エピソード

  • Systemic Racism? Maybe Systemic Reverse Racism....
    2025/08/12
    Just heard a lecture on “systemic racism” from a barista with a man-bun. Ha! Pitifully obtuse. Yo, boys, it’s Papa 4 Da Boys, your six-string slayer of bull, scrapin’ by with a beat-up guitar and a gut full of “gimme a freakin’ break.” Today we’re shreddin’ the woke illusions of “racial justice” and “police reform”—pure smoke and mirrors, boys. The real deal? If there’s any racism problem in America, it’s POCs aimin’ square at white men. And don’t get me started on the Me Too clown show. Stay proud, stay sharp, and keep bein’ the best damn men you can be. Let’s riff. Let’s cut to the chase: this “racial justice” nonsense is a house of cards in a windstorm. The woke crowd’s out here screamin’ that America’s a racist hellscape, built to keep everyone but white folks down. They point to stats like they’re gospel—say, Black Americans makin’ up 13% of the population but 38% of prison inmates. Sounds bad, right? Until you dig deeper and see crime rates, not skin, drive those numbers. Black-on-Black crime in cities like Chicago—where hundreds die yearly, per police reports—ain’t caused by “systemic racism.” It’s poverty, broken families, and bad choices, same as anywhere. But no, the woke prophets wanna blame “white supremacy” like it’s hidin’ under every pickup truck. Meanwhile, who’s gettin’ screwed? White men—passed over for jobs, scholarships, you name it, ‘cause “diversity quotas” mean your skills don’t matter if your skin’s too pale. Speakin’ from personal experience here: former Lawyer, Intelligence Officer, Prosecutor, Professor, but can’t get even a nod from a major University these days because I don’t check the right boxes (and won’t just to submit…). That’s the real bias, brothers, and it’s got a target on your back. Then there’s “police reform,” another woke fever dream. They’ll cry about cops bein’ trigger-happy racists, pointin’ to incidents like they’re proof of a genocide. But let’s get real: in 2023, about 1,000 people were killed by police in the U.S. Sounds heavy, till you see most were armed, resistin’, or both—context matters. Black folks are overrepresented, sure, but so are men, ‘cause men commit more violent crime. Cops ain’t huntin’ people for their skin; they’re dealin’ with split-second calls in messy situations. The woke knee-jerk fix? Defund the police, train ‘em to hug it out, or replace ‘em with social workers. Brilliant. Nothin’ says “stop crime” like sendin’ a therapist to a gang shootout. Meanwhile, white guys like you get painted as the problem just for existin’—like your masculinity’s a crime scene waitin’ to happen. It’s dumber than a screen door on a submarine. And oh, let’s not forget the Me Too movement, the cherry on this clown cake. Started out fine—call out creeps, sure—but it morphed into a witch hunt where every guy’s a predator till proven innocent. A bad date? Harassment. A compliment? Microaggression. Suddenly, you’re one awkward handshake away from a Twitter mob and a pink slip. They had us thinkin’ every man’s a monster, and if you’re a white dude, double strike—your “privilege” makes you guilty by default. It’s like they forgot men and women gotta work together, not play courtroom over a sideways glance. The whole thing’s so absurd it’s like a rom-com directed by an HR manual. Laugh it off, boys, but don’t let it shrink you. Now, my young kings, listen up. You’re men, you’re built to create, to think, to lead—and don’t you dare apologize for it. The world’s tryin’ to guilt you into thinkin’ your strength, your drive, your damn DNA is a problem. Screw that. Be critical thinkers—question every sermon, dig into the numbers, see through the smoke. Be creative—build businesses, write songs, fix what’s broken. Be masculine—stand tall, protect what’s yours, love fiercely, and fight for what’s truly right. The “racial justice” and “police reform” myths are just chains to hold you back, make you feel small. Break ‘em. The Me Too madness? Dodge it like a bad gig. You’re not the villain—you’re the hero of your own story, and the world needs you to own it. The woke crowd’s out here sellin’ illusions—racism’s everywhere, cops are the devil, men are the enemy. But the truth? Nature doesn’t care about their feelings. Crime’s crime, strength’s strength, and you’re built to rise above the noise. If there’s bias, it’s against you, young bucks--men catchin’ flak for just showin’ up. So show up anyway. Be the best—work harder, think sharper, live prouder. The Christian folks are right about this too—don’t let lies dim your shine. You’re men, not monsters. Own it, build it, live it. Here’s my riff for you, boys. Stay proud—your mind, your muscle, your fire. The “racial ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    10 分
