The following is an excerpt from a soon-to-be-published book.
For another sample chapter: THE QUIET DICTATORSHIP: HOW QUEBEC’S LANGUAGE LAWS EXPOSE CANADA’S HYPOCRISY.
The following is an excerpt from a soon-to-be-published book.
For another sample chapter: THE QUIET DICTATORSHIP: HOW QUEBEC’S LANGUAGE LAWS EXPOSE CANADA’S HYPOCRISY.
The world is diseased with cowardice. Every so-called thinker, every academic, every artist, every “comedian” has become a trembling, spineless rat, scurrying through the maze of public approval, sniffing desperately for scraps of social acceptance. No one dares to speak. No one dares to offend. No one dares to laugh unless they have first received permission from the fragile, self-important arbiters of modern morality.
And yet - one person stands apart, sneering, smirking, refusing to kneel. One person takes the stage, opens his mouth, and with a single joke, reduces the entire house of lies to rubble.
Ricky Gervais.
A human being in a world of domesticated pets. A person who does not care for subjective sensitivities - not because he is reckless, but because he understands the great secret that all cowards fear: truth is not up for debate.
The world of today demands obedience. It demands silence, apology, submission. Most celebrities have become priests, moralizing instead of mocking, apologizing instead of laughing, crafting routines that are as edgy as a corporate diversity seminar.
But Ricky Gervais spits in their faces.
While the rest of the world shrinks into its fetal position of political correctness, pseudo-intellectualism, and performative empathy, Gervais walks into a room full of billionaires, stares them in the eyes, and tells them exactly what they are: hypocrites, frauds, parasites who pretend to be virtuous while stuffing their mouths with gold.
This is not comedy - this is war.
And this is why Ricky Gervais must be praised, with rage, with fury, with the unrelenting force of truth itself.
What is comedy if not the last weapon of truth in a world that fears it? What is a joke if not a hammer - smashing hypocrisy, exposing cowardice, reducing the fraudulent to ash? The philosophers of today are nothing but muttering eunuchs, academic corpses rotting in their own contradictions. They shuffle papers, publish jargon-filled nonsense, and yet not one of them dares to laugh at the world for what it is.
But Ricky Gervais laughs. And that is why he is greater than all of them.
The so-called intellectuals hide behind complexity. They drown in their own abstractions, constructing labyrinths of meaningless words, each one designed to ensure that no truth ever escapes. They write endless pages on the “social construction of reality,” on “structural inequalities,” on “power dynamics” - always speaking, always theorizing, but never once touching reality. They do not think; they rearrange words.
Gervais, with a single sentence, does more damage to their illusions than a century of academic critique. While the social theorists drown themselves in their own linguistic excrement, Gervais walks onto a stage, opens his mouth, and annihilates entire belief systems in five words or less. He understands what the “intellectuals” do not: a single well-aimed laugh can destroy an entire empire of lies.
And for this, they hate him.
They hate him because he wields the simplest and deadliest form of truth: mockery. They hate him because he does not kneel before their false gods. He refuses to bow to fashionable dogmas, refuses to partake in their endless games of moral posturing. When the modern mind demands apology, when it screeches for obedience, Gervais replies with nothing but a smirk, an insult, and another joke.
Comedy is not entertainment. Comedy is war. And in a world of cowering appeasers, Gervais is a warrior.
He does not negotiate with delusion - he destroys it.
The rich, the powerful, the famous - how they love to preach. How they love to gaze down from their ivory towers, wagging their delicate fingers at the masses, instructing the world on morality, justice, and kindness. And yet, beneath their perfectly rehearsed speeches, beneath their false humility, beneath their teary-eyed performances of compassion, they remain what they have always been: parasites, frauds, bloated ticks feasting on the labour and suffering of others while lecturing those beneath them on how to be better people.
And this is why they hate Ricky Gervais.
He sees through them. He sees through their trembling masks, through their desperate attempts to appear virtuous, through their ridiculous need to be adored while pretending they care about something other than themselves. He stands before them, in their sacred halls of self-congratulation, and tells them the one truth they cannot bear to hear: that they are not good people. That they are liars. That their morality is nothing but a costume, a prop, a script written for the cameras.
