A law prof responds to students who anonymously complained about #blacklivesmatter tee

[quote]Because of the brutalizing and killing of black people at the hands of the police and the indifference of society in general and the criminal justice system in particular. It is important that we say that…

This is, of course, far too long to fit on a shirt.
[/quote]

No it ain’t. Print 'em up.

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anyone who is offended by BLM is a bigoted douchebag.

Coming from Australia, I am completely confused by the enmity some Americans have for the Bureau of Land Management. That extended camp out at the Bundy ranch and that ranger station squat? Weird.

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To be fair, there’s something of a difference in shades of meaning between “are good” and “matter.” “Matter” is a bit of a loaded word that relies a great deal on context. Saying that something is good doesn’t automatically imply everything else isn’t good. But saying something “matters” can be taken to imply that everything else doesn’t matter.

Now, it pretty obviously shouldn’t be in this case, Not by anyone who didn’t flunk out of their elementary school classes in assigning meaning from context, at any rate. But willful misunderstanding is one of the chief tools of trolls.

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I’ve had more than a few physicians tell me I was the “real” doctor. I liked those Drs. I know a physician who also has a PhD, so she’s really hedging her bets.

  • Dr apoxia, PhD
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I hope you know, my example was just a demonstration.

I know for a fact that anyone who has an ND in my state has no clinical hands-on experience from their "medical school*.

Their training nearly exclusively consists of being told that arnica and homeopathic owl or some other bullshit will cure their patient’s chronic lyme disease. As if chronic lyme exists.

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I have no beef with your comment whatsoever. I took it as solely aimed at naturopaths and completely agree with it :slight_smile: I’ve not noticed any naturopaths that call themselves Dr in New Zealand, but there are a shit-ton of chiropractors (and I suspect they are “Doctors of Chiropractic” rather than having a PhD).

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I guy I worked with had a Phd and used to joke that he could write “Doctors certificates” for people who wanted to take a day off sick.

It’s an artifact of where I live in the US Pacific Northwest.

We have just a ton of NDs hanging around slinging snake oil as if it were medicine.

My position is, if you can’t prove it works better than the control in a lot of studies, then it’s bullshit. And naturopaths like to call themselves doctors in these parts based on the idea that taking advice on what pure water to use to cure allergies or cancer from someone who takes offense at their authority being questioned, automatically makes them as qualified as someone who went through medical school to practice medicine.

I have beefs with anyone who calls themselves medical professionals, who also back up their knowledge with exactly no science.

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As I usually put it: quackery is not a victimless crime.

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“Hey man, take it easy on professional fraudsters. Seriously, what’s the harm?

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“Medical professional” certainly requires a highly specific educational experience. Technically I’m a registered health professional because I’m a clinical psychologist and it says “Dr” on my hospital ID tag. I’ve had to explain to a lot of people what the difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist is. While the psychiatrists make three times the money us lowly psychologists make, I wouldn’t want to have to shoulder their level of legal responsibility for patient care.

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Psychologists are scientists, first and foremost, and know the scientific method.

The people I’m after are those who want to tear down the scientific basis of medical care in favor of feel-good faddish crap that can’t actually be shown through evidence, logic and reason to work.

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Well, pretty much anything is better with some nice bread & chilli oil. Even 'gator pear.

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Absolutely. It takes much longer to reach consultant level.

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That makes me wonder how gator tail with just a tiny little squirt of rooster sauce tastes. Like just a tiny bit. For heat.

My town has “the taste of Edmonds” at the tail-end of the summer. It’s basically a fair for local businesses, and there’s all manner of good food and beverage, including both a beer garden and a separate wine garden. And several live music stages.

I finally have an excuse to order one of these now:

Also, I have to link to their commercial. I hate linking to commercials. But it made me lol, and has about an order of magnitude better production value than most TV ads.

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This is Flatland’s creature of the Abyss of no Dimensions…

“Look yonder,” said my Guide, "in Flatland thou hast lived; of Lineland thou hast received a vision; thou hast soared with me to the heights of Spaceland; now, in order to complete the range of thy experience, I conduct thee downward to the lowest depth of existence, even to the realm of Pointland, the Abyss of No dimensions.

“Behold yon miserable creature. That Point is a Being like ourselves, but confined to the non-dimensional Gulf. He is himself his own World, his own Universe; of any other than himself he can form no conception; he knows not Length, nor Breadth, nor Height, for he has had no experience of them; he has no cognizance even of the number Two; nor has he a thought of Plurality; for he is himself his One and All, being really Nothing. Yet mark his perfect self-contentment, and hence learn this lesson, that to be self-contented is to be vile and ignorant, and that to aspire is better than to be blindly and impotently happy. Now listen.”

He ceased; and there arose from the little buzzing creature a tiny, low, monotonous, but distinct tinkling, as from one of your Spaceland phonographs, from which I caught these words, “Infinite beatitude of existence! It is; and there is none else beside it.”

“What,” said I, “does the puny creature mean by ‘it’?” “`He means himself,” said the Sphere: “have you not noticed before now, that babies and babyish people who cannot distinguish themselves from the world, speak of themselves in the Third Person? But hush!”

“It fills all Space,” continued the little soliloquizing Creature, “and what It fills, It is. What It thinks, that It utters; and what It utters, that It hears; and It itself is Thinker, Utterer, Hearer, Thought, Word, Audition; it is the One, and yet the All in All. Ah, the happiness ah, the happiness of Being!”

“Can you not startle the little thing out of its complacency?” said I. "Tell it what it really is, as you told me; reveal to it the narrow limitations of Pointland, and lead it up to something higher.’’ “That is no easy task”’ said my Master; “try you.”

Hereon, raising my voice to the uttermost, I addressed the Point as follows:

“Silence, silence, contemptible Creature. You call yourself the All in All, but you are the Nothing; your so-called Universe is a mere speck in a Line, and a Line is a mere shadow as compared with -” “Hush, hush, you have said enough,” interrupted the Sphere, “now listen, and mark the effect of your harangue on the King of Pointland.”

The lustre of the Monarch, who beamed more brightly than ever upon hearing my words, shewed clearly that he retained his complacency; and I had hardly ceased when he took up his strain again. “Ah, the joy, ah, the joy of Thought! What can It not achieve by thinking! Its own Thought coming to Itself suggestive of Its disparagement, thereby to enhance Its happiness! Sweet rebellion stirred up to result in triumph! Ah, the divine creative power of the All in One! Ah, the joy, the joy of Being!”

“You see,” said my Teacher, “how little your words have done. So far as the Monarch understands them at all, he accepts them as his own - for he cannot conceive of any other except himself - and plumes himself upon the variety of `Its Thought’ as an instance of creative Power. Let us leave this God of Pointland to the ignorant fruition of his omnipresence and omniscience; nothing that you or I can do can rescue him from his self-satisfaction.”

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So pointland is action without consequence.

Much like Policeland.

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I agree, but you can’t think critically about data you don’t have. Remember third grade, when you dressed up as pilgrims and Indians? Even the brightest kid didn’t say, “but wait, do those blankets have smallpox?”

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Parental guidance is often indistinguishable from indoctrination.

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Written word mic drop.

Beautiful, just beautiful!