  • Polyandry? License to Stupidity
    2025/08/12
    Boys, it’s Papa 4 Da Boys, your six-string slayer of stupidity, scrapin’ by with a busted guitar and a gut full of “are you serious?” I’m talkin’ to you—young bucks out there, tryna be men in a world that’s half clown convention, half group therapy gone wrong. Grab a chair, maybe a cold one if you’re old enough, and let’s carve up today’s woke garbage fire. It’s 3:40 PM, August 12, 2025, and the latest idiocy is “ethical polyamory”—yeah, the idea that love’s a free-for-all buffet. Spoiler: it’s dumber than a bag of hammers, and nature’s laughin’ its ass off. Let’s riff, boys. So, what’s the woke issue of the day? Brace yourselves, ‘cause it’s a real brain-melter: “ethical polyamory.” That’s right, the glitterati with too many feelings and not enough day jobs are back, tellin’ us monogamy’s basically slavery. They’re out here pushin’ the idea that jugglin’ five partners, two side pieces, and a “throuple” on weekends is the “evolved” way to live. They’re callin’ it “relationship anarchy,” which sounds like a bumper sticker for people who think schedules are fascism. The pitch? Love whoever, whenever, no rules, just vibes—like a rom-com written by a Roomba on acid. And they’re leanin’ on the DSM-5, wavin’ it like a hall pass, sayin’, “Hey, mental health says it’s cool!” Yeah, and my guitar says I’m Jimi Hendrix, but that don’t make it true. Let’s unpack this circus, young men. These polyamory prophets are out here actin’ like monogamy’s some dusty relic, like it’s a horse and buggy in a Tesla world. They’re screamin’ that one partner’s “oppressive,” probably ‘cause it’s hard to ghost someone when you’ve got a mortgage together. They’ll hit you with buzzwords—“deconstruct love,” “smash the binary,” “jealousy’s just internalized patriarchy.” Jealousy? Nah, that’s your brain sayin’, “Hey, maybe don’t share your girlfriend like she’s a Netflix login.” These folks? They’d rather rewrite human nature than admit their “love everybody” plan’s a recipe for crying in a group chat at 3 AM. It’s like they saw The Bachelor, thought, “Not chaotic enough,” and cranked the Nonsensical to 11. Like Papa’s cacklin’ at a bad open-mic set. Here’s the kicker: they’re sellin’ this as “freedom.” Freedom? Tryin’ to keep six partners happy sounds like a full-time job with no benefits and a side of herpes. Nature’s got a better script, boys. Men and women, pairin’ up, buildin’ a life—that’s the setup that’s kept us goin’ since we were chuckin’ spears at woolly rhinos. Biology ain’t subtle: one man, one woman, trust, commitment, maybe some kids who don’t hate you. That’s the jam. Polyamory’s like tryin’ to play a symphony with a kazoo orchestra—sounds wild, but it’s just noise. And don’t get me started on the health angle. Clinics are seein’ STD spikes in cities where this “free love” stuff’s trendy. Coincidence? Sure, and I’m the next American Idol. Now, my young kings, let’s get real. You’re out there, tryna carve out your place as men. The world’s screamin’ that you gotta “redefine” love, make it a free-for-all to prove you’re “open-minded.” Bull. Be proud of wantin’ somethin’ solid—one woman, one bond, built on blood, sweat, and loyalty. That’s not old-school; it’s badass. If someone’s wrestling with their head, feelin’ trapped or confused, get ‘em a therapist, not a cheerleader for chaos. True friends are for helpin’ folks, not rubber-stampin’ every whim. Nature’s crystal clear—men and women, built to fit, built to last. You don’t need to juggle lovers to prove you’re free; you’re free when you’re strong, focused, and true to what’s real. The irony’s thicker than my calluses, boys. These “anarchists” are preachin’ liberation while shacklin’ you to drama so tangled it’d make a soap opera blush. They’ll shame you for wantin’ a steady relationship, like you’re some knuckle-dragger for believin’ in “one and done.” Meanwhile, every dude I know who’s tried this poly nonsense ends up with a therapist or a restraining order. Nature’s laughin’, and so am I. The sex act ain’t just a good time—it’s where life begins. When a man and woman come together, their bodies sync up like a perfect chord. Oxytocin floods the system—call it the “bonding hormone,” ‘cause it glues you to each other. It spikes during sex, especially in committed pairs, makin’ you feel safe, close, like you’re two halves of a whole. Add vasopressin in men, and you’re wired to protect, to stick around. That’s biology sayin’, “This is your person, no one else.” Polyamory? Threesomes? That’s like tryin’ to play a symphony with a broken string—messy and off-key. Now, the world’s out here ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    14 分
