SpaceSquid: I'm still having trouble with this whole atheist ad campaign.
J-Dog: You mean that idiot who wouldn't drive the buses around?
SS: More that stuff about having to verify "probably." I'm still not sure how to do it.
J-Dog: You mean in a proper Bayesian context?
SS: No-one will know what that means. No, I'd look at it from the perspective of representation invariance.
J-Dog: Yeah, that's much clearer.
SS: Fine. Look at it this way. The probability God exists must be at least as big as the probability the Christian God exists. Which must be at least as big as the probability that the Catholic version of the Christian God exists. And so on, and so on, and so on. You can keep shaving off possibilities, but there's still only two possibilities, true or false, and you can't quantify either.
J-Dog: I guess.
SS: You can apply it to life in the Andromeda Spiral, too. The chance of there being unicorns out there must be at least as high as there being pink unicorns, then pink unicorns being ridden by sharks.
J-Dog: Wouldn't the last one be impossible, technically? How would they both breathe. Unless one was in a diving suit, I guess.
SS: I vote for the unicorn. A shark in a helmet: not scary.
J-Dog: It would be reduced to worrying at you with its fins.
SS: So let's give the unicorn aqualungs. Mind you, I can't imagine what a shark would gain from riding a unicorn underwater. Be much faster swimming.
J-Dog: Maybe it isn't utilitarian. It's just for show.
SS: A status symbol.
J-Dog: It's a pimp-shark.
SS: I love how republican this country has become. When we imagine a grotesque display of unnecessary wealth, we now think of "pimp" instead of "Prince Regent".
J-Dog: Pimps are the new aristocracy. Even the ones with cartilage skeletons.
SS: What would they pimp, though? It can't be other sharks. That's way too risky. It would be like visiting a brothel and having the madam tell you all her girls are also kick-boxers. It might sound like a great idea for a TV show, but in real life you'd go down the street to a whore-house where you're in no danger of getting your face kicked in.
J-Dog: That first place would always be empty anyways; they'd all be out fighting crime in tight skirts. So, I guess haddock and cod.
SS: Also called "the pussy fish". Much rather those than the actual royal family, to be honest.
J-Dog: You want to replace the royals with sharks on unicorns and their stables of bitches?
SS: Well they certainly can't come over here otherwise. Keep England English. And, er, free of alien sharks. Coming over here, taking jobs from human pimps.
J-Dog: I blame the credit crunch. All the former shark pimps have been reduced to dragging ploughs behind their unicorns, tilling the soil for space crops.
SS: Man, that sucks. Getting their unicorns plastered in mud, rather than in what they presumably want on their unicorns, which is rims.
J-Dog: They've had to replace all their hos with robots, too.
SS: Would that actually be cheaper?
J-Dog: It is in Andromeda.
SS: I had no idea that the economy was fucked up on an intergalactic scale. I feel terrible now. All those hyper-intelligent shades of blue queuing up at the job centre. "Sorry mate, those damn cyans came in and took all the jobs yesterday."
J-Dog: How did we get from God to sharks to pimps to UB40s?
SS: I dunno man, but throw in some cocaine and this could be an LA script meeting.