Just back from a very nice bike ride on a disused railway line, so thought I’d look in.
So what do we know about our Vlad now then?
Well, actually nothing we didn’t know anyway. Once you get past the relentless lying, the shameless redefining of words to suit, the personal abuse, the stream of logical fallacies, the mad paranoia, and the unqualified assertions what you find right at the bottom of the well is a common-or-garden un-reconstituted cosmological argument merchant. “All this stuff? Well, it must have, like, come from somewhere right? So, um, therefore God. Ta-daaa!”
It really is that crude and that hopeless.
Really.
Never mind that the only way out of the infinite regression problem it causes is, “it’s magic innit”. Never mind that complexity increases because of phenomena like emergence so our “ability” doesn’t have to be “derived” at all. Never mind that, even if it wasn’t a hopelessly broken argument all it would suggest its deism – a disinterested clockmaker god who started it all and then buggered off. Never mind that you’d still have all your work for the theistic god of your choice ahead of you. Never mind that it’s an argument that rests solely on personal incredulity and a god of the gaps fallacy for good measure.
Never mind anything. No wonder old Fallacy Boy has spent years avoiding every question put to him – when he finally dares to put his head above the parapet it turns out that all he has is the most highly buffed, gold-plated, jewel-encrusted, fur-lined, ocean going polished turd of them all.
Who’d have thunk it eh?