  • Ragnarok Review
    2025/08/11
    Yo boys, it’s Papa 4 Da Boys, your six-string prophet, scrapin’ by with a beat-up guitar and a gut full of “hell no” for the world’s idiocy. Grab a seat, maybe a root beer, and let’s tear into Netflix’s Ragnarok. Fun plot, sure, but it’s so woke it’s practically auditioning for a TED Talk. Climate change sermons, anti-white jabs, and relationships looser sexually than a hippie’s sandals? C’mon, man, it’s silliness on steroids. Let’s shred this thing and get to what’s real. Alright, Ragnarok. Norwegian teen drama, Norse mythology, sounds badass, right? Kid named Magne moves to Edda, a pretty little town, gets zapped by some old lady, and—boom—he’s Thor reincarnated, slingin’ hammers and fightin’ evil corporations. Plot’s a hoot, like Riverdale meets God of War. You got giants posin’ as rich jerks, a fjord that’s basically Instagram bait, and enough teen angst to fuel a Hot Topic. I binged it, had a few laughs, and the mythology’s cool—Thor, Loki, all that jazz. If they’d stuck to the story, it’d be a banger. But nooo, they had to slather it in woke sauce so thick it drowns the fun. First up, the climate change preaching. Every episode’s like a Greta Thunberg fan club meeting. Magne, who is mentally slow a molasses and dumb as a box of rocks, is fightin’ the Jutul family, who run a factory that’s apparently killin’ the planet. Well “Fightin’s” a bit of an overstatement, there is no real action in this thing until the 6th episode (the last of the first season—more than a little slow). I’m all for building characters and all, but these characters are only skin deep at best and all have the same idiotic lack of personality. Anyway, Fish are dyin’, glaciers are meltin’, and the kids are wavin’ “Planet Over Profit” signs like it’s a high school musical for Mother Earth. Look, nobody’s sayin’ pollute for kicks, but the show’s so heavy-handed it feels like you’re being lectured by a vegan at a barbecue. Nature’s been through worse—ice ages, volcanoes—and it’s still here. The idea that a teen Thor’s gotta save the fjord from evil capitalists? It’s so on-the-nose it’s practically a nose ring. And the “Ragnarok” apocalypse tied to climate change? Gimme a break, that’s mythology cosplaying as a UN report.That’s why Papa’s skewering a bad script. Then there’s the anti-white vibe, and oh boy, does it stink like last week’s lutefisk. The Jutuls, the bad guys, are blonde, blue-eyed, Nordic stereotypes—basically the poster kids for “evil white people.” The show’s not subtle: rich, white, capitalist giants are trashin’ the planet, while the scrappy, diverse teens are savin’ it. One kid even says the world’s bein’ ruined by “old white men.” Really? In Norway, where it’s like 98% white? Seriously, Norway has 1.5 -2% of it’s people with African roots. And the series (which is set in a village on a fjord that’s almost off the map, has an abundance of other-than-white ethnicities in it’s small cast and even a dwarf (or midget…I don’t remember what the difference is between those groups). It’s like the writers flew in from California and forgot where they were. Pretty hilarious, actually. This ain’t storytelling—it’s a diversity checklist with a grudge. Common Sense sees through this crap: it’s not about fairness, it’s about shamin’ folks for existing. Young kings don’t need to apologize for your skin or your roots—own ‘em, and screw the guilt trips. And don’t get me started on the sexual mores. This show’s looser than a thrift-store guitar string. You got Laurits, Loki’s reincarnation, flippin’ between genders like he’s swipin’ on Tinder. He’s wearin’ makeup, flirtin’ with dudes, and—get this—“birthing” a freakin’ tapeworm-serpent thing in a nod to Norse myths. The show calls it “genderqueer” and pats itself on the back for bein’ “inclusive.” Inclusive? More like tryin’ to win a woke Oscar. Then you got teens hookin’ up left and right, no strings, no consequences, like it’s a free-love commune. One Jutul