"Coconuts are incredible because they have many different
uses.  We can drink the water inside the coconut to stay
hydrated, and the white flesh can be used for
cooking, baking, or even as a snack."
Jivesh Kumar

The WiFi on North Sentinel Island is terrible.  It's so bad, most people never make it off the island alive.  The naked IT strategists who have lived on the island for millennia have devised a system in which it is actually illegal for outsiders to ever visit them, under any circumstances, ever.  Pamphleteering, robo-calls, catfishing, deep-sea phishing, invasions by foreign military, and even basic snail mail are not allowed on North Sentinel Island, and it is understood that the white flesh of Karens and coconuts alike can be used for cooking, baking, and even as a snack.

In spite of this cultural and spiritual quarantine imposed on the island by the Indian government, a hotel and cafe are currently open for business, and cater to many foreigners.  The reviews are as varied and numerous as the stars in the sea, or the sand in the sky.  Ryker Palumbo states, "The bartender tried to shoot arrows at me and didn’t wear any clothing," while Saci Do says that "I hate this place so much they only served me human meat and not hummus."  Harsh.

Are there any positive reviews?

Phu Buunrin writes, "The food here is so good but I found a group they have weapon and they almost kill me this this restaurant is very dangerous but I will die for this restaurant because is taste really good," while Aishik Panja observed a discount of "20 percent off if you bring your Bible," though it is unclear if the 20 percent is removed from your tab, or the white flesh of your coconut corpus.  The lack of punctuation in the reviews can possibly be attributed to translation issues, since the original language resembles a strange, looping dialect of alien graffiti, but most naked coconut scholars concur that the lack of punctuation is due to the fact that the people writing the reviews were doing so under duress, possibly while running for their lives.

"ട്വിങ്കിൾ, ട്വിങ്കിൾ, ലിറ്റിൽ എർത്ത്
ഞാൻ എങ്ങനെ അത്ഭുതപ്പെടുന്നു
നിങ്ങൾക്ക് എന്ത് വിലയുണ്ട്"
(Twinkle, Twinkle, little Earth
How I wonder what you're worth)
Mr. Spock

As Aditya Kumar writes about the hotel, "I visited this island last year, now I'm rating this place from hell."

There are no known Airbnbs on North Sentinel Island.  The lack of non-homicidal accommodations, presumably, is why.

I have never been into Star Trek, but I can watch it.  Of the first 4 films, I probably like the first one the best.  I remember my Boomer relatives were excited to see The Enterprise on the big screen, which was half the point of the film (at least the beginning of it).  A major step up from the campy 60s TV show they all grew up on.  Star Trek spawned some truly iconic movie characters, who were full of idiosyncratic, watchable flaws.  I couldn't care less about any of it, but the TV show is enjoyable, and the first couple films.  The 2009 reboot was fun, I suppose.  I don't know.  I'm glad Star Trek is there, but I can live without it.

But man.  Talk about shoehorning a self-righteous agenda of unchecked humanist sanctimony into a franchise.  Star Trek is like the spiritual church of Carl's Jr., a pop-scientific outlet that serves sanctimony and fast-food righteousness at affordable prices, on demand.  As you are probably aware, "The Federation" is an idealized coalition of smug post-globalists in the Star Trek mythos who have used technology and reason to end poverty, war, and presumably the pesky notion of sin from humanity, to the betterment of us all.  Having "evolved out of" (conquered? colonized?) the base instincts for power and control that drove us to violence and strife in the first place, humanity is now free to explore the universe under an inter-special banner of Federo-normative superiority of not only evolution, but also technology, firepower, and intellect.

In other words, these people are super-smart.  "Scary" smart, to use a evolutionarily-resistant colloquialism employed by youthful residents of North Sentinel Island and New York City alike.  When the landing gear from a Boeing 737 fall on the heads of the residents of North Sentinel Island like a vision of evolutionary superiority from on high, they are not as far from a would-be 8-limbed Hindu deity stripping off his turtle pajamas in the NY subway before dousing his fellow passengers with lighter fluid and sending everyone to kingdom come in the chaotic haze of a Tourette's-induced Fentanyl jones, as may be apparent at first glance.

I mean, it's not the same.

But it's not so different, either.

NYC subway platform, circa 2024

I'm circling the point like a gang of naked Sentinelese islanders circling a grinning gringo coconut in a primitive attempt to improve the local WiFi connection, but what I'm getting at is that on North Sentinel Island, as in hell, they eat the cameraman as well.  Which is to say,

If you adhere to The Prime Directive, and believe that an island full of cannibals is somehow sacred, and not to be touched, then you absolutely must take the next step and never tell anybody how to do anything, ever again.  If you insist that we "leave them alone," then you have to leave us alone, or answer to God for unchecked ideological hypocrisy, before eating the white flesh of moral consequence, in eternity, from a coconut of fire.

FYI. 

There is no allowance for Karens in The Prime Directive.

I'm getting ahead of myself, in an attempt to wrap it up.

What's the point?

This is John Allen Chau.  He was killed by the natives of North Sentinel Island in 2018, while preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.  The take on him by members of The Mainstream Federation is what you'd expect:  A strict, subjective reverence for The Prime Directive, while somehow assuming that they have the right to chastise him for not adhering to it.  The members of The Mainstream Federation actually, presumptuously assume that John Allen Chau is one of them, and is to be shamed for breaking the unwritten code of the church of self-righteous humanism, which is only unwritten because it's so obvious, you have to be either an idiot or a Christian not to see it.  Which code of course is:

All cultures are sacred except our own.  We are so myopic, we don't even see that we break The Prime Directive every time we Karen out on someone, getting all haughty and righteous, like an evolutionary anomaly that proves itself wrong by persisting, in spite of its inability to produce anything but division, strife, and rubble.  Who is John Allen Chau to presume to transcend our pissant, presumptuous "directive," and "save" the anti-evolutionary souls of a bunch of naked cannibals?  If the sanctity of The Naked Militia patrolling the coast of North Sentinel Island must be protected at all costs, including that of my own soul,

Why is my own culture, heritage, race, and tradition to be disrespected at every turn?  Is my own militia less important, because it's wearing clothes?  Why do I care about preserving the sanctity of other people's sovereignty, to the point of making it against the law to fly so much as a paper airplane above their territory, while calling it "racist" for my own people to protect themselves against... anything?

Is it because the synthetic, humanist, lab-created ideas popularized by the Star Trek franchise are mythological tumors, and humanism is a fundamentally religious, faith-based mindset?  Is the reason these malignant, unnatural ideas don't resonate with anyone, to the point that those who sanctimoniously proclaim them never actually apply them to themselves,

That they're FALSE, and based in self-righteousness and lies?

Is this where Karens come from?  A Federation of genocidal globalists who believe they've evolved beyond the capacity for sin, and who are therefore qualified beyond any sense of logic or reason to point it out in others?

With whom will Nietzsche dare to sing

A post-moral duet of synthetic logic

On the holodeck of flames?

Mohammed?

Dawkins?

Spock?

The human adventure is almost over, bro.  Time to take a hard, painful look in the mirror while we still can, and prepare ourselves for the closing credits.  The Naked Militia is seething at the border of our souls, threatening us with spears.  Time to root out any inner Karen that may remain within our programmed hearts and minds.  If the NYC subway resembles a beach full of naked cannibals, you know the end is near.

Rest in peace, John Allen Chau.

See you soon.