Sci-Egoist /ˌsaɪˈɛɡ.oʊ.ɪst/
A practitioner of scientism—a flawless descent into narcissistic solipsism, wrapped in a lab coat.
A covert-misanthropic hall monitor who brandishes his pipette
like a magic wand: "I fucking LOVE Science!" He believes your
soul,
grandma's love, and Beethoven's 9th are just "irrational chemical slurry leaking through a
meat-
computer." Embodies the
Rick & Morty Nihilist Complex: uses the empty void to justify why taking a value position is stupid. Pathologically driven to invalidate everyone else's existential sense of self. If caught in a web of lies of omission, he weaponizes credentials to gaslight you into feeling
like a schizo for daring to ask questions. Replaces God with blind entropy. Sneers at a priest, then drops to his knees in awe over a COVID-19 heatmap. A radical empiricist on bath
salts—yet lacks rigor for alternative models—because he finds theories too abstract and 'teleological.' Sees humanity as a chaotic ball pit. Contemptuously belittles libertarians for having an "ideology." His worldview isn't ideology—it's a superior void.
Society doesn't exist; collective conspiratorial agency doesn't; only
raw probability does. Uses weaponized selective skepticism: Olympic-level, hyper-fluid doubt. Studies threatening funding = Sherlock Holmes nitpicking. Studies promising a podcast slot = toddler clutching a blankie, parroting: "The experts have spoken!"—before shilling his Funko Pop collection.
"Sat through a
post-2008 economic crisis lecture by a Sci-Egoist. According to him, it wasn'
t insiders knowingly liquefying worthless mortgage-backed securities to the retail investors stuck HODLing the shitbag—it was just 'epistemic opacity' and 'VaR-model fragility.' When I mentioned the ratings agencies colluding with banks, he snorted: 'That's a narrative fallacy—there's no cabal, just systemically stupid bankers failing my personal antifragility shit-test by virtue of following bad regulations and being, frankly, fragile turkeys.' Then he spent forty minutes explaining why his black-swan hedge fund made 50% that year while everyone else
lost their pensions—interrupting himself twice to call me a 'derivative moron' and an '
intellectual-yet-
idiot who wears socks with Birkenstocks' for not immediately grasping convexity. I asked if he'd warned anyone. He glared at me as if I'd accidentally
run over a Greek Orthodox priest: 'I wrote a
book—not my fault you didn'
t read it. Now let me tell you why I'm the only one who understands probability.'"
