I’d think that the idea that one is at the center of the universe is a far worse delusion than belief in a supernatural deity.

In a universe as infinitely vast as the one in which we live, the irrational belief that any supernatural deity would give the slightest fuck about your pathetic existence is the very essence of putting oneself at the center of it.

I was reading some of your posts from the last few months and I see that in some of them you mention Rene Descartes and i also see that you seem absolutely certain that there is no god. Now if there is one thing i cant stand on this planet it is religous cunts that abandon reason, that being said, i still feel that there is reason to think that there could be a possibility of some diety like god or even the existence of god. I am a freshman in college and am taking my first philosophy class and as far as i have learned, knowledge is justified true belief. So i was just wondering how you could be completely certain that god doesnt exist? Love your blog, thanks for writing.

I don’t need to be completely certain that god doesn’t exist. It’s not my responsibility to make the case either way.

The burden of proof for the existence of a supernatural deity rests entirely on the believers, and all they’re offering up is irrational, unjustifiable claims. In other words, they’re just making shit up.

That’s fine, but I’m under no obligation to pay one bit of attention to any of it. As Hitchens put it, “that which can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.”

You may feel there’s a reason to think that there could be a possibility of some deity-like god, but what the fuck does that even mean? At a certain point, you have to admit to yourself that it’s a ponderous academic exercise in philosophical singularity. It’s all just bullshit.

Again, that’s fine. It’s nice to get out and stretch a bit, spiritually speaking. Still, at the end of the day, if you believe in revealed knowledge from a supernatural deity, you are suffering from humanity’s worst delusion.

What’s the difference between a whore and a prostitute?

Whores put a price on their principles for personal gain. Prostitutes just put a price on sex. People who think prostitutes are whores are the kind of people whose principles are based between their legs.

There’s some crappy movie I can’t recall that nonetheless has a quote that has stuck with me: San Francisco is for people with talent but no ambition. Los Angeles is for people with ambition but no talent. New York is for people with talent AND ambition. Thoughts?

It’s a snarky way for New Yorkers to reinforce their narcissism while calling San Franciscans lazy and Los Angelenos vapid. Here, I can do one too:

San Francisco is for people who are ugly but not mean. Los Angeles is for people who are mean but not ugly. New York is for people who are both mean and ugly.

See how easy that is?

Whatever. At least nobody’s arguing about the cities that matter.

Hey Coketalk, first time caller here. So I was offered $780 for my virginity from a guy I have never met. Should I consider this? I mean, I just want to lose my virginity and be done with it, but then again I’d be a whore.

You’d be a prostitute, not a whore, and while $780 is an average take for a private dancer doing an hour at a bachelor party in Vegas, it’s kind of a low rent offer for your virginity.

Come on, didn’t you see the movie Taken? If you’re certified pure, that ass is worth a helluva lot more than seven hundred and change on the black market.

It’s also a really strange number. Seven hundred and eighty? Was it gonna be eight hundred, but then he ordered a pizza? What the fuck?

Listen, kiddo. I highly recommend you ignore not only this offer, but all subsequent communication from this creep. He’s not just trying to buy sex. He’s trying to buy your innocence. That’s fucked up. It’s predatory and twisted, and you don’t want anything to do with someone that unhealthy.

Sure, you want to lose your virginity. It’s a natural part of the human condition, but doing it just to get it over with is lazy and dumb.

There aren’t that many firsts in life with this much psychic magnitude over which you have total control. For someone with self-respect, it’s an opportunity for exploration and growth.

It doesn’t have to be double rainbow special, but don’t waste it. Don’t sell it either. Honestly, sweetie, if you don’t know what something is worth, it’s probably best not to put a price on it.

“It’s called style. Have some.” Okay, I don’t have any and I want some. How do I get it?

Okay. You’ve inspired me. I’ve started a style blog.

Merry Christmas, bitches.

I swear you must shit gold nuggets.

No, but after some of the birth control I’ve been on, there’s a distinct possibility that I’m laying golden eggs.

I just found nude pictures of my mom, addressed to a woman who was at her wedding. She has suggested in the past that this woman and her husband are swingers, but she said she’s “not into that”.

What the fuck do I do?

Put the pictures back where you found them. Make a mental note to never, ever look at them again. Take a deep breath, meditate for a moment on the fact that you owe your existence to your mom getting laid, and then laugh hysterically at the whole situation.

I’m a 25 year old female and had my very first orgasm tonight. I know that’s not a question, I just needed somewhere to gush.

Literally.

Congratulations, babe.

I just got into Yale! (I wrote about you for one of my essays, an influential person in my life.) Meet me in four years, at the graduation ceremony of the Class of ‘15?

Thanks, Coke Talk. For everything.

Congratu-fucking-lations! Send me the essay. I wanna read that shit.

Oh, and I promise, if LA hasn’t fallen off into the Pacific by the time you graduate, hop on out to the west coast and we’ll do a glass of champagne together at Bar Marmont.

Have a fucking blast in New Haven. Really. Devour as many fascinating and brilliant motherfuckers as you possibly can. Book and Snake it up, bitch.