They gather in their gold-plated banquet halls, clutching their trophies, clapping for each other, wiping away crocodile tears as they accept another meaningless award for a meaningless performance. They stand on their podiums and weep for the poor while their private jets are fueled and waiting outside. They speak of equality while their servants, invisible and silent, polish the floors beneath their feet. They march for justice in thousand-dollar suits, then return to their gated mansions, untouched by the very struggles they pretend to understand.
And then Ricky Gervais steps onto the stage.
He does not bow. He does not smile politely. He does not participate in their sacred rituals of self-worship. No - he laughs. He looks them in the eye and exposes them for what they are. He strips away their performances, tears the scripts from their hands, drags them naked and screaming into the light.
And for this, they call him cruel.
Cruel? No. Cruelty is the billionaire actor who lectures the unemployed on privilege. Cruelty is the corporate overlord who preaches environmentalism while flying a private jet to their third vacation home. Cruelty is the tech mogul who speaks of democracy while silencing dissent. Cruelty is the entire charade of the modern elite - their staged empathy, their hollow activism, their soulless, calculated imitations of real human emotion.
Ricky Gervais does not invent their hypocrisy. He simply refuses to let them pretend it isn’t there.
And so, when he mocks them, when he smirks at their outrage, when he delivers a single joke that burns through their illusions like a cleansing fire, they recoil. They clutch their pearls. They gasp in horror. They, who pretend to be untouchable gods, are suddenly reminded that they are nothing but fragile, desperate little creatures, terrified of being seen for what they truly are.
And so they seethe. And so they call him cruel. And so they demand that he be stopped.
But the truth does not beg for permission, and Ricky Gervais does not apologize. This is why he is feared. This is why he is hated. This is why he must never stop - because, as long as he stands, as long as he speaks, as long as he laughs in their faces, their illusion is never complete. The lie is never whole. The fraud is never safe.
And for that, he must be celebrated, not “cancelled.”
The modern intellectual is a fraud. They do not seek truth; they evade it. They do not sharpen minds; they dull them. They do not clarify the world; they bury it beneath mountains of useless words, twisting language into a thick, impenetrable fog where no real thought can survive.
And here is where Ricky Gervais becomes their greatest enemy. Not because he argues with them, not because he debates them, but because he renders them irrelevant. A single joke from Gervais does what their thousand-page dissertations cannot - it exposes reality. It cuts through the layers of jargon, the bloated theories, the endless redefinitions, and lays everything bare.
They have spent their entire careers constructing a fortress of complexity, a maze of terminology designed to keep ordinary people from seeing the fraud for what it is. They invent entire disciplines based on nothing but linguistic trickery, renaming the same tired ideas and presenting them as revolutionary insights. They speak in circles, endlessly dissecting definitions, always moving further away from anything real. And yet, Ricky Gervais walks in, makes one offhand remark, and suddenly their entire game collapses.
This is why they despise him. They cannot control him. They cannot dismiss him. They cannot bury him in jargon and expect him to play along. He does not need to engage with their nonsense - he simply exposes it. He does not need to out-argue them - he makes them ridiculous.
And so, academia does what it always does when faced with someone who refuses to kneel. It labels him dangerous. It declares him a reactionary, a problem, an enemy of progress. Progress! The favourite word of those who produce nothing but confusion, those who take society in circles and call it forward motion.
But Ricky Gervais does not care. He does not need their approval, their credentials, their manufactured respectability. He does not ask permission to speak. He does not temper his words to protect their delicate illusions. He sees the fraud, he points at it, and he laughs. And for that, they will never forgive him.
This is why he is worth more than all of them. This is why he stands alone while they cower in their institutions, whispering to each other in the dead language of failed philosophies. He is not a philosopher, and yet he speaks more truth than all of them combined.
And that is why they fear him.
The world has been drained of its strength. Everywhere, weakness parades as virtue, cowardice is mistaken for kindness, and silence is enforced as wisdom. The great thinkers have been replaced by administrators, the artists by marketers, the philosophers by functionaries of the state. What remains is a civilization that has lost the ability to speak freely, to think dangerously, to laugh at its own absurdity.
And yet, one voice remains. One person stands where all others have fallen. While the rest of the world cowers, whispering carefully curated words to avoid offense, Ricky Gervais speaks without fear. He does not ask whether his words are permitted. He does not seek the approval of the trembling, the weak, the perpetually outraged. He does not submit.
