TRUE FACTS about Richard Dawkins

Have you ever made Richard Dawkins cry?

He came into my room late at night when I was a little kid – and this was in rural South Dakota, so that was particularly strange, and I don’t think he had a teaching fellowship nearby or anything. Anyway. He’d whisper in my ear that G-d was a delusion and that all we had was the glorious world of the mind. I smashed a piece of rose-quartz (the South Dakota state mineral) onto his slipper-shod foot and screamed “I REFUTE IT THUS!”

Dawkins’ eyes welled up, and I swear I heard a stifled sob as he limped out of the room, never to haunt me again.

The next morning I got blamed for the bloody track in the hall, of course.


Truth - what is that?

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Are you sure that was Dawkins, and not Donald Knuth?


Have you ever seen @jerwin and @RealRichardDawkins in the same room at the same time?


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0 voters

Wait. Are you organizing or psychologizing? I need to know, in order to proceed.

That honestly made me laugh. In that, “oh shit oh shit that’s actually true goddamnit” sort of way.


Wait… that was your summary? :stuck_out_tongue_closed_eyes:

I don’t agree with attacking Tim Hunt for a sexist comment that he apologised profusely for, and which nobody is defending. I don’t agree with attacking Connie St. Louis for criticising him, although she clearly is not willing to change her view of him despite the evidence. It doesn’t matter whether Tim Hunt is sexist or not, it doesn’t matter that he actively supports women, it doesn’t matter that he apologised profusely, renounced his statements and stepped down from a number of positions, it doesn’t matter that the accusations of sexism and crowd reaction were not true or edited to say the opposite of what he was trying to say. None of this matters, because sexism exists and Tim Hunt is a sexist.

Have to say it: Richard Dawkins had sex with a pig’s head at Oxford.


Funny thing is, that one’s probably the most true of any post in this thread!


I know, it’s like 50/50. If I’m generous, 10/90.


I doubt the man’s flexible enough for autofellatio, even in his prime

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When I was a baby, he let his beagle attack me.


Richard Dawkins convinced me to buy a diesel Jetta instead of a Prius.


Can any of us here honestly say otherwise about ourselves?

I didn’t get in to Oxford. I had to settle for a guinea pig at USC.


When I was a baby, quietly sleeping in my crib with my parents watching me, Richard Dawkins loudly flounced in the room. He looked my parents straight in the eye (he has movable eyes like some reptiles) and ejaculated, “My what a BEAUTIFUL babbe. I mean, beautiful for you two. What is her name?”.

After a few moments of my parents stammering, Dawkins proposed something… Nightmarish. " You know, natural selection is… Natural. Just say the word."

After a solid minute of stunned silence, he jauntily sauntered out of the room.


When I was in third grade and walking home from school, every day I would encounter Richard Dawkins dressed in a pantomime-dog-costume. He would chase me, barking, for a block or two, until my pudgy legs gave out. As I lay on the ground panting, he’d rifle through my book bag, and savage my papers with his teeth. Which looked suspiciously like they had some sort of additional metal appliances attached to them. Anyway.

In vain I would tell my teachers that the “Dawkins Dog” ate my homework.

I flunked everything, and had to repeat the year. On the first day of my second year of third grade I looked out the window and espied Mr. Dawkins across the street, sans costume and smoking a cigarette. He met my gaze, held it for a minute, dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushed it under the heel of his be-tassled loafers, saluted me with one finger, and sauntered off.


Nicely done. Is this turning into an impromptu creative writing class?