All hail the Chihuahua

The Chihuahua Paradox

Everything about religion is a lie thanks to a little dog.

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A Cosmological Analysis of Biblical Maritime Logistics

By Kneel deGrasse Tysony, Astrophysicist and Chihuahuaist


Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you what may be the most compelling piece of evidence in the ongoing debate about the literal interpretation of religious texts. I call it the Chihuahua Paradox, and it represents a fundamental breakdown in the physics of ancient maritime animal transportation.

Everything about religion, you see, contains what we astrophysicists call “observational inconsistencies.” The Bible, much like a poorly calibrated telescope, produces images that simply don’t align with the known universe. How do I know this with the certainty of Kepler’s laws?

One simple word: Chihuahuas.

The Genesis Problem

When we examine Genesis 6:19 with the same rigorous methodology we apply to exoplanet detection, we find Noah receiving divine instructions to “bring two of every living creature into the ark—male and female—to keep them alive with you.

Now, as someone who has spent considerable time calculating the orbital mechanics of objects far more cooperative than terrestrial fauna, I can tell you with mathematical certainty: this is where the entire theological framework collapses faster than a neutron star reaching the Chandrasekhar limit.

The Chihuahua Constant

Chihuahuas, you see, represent what I like to call a “cosmic constant” of irritation. These creatures—and I use the term loosely, as they appear to be more akin to ambulatory neuroses wrapped in fur—are among the world’s oldest dog breeds. Yet their presence in our contemporary biosphere presents an insurmountable logical paradox.

If Noah’s Ark were a real maritime vessel, operating under the known laws of physics, thermodynamics, and basic sanity, Chihuahuas would have been jettisoned into the primordial waters faster than Pluto was demoted from planetary status.

The Physics of Chihuahua Behavior

Let me break this down using established scientific principles:

Conservation of Energy: Chihuahuas violate this fundamental law by somehow generating more kinetic energy through barking than their body mass should physically allow. A typical Chihuahua, weighing approximately 2-6 pounds, can produce sound waves reaching 100 decibels—equivalent to a motorcycle engine. This represents an energy output ratio that would make nuclear fusion jealous.

Newton’s Third Law: For every Chihuahua action, there is an equal and opposite human reaction of exasperation. On a confined vessel like the Ark, this would have created a feedback loop of cosmic proportions.

The Uncertainty Principle: You cannot simultaneously know both the location of a Chihuahua and whether it’s about to bite your ankle. Heisenberg himself would have thrown in the towel.

Behavioral Analysis: A Maritime Disaster

Consider the scenario: Noah, 600 years old—making him roughly equivalent to a red giant star in the final stages of stellar evolution—would have been operating on limited patience reserves.

The Chihuahuas would have:

  • Barked at every other species with the frequency of a pulsar
  • Nipped at the livestock with the precision of gravitational wave detection
  • Growled at elephants, apparently unaware that these pachyderms could accidentally step on them and create what we call a “Chihuahua singularity”
  • Whined during feeding time with the persistence of cosmic background radiation

Noah, dealing with the logistical nightmare of housing pairs of every species while maintaining life support systems that would make the International Space Station look like a studio apartment, simply would not have tolerated this level of interference with critical operations.

The Great Chihuahua Ejection Event

I propose that approximately 15 days into the voyage—after the initial honeymoon period where Noah thought, “How bad could it be?”—the Great Chihuahua Ejection Event occurred.

Picture this: Noah, having reached his breaking point somewhere between the 847th bark at a perfectly innocent giraffe and the 1,200th attempt by a Chihuahua to establish dominance over a rhinoceros, would have made an executive decision that any mission commander would understand.

“Into the drink you go,” Noah would have declared, using the ancient Hebrew equivalent of “Houston, we have a problem.”

Alternatively, given the caloric constraints of a 40-day voyage, Noah might have opted for what I call the “Chihuahua Chimichanga Solution”—a practical approach to both protein requirements and noise pollution.

The Age Factor: A Cosmological Perspective

Now, consider Noah’s age in cosmic terms. At 600 years old, he had existed for approximately 0.000013% of the universe’s lifetime. I’m a mere 66 years old, and I already find myself telling graduate students to “keep their voices down in the planetarium.”

Noah, having witnessed the equivalent of stellar formation and collapse in human years, would have had exactly zero tolerance for creatures that bark at their own shadows. This is basic astrophysical psychology.

The Theological Implications

While many assume I am an atheist—a label I wear about as comfortably as a space suit made of cosmic microwave background radiation—I must correct this misconception. I am, in fact, a Chihuahuaist.

This belief system posits that Chihuahuas are the ultimate test of universal patience, placed on Earth not by divine providence, but by some cosmic force with a deeply sardonic sense of humor. They represent the universe’s way of asking, “How much can you take before you question everything?”

The Modern Evidence

The fact that Chihuahuas exist today, thriving in their role as pocket-sized agents of chaos, proves conclusively that they were never aboard the Ark. They survived the flood through other means—possibly by irritating the floodwaters themselves into submission, or by hiding in higher elevations where even divine wrath feared to tread.

Conclusion: The Universal Truth

So when people ask me about the intersection of science and religion, I point them to the Chihuahua Paradox. It’s a perfect example of how empirical observation—namely, the continued existence of creatures that no reasonable ark captain would tolerate—can illuminate fundamental truths about ancient texts.

The universe, in its infinite wisdom and occasional cruelty, has given us Chihuahuas as a constant reminder that some things simply don’t add up, no matter how much faith you apply to the equation.

And that, my friends, is how we know that if Noah’s Ark were real, it would have been the first recorded instance of “space jettisoning”—except they didn’t have space yet, so they just called it “overboard.”

Thank dog, indeed.


Dr. Kneel deGrasse Tysonny is a reluctant expert on the physics of small, aggressive mammals.