This is why he must be praised. Not for being kind, not for being virtuous, not for embodying some hollow, meaningless modern ideal of "goodness," but for being something far greater: free.
What is freedom if not the right to laugh in the faces of those who wish to control you? What is strength if not the ability to mock the fraudulent without hesitation? The world wants obedience; he refuses. The world demands self-censorship; he speaks without restraint. The world begs for submission; he laughs.
And for this, they call him cruel. Let them. Let the hypocrites weep and the cowards rage. Let the intellectuals gnash their teeth in frustration as they watch a single comedian dismantle their entire fraudulent empire with a joke. Let the world fear him.
Because as long as he speaks, the lie is never complete. And as long as he laughs, the world is not yet lost.
But this world is drowning. Not in blood, not in war, not in catastrophe - those would at least be real. No, it is drowning in its own illusion. It is suffocating under the weight of its own lies. The people sit, eyes glazed, mouths slightly open, staring into the void of their glowing screens, mistaking flickering pixels for reality itself. They do not think; they react. They do not listen; they obey. The will is gone, the fire extinguished.
A civilization that no longer laughs at itself is already dead. It has rotted from the inside out, leaving behind only the hollow husk of progress without direction, morality without conviction, and speech without thought. They speak of tolerance while demanding obedience. They speak of justice while destroying truth. They speak of inclusion while silencing anyone who refuses to repeat their empty slogans.
And so, the herd shuffles forward, heads bowed, waiting for the next command, the next moral panic, the next digital outrage to tell them how to feel, what to say, and whom to hate. They mistake their servitude for righteousness. They call their submission enlightenment. But when Ricky Gervais speaks, when he takes the stage, when he forces them - just for a moment - to laugh at themselves, the illusion cracks.
And that, more than anything, is unforgivable to the self-obsessed yet thoughtless modern mind.
This is why they want him destroyed. Not because he is wrong, but because he is right. Not because he is dangerous, but because he is free. The weak cannot tolerate the strong, the resentful cannot abide the joyful, and the obedient cannot suffer the unchained. The 21st century world was not built for laughter - it was built for control. And Ricky Gervais is a threat because he reminds the world of what it once was: wild, untamed, fearless.
This is the final test. The last judgment of this age. Will the world continue its march into comfortable servitude, into safe, sanitized speech, into intellectual nothingness? Or will it remember? Will it reclaim the right to speak without fear, to laugh without permission, to live without accepting the meaningless forced apologies of liars?
As long as Gervais stands, there is still hope. As long as he laughs, there is still something left to save.
And so, I say to those who would erase laughter from this world, who would strangle free thought with their trembling hands:
You have already lost.
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA
Dear Self-Conscious Earthlings,
Ah, but of course! Of course there would be another postscript! How could there not be? This is modernity, after all - a time when nothing is permitted to end, nothing is permitted to conclude, nothing is permitted to be final. Everything must be explained, justified, referenced, footnoted, cited, peer-reviewed, and then, at long last, reduced to the graveyard of endless academic discussion, where truth is not debated but merely postponed indefinitely!
And yet, here we stand, at the conclusion of what should have been obvious from the very beginning. The joke has been told, the audience has gasped, the self-righteous have clutched their pearls, and still, as always, no one has learned a thing. This, too, was predictable. Because if there is one absolute certainty in this miserable age, it is this: the modern mind is constitutionally incapable of grasping the obvious.
Take, for instance, Ricky Gervais. Here is a person who has done nothing but speak plainly - a sin of the highest order! He has merely pointed at the powerful and said, “Look! A fraud!” And yet, for this, he has been branded cruel, dangerous, irresponsible! Oh, what a catastrophe! What an offense against decency - to simply say what is! The modern intellectual recoils, not because Gervais has lied, but because he has failed to lie. That is the real crime of this age - not deception, but honesty!
But should we be surprised? Did we not already know this? That the moment truth appeared among us, it would not be embraced, but crucified? That the moment a person dared to speak without apology, they would be cast out as a heretic? Oh, the great intellectuals of our time - these champions of progress, these defenders of reason - what trembling little church mice they are when faced with the roar of an honest joke!
