Category Archives: The Evidentialism Files

Evidentialism, Part II


Clearly, it’s Evidentialism’s time.

After America officially declared itself a cult nation, the time has come to kill the cult.

The election results have shown us, once again, where America stands. This wasn’t just a choice of parties, policies, or candidates. It was a choice between reality and denial, between reason and delusion. It was a choice to remain shackled to cult-like devotion or to embrace a future rooted in truth. We chose the former.

Evidentialism offers a different path.

Evidentialism is not just another belief system. It’s an invitation to rethink what faith could be, grounded not in superstition but in science, not in prophecy but in possibility.

It doesn’t ask for blind allegiance; it asks for curiosity. It doesn’t promise salvation; it invites us to learn, to question, to grow.

Cults thrive on unshakable faith, blind allegiance, and control. They feed on fear, bigotry, and the promise of salvation for some at the cost of damning others.

In America, cult thinking has sunk into the roots of our politics. It preys on those who need hope, selling them easy answers and demanding loyalty in return. The results are division, distrust, and denial on a national scale.

This is the America we’ve come to know—a place where belief eclipses reason, where ideology overwhelms evidence, and where leaders are chosen not for competence, but for charisma and conformity to the party line.

America’s most enduring cults? Christianity, Islam, Judaism. Death cults, born of Iron Age goat herders, latching onto a world that has moved on.

These religions were written in an age of superstition, a time when disease was seen as punishment, and women were seen as property.

These texts are woven with prejudices, prescribing submission, obedience, and disdain for outsiders. And they’ve been used for centuries to justify every kind of injustice—from slavery to war to the subjugation of half the human race.

They insist they hold the keys to morality, yet their values are stuck in a past of blood sacrifice and brutal punishment. These texts teach followers to distrust those who look different, love differently, or think freely. They offer certainty, but at the cost of compassion. And as long as they rule our lives, true progress is stifled.

In Evidentialism, there are no chosen people, no inherent worthiness or shame based on birth, race, or gender.

There is no room for misogyny, racism, or prejudice because science doesn’t support them. Scientific data shows our shared humanity, our shared biology, our shared struggle for understanding in a vast and complex universe.

Evidentialism isn’t about following a prophet; it’s about following questions—questions that lead us deeper into the unknown, into the beauty of the mysteries around us.

Evidentialism offers a community grounded in reality, not fantasy. Instead of sermons, there are talks, discussions, open forums where ideas are exchanged, and new knowledge is celebrated.

Imagine gatherings that inspire, where people learn and grow together, and where curiosity is the highest virtue. It would be like a TED Talk but with substance and depth, a place where ideas matter more than beliefs. Instead of fear and shame, the focus is on optimism, the joy of discovery, and the shared wonder at our place in the universe.

Imagine a country where leaders are elected not for how well they appeal to tribalism but for their commitment to truth, their integrity, and their expertise. Where debates are grounded in evidence, where policies are crafted from data, and where governance reflects our best understanding, not our worst fears.

Instead of rule by dogma, we’d have a government inspired by science, one that looks to solve problems, not to divide people.

It won’t be easy. Breaking free from cult thinking is hard. It’s painful. It demands that we admit where we’ve been misled, where we’ve allowed ignorance to guide us. It demands more from us than faith alone.

But this work, this commitment to knowledge, is what can move us forward.

True change doesn’t come from doubling down on ancient beliefs; it comes from embracing new ideas. When we open our eyes to reality, we gain the freedom to address our most urgent problems with clarity and resolve.

We face environmental crises, political corruption, and social divides that demand more than superstition. They demand evidence, action, and people who understand that the future is a choice, not a destiny.

Evidentialism sees this world—not a promised afterlife—as the place where our actions matter most. It’s not about promises of paradise or threats of hellfire. It’s about making this life, this world, the best it can be. It’s about asking, learning, and building together. It’s about being accountable to each other, not to an ancient text or imagined deity.

America has had its fill of empty promises, of leaders who sell salvation while peddling division.

The time has come to choose a different path—a path of curiosity, of courage, of genuine progress.

The time has come for a new way to find meaning in a chaotic world—one based on what we can know and what we can build together.

The time has come to replace dogma with inquiry. To choose a future that is awake, alive, and always searching.

Clearly, it’s Evidentialism’s time. Kill the cult.

What We Are

James Webb Telescope

Stardust drifts through the vastness of space, a shimmering reminder of the universe’s ancient origins. It is the silent, glowing breath of stars that have lived, died, and scattered their essence across the cosmos.

This fine dust, made of atoms heavy as smoke, is born from the fiery end of massive stars or the gentle shedding of smaller ones. It gathers in swirling nebulae, where gravity pulls it together, igniting new stars and weaving the fabric of galaxies. In each cloud, there is the potential for planets, and the memory of all that has come before.

To speak of stardust is to speak of ourselves, for in its particles lies the substance of our being. Every breath, every beat, resonates with the atoms that once burned in distant suns, eons ago.

We are stardust.

From Stoicism to Broicism


In a world that once admired the Stoic virtues of Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus, we now find ourselves swimming in the shallow waters of broicism—a toxic cocktail of bravado, entitlement, and chest-thumping ignorance.

Stoicism, once a philosophy of inner strength and resilience, has been morphed into a gym-rat mantra where biceps speak louder than wisdom.

How did we get here? Besides Trump, I mean.

The original Stoics believed in controlling what you can, accepting what you can’t, and acting with virtue regardless of the outcome. They preached self-discipline, emotional restraint, and integrity. It was about conquering oneself, not the world.

But somewhere along the way, this message of inner mastery was hijacked by the “grindset” culture. And in its place, we got broicism—an ideology that says, “Just lift, bro, everything else is for suckers.”

Broicism takes the language of Stoicism—phrases like “stay hard” or “embrace the suck”—and uses them as a shallow veneer for performing masculinity. It reduces the deep, reflective nature of Stoic wisdom to a hollow focus on endurance for endurance’s sake.

The old Stoic would ask, “What is the best way to live?” The bro asks, “How much can you bench?”

In the realm of broicism, suffering is glorified, but not in the way Stoicism intended. Where the Stoic philosopher would see suffering as something to be transcended with dignity, the bro sees it as a badge of honor, proof of his toughness. He mistakes being numb for being strong.

One of the saddest aspects of this shift is that we now live in a society that mistakes loudness for strength and ego for wisdom. Don’t believe it? Check any political poll.We’ve traded the quiet discipline of a philosopher for the performative bravado of a bro, where vulnerability is weakness and shouting the loudest makes you the most right.

In the gym of life, broicism tells us we need to bulk up, max out, and push past all limits, forgetting that limits are what make us human. It turns reflection into repression and empathy into apathy.

The Stoic knew that living a good life required deep introspection, a careful study of what it means to be virtuous, and an acceptance that we are all fallible.

But the bro can’t admit he’s wrong. That would mean showing weakness. And weakness is the ultimate bro sin.

We’ve replaced philosophers with influencers, and deep thought with viral soundbites. You can’t box Stoicism into an Instagram post and slap a hashtag on it.

Stoicism requires quiet reflection, careful study, and the humility to know how little control we actually have. Broicism, on the other hand, wants you to believe you’re in control of everything, that your abs and your hustle are enough to ward off the chaos of life.

Marcus would spin his tomb.