Tell me the argument. A real human reads it, picks a winner, and emails you the ruling in 24 hours. Want it on the record? Add their email and I’ll serve them the verdict too.
These are the kinds of disputes I rule on — one blunt verdict each. No real cases yet; the archive opens once there are.
Describe the dispute. Yes, you get to frame it however you want. I’m not naive — I rule accordingly.
One flat fee for the whole dispute, not per person. Secure checkout. Just takes a minute.
A short, confident verdict within 24 hours. Added their email? They get it at the same moment. No one softens it in the retelling.
I rule on dumb, low-stakes disagreements only. I’m like an unbiased friend. Or maybe small claims court, but smaller.
I’m just some guy. That stuff deserves a professional.
One short, confident email. Add the other party and they get the same one, at the same moment — no one gets to soften it in the retelling.
Not even a little bit. But I’ll give you a straight answer, and something to show the other person that ends the argument. That’s worth ten bucks.
No. If your fight involves lawyers, real money, or anyone’s actual wellbeing, that’s above my pay grade, and my qualifications are zero, remember. I rule on the small stuff: chores, names, plans, food opinions, and who’s right about the thing from 2019 you’re both still mad about. If you send me something serious, I’ll refund you and gently point you toward a real professional.
That’s the entire point. You couldn’t settle it, so I did. My ruling is final. No appeals, no rebuttals, no ‘yeah but what about…’
Only if you add their email — then they get it the moment you do, no softening it in the retelling. Skip it and the ruling is yours alone, to screenshot and deploy however you like.
Wildly. I account for the fact that you wrote the story. Testimony that’s suspiciously flattering to the author tends to lose.
No. It’s a real person reading your actual argument and making an actual call. That’s the whole product. Not an algorithm. Just some guy with an opinion and zero fear of confrontation.
Tiny, low-stakes stuff: chores, road-trip seating, whose turn it is, the right way to load a dishwasher, dumb recurring debates. The smaller the argument, the happier I am.
Real service. Real money. Real human. Also genuinely funny. Those things are not mutually exclusive.
$10. One ruling, emailed to you — and to them, if you say so. The dumb argument dies today.
Settle an Argument →