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Then They Came for the White Men and Boys
And there were too many left to speak for us. Most of them were wrong.
Look, friends. I don’t often react to op-eds. I find that skewering some other blowhard’s take on a timely and time-sensitive topic is, usually, nothing more than a cheap internet trope played for quick bucks and shallow validation. (Trust me, I can be a blowhard all on my own.)
I mean, Jesus … how many times do we need to hear an aggrieved self-styled feminist grill Jordan Peterson for being a regressive twat-nozzle in public?
We already know he is. He’s a Red State charlatan wackadoodle raiding Wonka’s chocolate factory, charming dick-brained Dark-Web Oompa Loompas into a golden ticket and fraudulent ownership stake, with his twin smoke screens of post-grad creds and Canadian citizenship. That Diet Oathkeeper’s a busted douchecanoe up prick’s creek without a paddle. Still, you waste 2,000 colorless words on him, weekly, assuming it’s just you and J.P.’s stoned tablets summiting Sinai, and that you parted the Red Sea yourself.
Congrats. No one’s surprised; no one learned a thing; enjoy your 58,000 pageviews and your 146 vapid commenters performing variations on “hard same” and “why are men” in E-flat minor. Please pick up your off-brand door prize on the way out and your oddly…