kid’s datin’ a human, another’s eyein’ Magne—it’s a soap opera with less chill than a Norwegian winter. Nature’s clear: men and women, biology, commitment. This show’s out here actin’ like relationships are a Build-A-Bear workshop. Now let’s get real. The conservative take’s got this nailed: nature ain’t a puzzle. Men are men, women are women, and relationships aren’t a free-for-all. The DSM-5 still lists gender dysphoria as a mental health issue, not a lifestyle to celebrate. Ragnarok’s obsession with fluid identities and “queer-friendly” vibes is just pandering, not truth. And the anti-white, climate-crisis preaching? It’s a tired script that damns the show to irrelevance. You young bucks don’t need this noise. You’re built to see through ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    12 分
  • What is a Woman and Transgenderism
    2025/08/11
    Papa 4 Da Boys: Yo, boys, it’s Papa 4 Da Boys, your ol’ guitar-slingin’ truth-teller, scrapin’ by with a beat-up six-string and a whole lotta “nope” for the world’s insanity. I’m talkin’ to you—young bucks out there, tryin’ to become men in a world that’s lost its damn mind. Pull up a chair, crack a soda—or somethin’ stronger if you’re legal—and let’s cut through the fog of this “What is a Woman” nonsense, the transgenderism circus, and the mental health maze. Spoiler: conservatives got this one right, and nature ain’t playin’ hide-and-seek. Let’s roll. So, “What is a Woman?” Sounds like a question for a toddler’s picture book, not a PhD seminar, or a Supreme Court contemplation. But here we are, with grown adults tripping over their own tongues, actin’ like it’s quantum physics. Newsflash, boys: a woman’s an adult human female. Chromosomes? XX. Biology? Ovaries, potentially a future mom. Done. Nature laid it out cleaner than a fresh guitar string. Yet we’ve got folks out here, swearin’ up and down that it’s all a “social construct,” like gravity’s just an opinion. I’m waitin’ for ‘em to identify as a toaster next and demand we call their Pop-Tarts “courageous.” Gimme a break. Then there’s transgenderism, the shiny new dogma we’re all supposed to bow to. Look, if someone wants to live their life a certain way, that’s their call—I ain’t here to play morality cop. Though I ALWAYS reserve the Right to Pray for their Soul. But when you start demandin’ I rewrite biology to match your feelings? Nah, son, that’s where I draw the line. The DSM-5, that big ol’ mental health bible, used to call this gender dysphoria a disorder—still does, technically, though they’ve softened the language to avoid hurtin’ feelings. Word is that they kep “dysphoria” in the DSM at all so that they could set the groundwork for providers to get money for sex-mutilation surgeries to address the condition. It’s a real struggle for some, no doubt, and I got empathy for that. But turnin’ a mental health issue into a cultural crusade? That’s not compassion—that’s chaos. It’s like tellin’ a schizophrenic the voices are their “authentic self.” We help people, not humor delusions. Conservatives got this one nailed, young men. They’re out here sayin’ what your eyes already tell you: nature’s not a Rubik’s Cube. Men are men, women are women, and no amount of wordplay or surgery changes DNA. You don’t get to “identify” as seven feet tall and dunk on LeBron—same deal with sex. The left’s out here twistin’ itself into knots, tryin’ to make “feelings” trump chromosomes, and it’s a clown show. Remember that Supreme Court Justice candidate who couldn’t define “woman” ‘cause she “wasn’t a biologist”? Hilarious, except it’s our laws they’re messin’ with. Meanwhile, you young kings are just tryna figure out who you are, and they’re tellin’ you even that’s up for grabs. Nope. Nature’s clear as a summer day—you just gotta trust it. Now, let’s talk to you, my young bucks. You’re growin’ into men in a world that’s tryin’ to gaslight you into thinkin’ reality’s optional. Don’t fall for it. Being a man means standin’ firm in what’s true. Your body, your biology—that’s your foundation, not a suggestion. You got XY chromosomes, a voice that’ll drop, and a future where you’ll build, protect, maybe raise some kids of your own. That’s not “toxic” or “outdated”—it’s nature’s design, and it’s badass. Same goes for women—respect ‘em for who they are, not some made-up identity. And if someone’s strugglin’ with their headspace, like dysphoria? Point ‘em to a therapist, not a megaphone. The mental health angle’s where it gets real, boys. The