Tag Archives: Ben Emlyn Jones

The Great HPANWO Debates

 

The Great Debate Part 1

 

 

The Great Debate Part 2

Yes, I have emerged from the other side, a bit bruised and shell shocked but I’ve made it!  I have survived two brutal debates with my nemesis Ben Emlyn-Jones aka In The Description Box Below.    It does seem as though I have lost both bouts if you tally up the amount of roses the cockroaches have thrown towards the Bullring.  I was the bull, majestically sweeping towards a slow death as the Matador picked me off…theory by theory by conspiracy theory.  Name after name of persons I couldn’t reasonably be expected to know.   If the debate had moved to pastures of a more musical whim then the Bull wins hands down.   He would know nothing, I assume, of the development of the piano sonata from Domenico Scarlatti to Johannes Brahms via Beethoven and Schubert.  Although this Matador expected me to know, in depth, the bullshit nonsense from Rendlesham Forest in 19 fucking 80!  I asked in Bull talk if the craft landed then where was it?  Mr Answer for Everything just pounds the ring with his huge red rag, although at the time turquoise would have set off an explosion in my underpants.

I feel I fisted my way through the barren miserable landscape that is woo woo.  Now we wander the valleys of Mars.  It is a hunt.  I am the prey.  I will be picked  off.  Slowly.  See there is no hope with woo, it gives no joy, just fear and perpetual misery.  You feel as though the colourful Matadors of the woo world enjoys a strange nihilistic existence. As you would expect he is all wikied up for the journey with his band of nearly alive viruses that accompany him on such occasions.  He gives me a headstart, I stride with the help of the weaker gravitational pull and stride desperately across the red landscape.   The viruses praise me for giving it a go but they soon start to back their man.  I am now in turquoise and can be seen for many miles yet a sand storm whips up the landscape and I disappear.  I wonder if the viruses can penetrate my space suit.  Maybe Mr Smallpox will bust through my face shield.   I hide in a dip and quickly text that I can’t see how the twin towers where blown up by directed energy.  Ms Influenza starts her trek to look for me with her powerful eyes and Mr Rabies strides towards the crater that is my home for now.  The huge beast of the HPAWNO monster seems to have grown in stature.   I can feel the pounding as he scrapes his way towards me quoting long and tedious passages from his self-published novel.   Fuck!

Hot sweat pours from my skin.  My hands are strapped down and my legs buckled.  All around me is stuff that lives in ponds and I realise I am in a Victorian style operating theatre with plenty of space for the antagonists to watch my final moments.  I declare that I don’t have a clue or give a shit about some bloke, a professor nonetheless, who happily accepts anecdotal evidence as proof for alien visitation from 150 Zimbabwean schoolchildren.  The Matador enters for his final attack.

‘I am surprised how little you knew about the stuff that is practically made up.’  He says.

Sorry did he slip up there?  Is he admitting he is wrong is he a contradiction? A large dose, maybe 1000 mg of chlorpromazine (woos don’t mind stuff like that if it suits their agenda) is injected into my arm.  I feel tense but strangely exhausted and I forget the contradiction.

‘Now Mr Sluggs.’  says the man who runs the HPANWO empire, ‘I used to be a porter and I have more pride and dignity then you can imagine.  We will make you well.  We will remove this science nonsense from your mind through are freedom and truth foundation.  Within good time you will be one of us again, you will be an Icke reading woo woo.’

Then I had a stoke and died before the ambulance arrived.

Colin’s Elbow invited to debate Ben Emlyn-Jones of HPANWO

It is with feverish excitement and intrigue that I can happily confirm after all these years I have finally been given the chance to debate, shall we say a nemesis of mine , the ruler of HPANWO, Ben Emlyn-Jones of Oxford.   Although I doubt he would admit it, he surely sees me as a thorn in his conspiratorial quest for truth and knowledge.  That old word truth again, what a wonderful word it is.   Sadly it is overused in wooism and underused in actual science, ironically.

I have been warring on and off with Ben, mainly on his forum, since the summer of 2010 when I was finally a skeptic and no longer a woo.  We disagreed from the off and some of our conversations over the years could always be described as rather tasty at times.  The amount of times I have been accused of using rhetoric in a discussion with him is uncountable.  He does make some very broad claims though will which I hope to address in this online debate.  Yet I am his guest and he may want to get to know me more so if you are reading this Mr Jones here is a little CV for you:

I’m 39.  I live in Dover.  I support Dover Athletic FC.  I play the piano and compose.  Music is my strongest subject.  I am a layman of science but I feel I will have enough to get through this debate.    I used to cut grass for a living and I felt no pride and dignity in it whatsoever when I strimmed a load of dogshit into my face first thing on a cold damp miserable Monday morning.   I have Asperger’s and bipolar and take several medications which help keep me/it under control.   I mention that as people of the alternate thinking variety don’t like psyche meds or vaccines, or anything that helps people live a better life that without would probably lead to an early death.   It is a good thing we don’t live in a Victorian society where quacks surely outnumbered actual doctors.   Mr Jones would have been in his element back then, maybe!

Anyway, all I need to say now is come on, Mr Jones, when is this going to happen?

A skeptical Skeptic.

After having some neat piece of advertising on the HPANWO radio show last night which added no extra traffic to this flop of a blog I had asked to be referred to as a ‘Skeptical Skeptic’.  Ben did ponder as to what one was even after saying it was an apt name on facebook.  I suppose it means awkwardly skeptical, in other words unless you can prove something with extraordinary evidence I won’t believe you.

If I saw the loch ness monster appear before my eyes I still wouldn’t believe it until it was captured and  analyzed to prove it was indeed a cryptozoological creature.   Or I would imagine I was hallucinating.  Even if I had taken 800 mg of quetiapine everyday for ten years I would assume the drug was not working.  Why?  Because that is more plausible.  What if others witnessed such an event?  Well they too would be hallucinating.  The thing is I don’t want to believe in anything that goes against scientific inquiry or the scientific method.  Why?  Because it is sloppy and lazy to just make fiction up and pass it off as fact.

That is what most of the conspiracy world is; poorly written fiction.   You can have a hard on over aliens hiding in RAF bunkers or planes pumping out toxic fumes to poison us all, that includes fluoride as well.  It doesn’t even make for a decent storyline, yet people gobble it up, but why?   Perhaps it makes sense in someone else’s mind other than my own.  Perhaps it correlates in some bizarre fashion.  It clicks for them and makes some ‘sane’ connections.  Doesn’t make it true though.  I’d love to know what percentage of the online world is made up of these disastrous brains spewing vomit all over people’s consciousnesses.  The David Icke Forum is a good place to start; full of wretched souls trying to make uneducated hamfisted guesses at how the Universe works.  Sometimes real science is used to explain poor science and that is why it remains on the DIF and not in some peer-reviewed journal.

So there is nothing wrong with being skeptically skeptical.  I think it is healthy and interesting because science is intriguing without adding ladles of sloppy bullshit.   To add HPANWO is nothing but the opinions of one man called Ben who just picks certain news articles each day and adds a bit a wikipedia research to it then a touch of conspiratorial bent.

He is a woo a wooing!