, Edd?”
“Quaaaaaack, quacky, qwack, quaaaaaack, quackle!!!!”
“No, really Edd, there’s no need for you to apologise, I don’t know what I was thinking, clearly you don’t have the lips for it, I should never have asked. It’s no good Johnson, you can definitely forget about that. Right, let’s get this game started.”
Johnson slumps even further into the chair, his right hand, despite the tight rope bonding the wrist, seemingly stretching to reach into his trousers pocket for something, but the attempt is futile.
Double doors positioned centrally in the wall 30 metres in front of Johnson’s chair swing open and a procession of pale-skinned, attractively-challenged men makes its way into the room.
“Behold our experts, Mr Johnson. No doubt you’ll be keen to know the question that decides your fate. Gentlemen, thank you for attending today and sharing your extensive knowledge of women’s beach volleyball at the Olympics with Mr Johnson here. The question we need you to answer is, in the 4156 Sydney Olympics, a team from which country finished fourth? Was it answer A, Brazil, or answer B, Japan? Please, make your way to the large letter A on the wall to your right or the large letter B on the wall to your left. If you don’t know, please go and stand by the double doors you entered through.”
Most of the experts move quite quickly and deliberately, one way or the other. A few take a few moments to consider their answer before moving, while one pot-bellied man, with his t-shirt riding up at the front, stands motionless in the centre of the room, his eyes apparently shut and his head thrown back, almost as if convening with the gods in search of the answer. Spit that has dribbled down his chin drops down onto the collar of his Sid the Sexist t-shirt. Suddenly he springs back to life and almost sprints left to the letter B.
“So, Mr Johnson, does that look conclusive to you? By my counting, I make that seven experts who don’t know the answer, four who think answer A, Brazil, and 88 who think answer B, Japan. Let me repeat the question for you, in the 4156 Sydney Olympics, a team from which country finished fourth? Was it answer A, Brazil, or answer B, Japan? Now then, what is your answer?”
It must be the light in the room, but Boris Johnson appears even more grey than before. The trickle of blood from his temple has largely dried, but several beads of sweat are now working their way down his face.
“Quack uuu quacking qaucker.”
“Come on, calm down Edd, but Mr Johnson, he does have a point, we’re all waiting for your answer.”
“Eee. Ahh ans. Eee. Eee.”
The Inquisitor looks confused. “I thought you went to a posh Tory boy school, Johnson, didn’t they even teach you the first two letters of the alphabet?”
“Qwack quackie.”
“Tee, hee, hee, that’s a very good point, Edd, Joe Blob indeed.” The Inquisitor gently slides the matte black muzzle of the gun out of Johnson’s taut mouth.
“B, it’s answer B, please don’t kill me!”
“So you clearly know your women’s beach volleyball Olympics history, Mr Johnson.”
“Don’t be stupid, of course I don’t. 88 of them said answer B and only four thought answer A. You’d have to be a complete mentalist to say answer A.”
“Aha, very astute of you Mr Johnson, you are free to go.”
Stop and there you have a demonstration of the Gun To The Head Question.
Summarizing some more of the scenario notes, in the run-up to the 2016 Brexit referendum in the UK, Boris Johnson was arguably the most prominent person leading the call for Britons to vote to leave the EU.
About a month before the vote, our simulation’s fictional polling company, Ipsos, published the results of a survey based on responses from 639 economists. 88% of those economists believed that Brexit would have a negative impact on the UK economy, while just 4% predicted a positive impact.
That’s why I said the GTTH simulator was running the Brexit scenario, we were just using the 4% and 88% figures to illustrate a common problem. When we strongly believe something, we can completely ignore clear and obvious signals that should make us doubt our position.
So in Johnson’s case, he had already decided that Brexit was a good thing that would make the UK richer. The poll of experts should have been a valuable source of information for him to reconsider his belief. Instead, he completely ignored the inconvenient fact that 96% of experts said he was wrong. He chose to lie to himself and, by extension, the people of the UK.
Choosing to believe the answer supported by 4% of experts is utterly illogical.
He could do it, though, because there was no immediate or significant jeopardy confronting him. If the experts were right, in a few years the UK economy would be a bit smaller. Considering Johnson’s privileged position in society, he probably wouldn’t feel any poorer as a result.
However, when faced with a different question that he had no preconceived answer for and with the exact same likelihoods for the two answers, he did the logical thing and followed the lead of the overwhelming number of experts.
Of course, I could have programmed the simulator to ask, Will Brexit make the UK richer or poorer? instead of a question about volleyball. Johnson may have been prepared to choose Brexit when only the people of the UK faced jeopardy. I am certain he wouldn’t have chosen Brexit if he was the one facing jeopardy, in the form of a gun against his head.
Right, so basically that’s a long way of explaining that not only do we lie to ourselves without realizing it. We will also knowingly lie to ourselves if we face no immediate losses as a result. Back to Hugo.
No worries, I’ve not read it either. Anyway, that’s saved everyone a lot of time, not needing to explain the Gun To The Head question. The point of it is, Fulbeam Luneyz is emblematic of the losers’ weakness and stupidity. They don’t want to think for themselves. If they do, they might not like the answer they arrive at. Far better to just believe what they want, even if it means lying to themselves. And if they’re going to, of course we should lie to them too. To do anything else would be cruel.
But if we refused to indulge them, surely they’d have to face the truth.
And then do what? They may not consciously recognize that they live in a liberal fascist country, but deep down they know it. Election after election, nothing changes regardless of who they vote for. Why put themselves through the stress of worrying about stuff they can’t change. They lie to themselves and it’s only humane that we do too.
So, they really are a special kind of stupid, aren’t they?
A special kind of stupid? You know, Troy, I think you’ve just summed up the situation perfectly. The losers are a special kind of stupid and because of it, they make it easy for us to lie, cheat and manipulate them to do what’s best for us. Even when it literally hurts them and their loved ones.