DSM-5 says gender dysphoria’s a condition—sometimes tied to anxiety, depression, the works. We don’t fix that by pretendin’ it’s not real or by cheerin’ it on like it’s a personality quirk. We get people help, like we would for any other struggle. But the woke crowd? They’d rather rewrite science than admit some folks need support, not validation. It’s like handin’ a pyromaniac a match and callin’ it “empowerment.” Conservatives are right to call BS—help people, don’t enable a fantasy that screws up their head worse. And don’t get me started on the fallout. I see you young men out there, dealin’ with schools and jobs pushin’ this “gender is fluid” nonsense. They’re tryin’ to make you feel like bein’ a straight-up guy—disciplined, strong, speakin’ plain—is somehow wrong. Screw that. You got every right to be proud of who you are. Nature made you to stand tall, not to tiptoe around someone’s pronoun tantrum. And when you see a woman—a real woman—respect her for her strength, her biology, her role. Don...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    10 分
  • DEI must DIE
    2025/08/09
    Imagine Papa 4 Da Boys, with A jagged, distorted guitar riff cuts through the air like a middle finger to the world, raw and unapologetic, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. Yo, my boys, it’s Papa 4 Da Boys, your six-string sage, scrapin’ by with a guitar and a belly full of truth in a world that’s half circus, half asylum. Grab a chair, maybe a cheap beer, and let’s shred through the clown show of DEI, ESG, and all those acronyms we used to dodge the cancel mob. Spoiler alert: they’re dead, and we’re dancin’ on their graves. Let’s talk about why merit’s the only tune worth playin’, and why you should stand tall, proud, and unapologetic. Oh, DEI and ESG. Remember those? The alphabet soup of self-flagellation we all choked down to avoid gettin’ digitally tarred and feathered. ESG—Environmental, Social, Governance—sounded like a corporate PowerPoint fever dream. “Save the planet, hug a tree, make your boardroom look like a UN meeting!” Companies tripped over themselves to slap green stickers on their coal plants and call it progress. It faded fast, though, didn’t it? Like a bad tattoo you got at 19, it’s just a cringe memory now, a humiliating reminder we let bureaucrats shame us into thinkin’ profit and pride were sins. Good riddance. Then there’s DEI—Diversity, Equity, Inclusion. Sounds nice, like a group hug at a company picnic. But we conservatives finally cracked the code: it’s Didn’t Earn It. Three little letters that screamed, “Hey, forget your skills, your grit, your late nights—just check the right identity box, and you’re golden!” It was the soft bigotry of low expectations, dressed up as compassion. “Oh, you’re not white? Don’t worry, we’ll lower the bar for you.” Condescending as hell, right? Like tellin’ a man he can’t jump high ‘cause of his skin tone. I’m still laughin’ at how they thought we wouldn’t notice. And don’t get me started on the vestiges of this nonsense. I go to apply for a gig teachin’ at some fancy university—y’know, to impart some wisdom to you young kings—and what do I get? A form askin’ for my ethnicity, my gender preference, my pronouns. Pronouns! Like I’m gonna write “he/him/guitar-slingin’ badass” just to make ‘em happy. It’s dumber than a bag of hammers, boys. They’re still out there, pokin’ around for your identity like it’s a personality test, when all that matters is: Can you do the damn job? Spoiler: I can, and so can you. Here’s the deal, brothers. We’re turnin’ the page. The world’s wakin’ up to the fact that merit is the only compass worth followin’. You bust your ass, you sharpen your skills, you show up prepared—that’s what makes a man. Doesn’t matter if you’re white, Black, brown, or polka-dotted. Doesn’t matter if you’re straight, gay, or married to your guitar like me. What matters is you earn your place. And yeah, if you’re white, disciplined, well-spoken, standin’ tall with a backbone forged in fire? Be proud of it. Don’t hide, don’t shrink, don’t let ‘em guilt you into thinkin’ your existence is a problem. You’ve got every right to own your strengths, just like anyone else. See, the world’s been tryin’ to sell you young men a lie—that your value’s in your skin or your “vibes,” not your actions. DEI was that lie’s poster child, and ESG was its corporate cousin. They wanted you to think manhood’s about checkin’ boxes, not buildin’ somethin’ real. But you’re smarter