That post I made about men’s rights activists all being “of a type” did not go unnoticed. A few of them slithered out of the woodwork to defend themselves and in doing so proved me absolutely right.
It was amusing.
No, Friend Hate, it is people like you who are of a type. People who portray others as subhuman, who sneer at their suffering, who put themselves up upon a gaudy pedestal and spit those they have the opportunity to.
You’re not interested in reason, or discussion, or understanding. You’re interesting in feeling superior… at inflicting shame… at sneering cruelty.
Friend Hate, your kind is too terribly well known… and for good reason. Your brood pops up every few years… completely unawares of what they are and what they represent… completely immersed in the soothing comforting warmth of their self righteous shit.
And that shit saturates them… and it is through that stink… that undeniable stink… that people like you are found out.
You’ll dismiss this. You’ll have to. To do otherwise would be identity suicide for you. But to others reading it it’ll be a clarion call that it is the wrongness in you we must all work against.
That was fucking poetry.
This is one of the few things I’ve ever seen him say that is spot on and not overdone.
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