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Alex Jones unintentionally explains the plot of Neon Genesis Evangelion
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Doh2LzWkxFU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Doh2LzWkxFU
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Friendly reminder that chat control was approved under the danish EU presidency
Denmark is a sorry excuse of a successful state
Denmark is a sorry excuse of a successful state
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One of the strangest footnotes in early modern science is the saga of the “Invisible College,” a semi-secret network of natural philosophers in 17th-century England who quietly laid the groundwork for what would become the Royal Society—and, by extension, the entire scientific method as we know it. The Invisible College wasn’t a formal institution, nor did it have a headquarters. It was more like an underground intellectual movement formed during a period when England was torn apart by civil war, plague outbreaks, and political paranoia. In a world where religious conflict and royal power dominated public life, these thinkers sought something radically different: truth derived not from scripture or monarchy, but from experiment, measurement, and repeatable observation.
Its members were an eclectic mix: Robert Boyle, the “father of chemistry,” who filled his house with pumps, furnaces, and strange mechanical contraptions; John Wilkins, a theologian who simultaneously dreamt of universal languages and interplanetary travel; Christopher Wren, who balanced architectural genius with experimental anatomy; and a rotating cast of physicians, mathematicians, alchemists, and astronomers who met in private rooms, back gardens, and candlelit taverns to discuss optics, magnetism, blood circulation, air pressure, and celestial mechanics.
What made the Invisible College so unusual was not just its intellectual ambition, but the discipline it imposed. Members insisted on witnessing each other’s experiments, verifying results, and rejecting claims that couldn’t survive scrutiny. In an age when “science” was still entangled with mysticism, prophecy, and alchemy, they pushed for a new culture of evidence—an insistence that nature’s secrets were accessible only through careful testing, not grand theories or ancient authority.
By the 1660s, the political climate stabilised enough for the group to emerge from the shadows. They formalised their gatherings into the Royal Society, transforming a clandestine circle of curious minds into one of history’s most influential scientific institutions.
Its members were an eclectic mix: Robert Boyle, the “father of chemistry,” who filled his house with pumps, furnaces, and strange mechanical contraptions; John Wilkins, a theologian who simultaneously dreamt of universal languages and interplanetary travel; Christopher Wren, who balanced architectural genius with experimental anatomy; and a rotating cast of physicians, mathematicians, alchemists, and astronomers who met in private rooms, back gardens, and candlelit taverns to discuss optics, magnetism, blood circulation, air pressure, and celestial mechanics.
What made the Invisible College so unusual was not just its intellectual ambition, but the discipline it imposed. Members insisted on witnessing each other’s experiments, verifying results, and rejecting claims that couldn’t survive scrutiny. In an age when “science” was still entangled with mysticism, prophecy, and alchemy, they pushed for a new culture of evidence—an insistence that nature’s secrets were accessible only through careful testing, not grand theories or ancient authority.
By the 1660s, the political climate stabilised enough for the group to emerge from the shadows. They formalised their gatherings into the Royal Society, transforming a clandestine circle of curious minds into one of history’s most influential scientific institutions.
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