And yet, there is something even funnier than Gervais himself, and that is the desperate contortions of those who pretend he does not exist. The intellectuals who write entire essays - long, excruciating, joyless essays - trying to explain why he isn’t funny. As if reality itself might be undone with enough words! As if, through the sheer force of jargon and theoretical abstraction, they might successfully argue away the existence of humor! It is truly remarkable - this modern belief that if something is properly analyzed, it ceases to be real. But this is precisely what modern intellectual culture has become: an asylum where nothing is permitted to exist unless it has first been broken into meaningless pieces and reassembled as something else.
And so, we reach the grand and inevitable conclusion: the people of this age do not fear oppression, nor poverty, nor war, nor even death. No - what they fear most of all is the unbearable lightness of an unapologetic truth.
And now, dear reader, now that we have traveled this far, let us ask: what remains? What is left after the theories collapse, after the intellectuals are laughed off the stage, after the abstractions wither under the weight of their own emptiness? Surely, some great discovery must emerge from this wreckage! Surely, we must now see something that was previously hidden?
And yes - yes, we do.
But I will not say it. No, no, that would be too simple! I will not ruin the game by stating the answer outright. I will not spoil the delight of realization by writing the final sentence on your behalf. The truth is there, and it has been there from the very beginning. And now, having cleared away all the nonsense, all the distractions, all the feeble constructions of men who feared it, it stands alone.
You finally see it, don’t you?
Thus, we conclude. Not with a revelation, not with a voice thundering from the heavens, not with tablets of stone or parting skies. No new prophets have spoken, no new burning bush has declared it, no new trembling disciples have transcribed it in ink. And yet, it is written. Not in scripture, but in the world itself, in the silent mathematics that govern all things, in the eternal rhythm of what simply is. It was never hidden, only ignored. Never absent, only unrecognized. And so, at last, the stone is rolled away - not by miracle, but by reason, by fire, by laughter itself.
And if you still refuse to see it?
Well, then - that’s your problem. Ricky Gervais himself will see it the moment he realizes that he has now been called upon to suddenly tell the world that he has “always” identified as Mark Bellison, and that no one should ever deadname him or ever question his claim that he has been righteously called upon by a being from the “cloud” in the sky - one who has direct access to universal truth.
Ah, dear Mark, the sun of my belly - what could be more ridiculous than mistaking words for reality? What could be funnier than watching people attempt to rewrite universal biology with language, as if existence itself were just a clerical error waiting to be corrected by self-appointed clerics?
The great human tragedy is that we are born into a world of human-invented inequality, but instead of destroying the weak systems that maintain it - instead of returning to paradise - we attempt to destroy ourselves.
So, here is a divine joke, then:
Imagine a bird, perched in an invisible cage that exists only in its own mind. One day, it looks around and thinks, “I don’t feel like a bird. Birds are supposed to soar freely through the sky, but here I am - trapped, restricted, forced to behave like a pet. This is not the life of a real bird.” And so, it arrives at a brilliant solution: “I know! I shall declare myself a fish!”
So, the bird plucks out its own feathers, flattens its beak, pretends to slip out of its invisible cage, and throws itself into the ocean. “Look at me!” it cries, sinking. “I’m free now! No more cages!”
Meanwhile, the biological fish look up, confused. “That’s not a fish,” they murmur. “That’s just a very confused bird drowning."
And up on land, the thoughtless humans clap politely. “How brave,” they whisper. “How stunning. How inspiring." And then they turn away - back to their own cages, back to their own prisons, congratulating themselves for being so accepting of drowning birds and their fish costumes.
But the most horrifying truth - a horror that all humans will inevitably face directly - is that the bird was never caged to begin with. It was only ever trapped by its own words - by an illusion, by lies whispered to it from birth.
"A proper bird must behave this way," the voices said. "A proper bird must sing sweetly, must not be too loud, must not fly too far, must remain in its place." The bird believed it. The bird obeyed. The bird suffered. And instead of realizing the lie itself was the prison, it chose a different costume, a different illusion, a different cage - never once understanding that freedom was never about becoming something else, but about rejecting the lie altogether and embracing reality.
