epidermis
NEET
- Jul 22, 2024
- 119
Sometimes, when I imagine a truly just and perfect world with an omnipotent being having sway and divine providence, there's one thing that comes to mind: obvious preferential treatment.
For every human who's fair-skinned and pious, there exists a subhuman counterpart in every sense of the word. From behavioral traits, phenotypes, IQ, and genetic predispositions to something as trivial as clothing.
The White male is divinely ordained, imperturbable, strong-willed, forthcoming, athletic, and overtly masculine. Dressed in fashionably consecrated, Hanoverian-inspired clothing, he has a springtime scent, smelling of dendrobium anosmum. The swarthy male, the antithesis of the former, is afflicted with Klinefelter syndrome, primitive, unsophisticated, lecherous, destitute, avaricious, and prideful, with deep-set, soulless black eyes. With a mucky countenance and a pungent oniony smell, a single whiff from the creature requires immediate medical attention. In addition, it wears tattered loincloths since it can't invent anything, only destroy.
The White female is also similarly blessed and possesses the four cardinal virtues of the culture of domesticity. A phantom of delight, so to say.
I could go on and on about the specifics, but I think you get the point. There's too much nuance and stochasticity in this life for there to exist a god. To have there be a Magnus Carlsen and a "Rameshbabu Praggnanandhaa" playing high-level chess just doesn't make any sense, and it's why people are clueing themselves in on the absence of said god.
For every human who's fair-skinned and pious, there exists a subhuman counterpart in every sense of the word. From behavioral traits, phenotypes, IQ, and genetic predispositions to something as trivial as clothing.
The White male is divinely ordained, imperturbable, strong-willed, forthcoming, athletic, and overtly masculine. Dressed in fashionably consecrated, Hanoverian-inspired clothing, he has a springtime scent, smelling of dendrobium anosmum. The swarthy male, the antithesis of the former, is afflicted with Klinefelter syndrome, primitive, unsophisticated, lecherous, destitute, avaricious, and prideful, with deep-set, soulless black eyes. With a mucky countenance and a pungent oniony smell, a single whiff from the creature requires immediate medical attention. In addition, it wears tattered loincloths since it can't invent anything, only destroy.
The White female is also similarly blessed and possesses the four cardinal virtues of the culture of domesticity. A phantom of delight, so to say.
I could go on and on about the specifics, but I think you get the point. There's too much nuance and stochasticity in this life for there to exist a god. To have there be a Magnus Carlsen and a "Rameshbabu Praggnanandhaa" playing high-level chess just doesn't make any sense, and it's why people are clueing themselves in on the absence of said god.