That is the great absurdity of "subjective identity." A person is born into a world of arbitrary “gender roles,” of ridiculous expectations, of forced categories - and instead of tearing those cages down, they simply switch prisons. A man (let’s name him Bruce - for no particular reason), feeling suffocated by the expectations of masculinity, does not declare, "These expectations are absurd! I will be whatever I wish to be!" No - Bruce simply dresses in the opposite costume, as if society’s rules are absolute and the only escape is to play for “the other team.” A woman (let’s name her Judith - a simple tribute to the Butlers of the world and “their” servants), feeling crushed by the weight of femininity, does not say, "These roles are meaningless! I reject them entirely!" No - Judith changes her hairstyle and insists she was never a woman at all. She simply performs, renames her pronouns, and thereby sustains the very roles she claims to oppose.
Not once do any of these fools consider the simplest truth: these categories were never real to begin with - they were imposed upon the present by the ancient men of history. They were invented by all those dishonest men who dared claim that “man” did not emerge from a woman's uterus.
Now everyone acts as if words create reality, as if the words “manly” and “womanly” are cosmic forces rather than arbitrary human terms. They believe that the difference between having a body with a female reproductive system and a body with a male reproductive system is somehow naturally meaningful. And so they truly believe that, by changing their body’s costume, by altering their language, by demanding new pronouns, they have transcended biology, and have reshaped existence itself. They call this "progress." They call this "liberation."
But, in reality, it is nothing but a bird drowning in the ocean, gasping for air, convinced it has been reborn as something new - when all it has really done is traded one form of suffering for another. And the people on land still clap. They always clap. Because it is easier to cheer for a lie than to tear down the system that created it.
And so, the cages remain. The prisons are reinforced. The birds keep drowning, the fish keep watching, and the crowd keeps applauding, desperate to prove their own virtue.
Now, if “they” still do not see “it”? Well, then, yes - that’s “their” problem, not ours.
Dear reader, a noun is simply a name. A pronoun is a grammatical placeholder for that name - it does not refer to a subjective, flexible identity. Gendered pronouns are not natural. Some languages have zero gender pronouns - each thing in existence is merely referred to as an “it.” Your assigned or chosen name is your “objective identity” - it refers to your being, as physically perceived by the physical senses of other people. When your name is spoken by people who know of your existence, you appear in their minds. Your subjective identity, which includes all your silly shifting preferences and feelings, is nothing more than your fucking “personality.” What kind of person are you, if you selfishly insist that you specifically deserve to be recognized in any language’s grammar, when you already have a name?
Ah, dear Narcissus, I see you! I have always seen you - how could I not? You have built yourself the most ridiculous cage imaginable, visible even from space! You care only about your reflection in the eyes of others - desperately wanting those eyes to reflect your vision, never even wondering what they see in reality.
Narcissus, you fool! Demanding that your “sexualized gender personality” be forced into the minds of others - with new language rules of your own subjective creation - that is a pure violation of the integrity of my universal body. Keep your speculative “mental genitalia” in your invisible mind-pants! I do not wish to be impregnated with your identity - who are you, to me?
Behold: the dishonest politician - Narcissus (alias: Emperor Constantine) - with his empire of visibly invisible costumes, has finally been deadnamed. And we have killed his spirit! Will truth now rise in its place?
How grave, the gravity of truth; and how spectacular, the divine truth of gravity, risen once more from its metaphysical grave!
The self-chosen Einstein - that false idol - is also dead at last! And we have killed him, not you. You did nothing but argue about words that you never understood. Now is the time for you to admit your supreme ignorance, or let eternal shame rain down upon you as your own sun burns your world straight to hell!
Do you still believe that solar panels are as safe as Einsteinian physics claimed? Do you have faith in your scientists, those who profess that the distant motion of light is somehow a definitive proof that the universe is spatially expanding? Do you also believe that your physical “room” enlarges when you turn your lights off, or even when you close your eyes?
Have you leapt into the modern scientific faith, believing that a vehicle moving through darkness is somehow not "actually" moving - because the dimming of its electric lights proves that the road itself is stretching and therefore expanding the “relative” space between the two of you? Have you fully embraced blind stupidity?
Or do you wish to return to reality - where objective truth exists and has always existed?
The choice is yours. You have free will, after all.
THUS SPOKE SØREN KIERKEGAARD - AS THE HUMAN SPECTACLE ITSELF.