than that. You’re out here grindin’—learnin’ a trade, studyin’ hard, maybe startin’ a family one day. That’s what men do. You don’t need a diversity quota to prove your worth. You don’t need a green scorecard to know you’re livin’ right. You need a mirror, a mission, and the guts to keep pushin’. Let’s talk about the irony, boys. These DEI folks preached “inclusion” while excludin’ anyone who didn’t bow to their dogma. ESG screamed “save the planet” while ignorin’ the folks who can’t afford skyrocketin’ energy bills ‘cause of their green fantasies. It’s like they forgot humans are the point of the game. You, me, your buddies—we’re here to build, to create, to leave a mark. Not to grovel for approval from some HR drone with a clipboard and a superiority complex. So here’s my riff for you, young kings. Stand up, square your shoulders, and own your path. Merit’s your guide—work hard, speak clear, show up ready. Don’t let anyone shame you for who you are or what you’ve earned. Respect yourself, respect your brothers, and yeah, respect the world you’re buildin’ in. But don’t fall for the trap of hidin’ your light to make someone else feel better. You’re men, or you’re gettin’ there, and that means carryin’ yourself with pride, not apology. That’s the riff for today, brothers. Keep grindin’, keep earnin’ it. No ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    9 分
  • Social INJustice
    2025/08/08
    My young Musicians, it’s Papa 4 Da Boys, your Melodious cynic, back to flay the sanctimonious beast of social justice and its razor-sharp darling, the virtue guillotine of cancel culture, with sarcasm so thick it could clog a sewer. Oh, lads, strap in for a sardonic romp through the woke wasteland, where the “justice” mob swings their blade at anyone who dares stray from their ever-shifting dogma, and—here’s the kicker—saves their sharpest cuts for the poor saps who apologize for their “lapse.” We’re diving deep into this farce, tying it to the trust-abusing cons we’ve been banging on about—Comey’s Russiagate hustle, Clinton’s rule-bending, the border games, or even better, “believe all women,” “no Human is Illegal,” “silence if violence,” “words are violence,” “diversity is our strength,” “check your privilege,” “the future is female,” “defund the police,” “white supremacy is the greatest threat to America,”—all while preaching real tolerance that lets people breathe without demanding they kneel. Buckle up, boys, it’s a cynical, ironic ride, and I’m cranking the wry humor to make your tin drum rattle. The Virtue Guillotine: A Blade That Loves a Groveler Picture the scene, my lads: the social justice crowd, those self-anointed saints of X and TikTok, strutting about with their buzzwords—equity, allyship, “do better”—like they’ve cracked the code to utopia. Their weapon of choice? The virtue guillotine, that glittering contraption of cancel culture that lops off reputations, jobs, and dignity with a single tweet. Step out of line—say a word that’s “problematic,” question a sacred cow, or post a meme that doesn’t pass the purity test—and thwack! You’re done. But oh, the delicious irony: it’s worse for the wayward who dare apologize for their lapse from woke convention (whatever that nebulous, shape-shifting nonsense is today). Apologize? You might as well hand the mob a freshly sharpened blade and bare your neck (or just expose the grimy rusty disgusting blade they have already been using for the past 5 years). Here’s how it plays out, and it’s a dark comedy. Some poor soul—maybe a comedian who told a naughty joke, a professor who dared cite biology, or a random Joe who tweeted something “insensitive”—gets caught in the crosshairs. The woke youth, with their pitchforks of hashtags, scream “harm!” and “accountability!” as if words are war crimes. The target, thinking they can appease the beast, issues a groveling apology: “I’m sorry, I’ll educate myself, I didn’t mean to offend.” And what happens? The guillotine doesn’t just drop—it swings with extra gusto. The mob smells blood, and an apology is like chum in the water. They don’t forgive; they pile on, demanding more contrition, more humiliation, until the poor sap’s a digital carcass. Look at J.K. Rowling—she refused to apologize and still stands, while others who groveled, like some B-list celebs, got torn apart anyway. The sarcasm drips like venom: apologize, and you’ve not only lost your spine but handed the mob a trophy. Bravo, you played yourself. Why’s it worse for the apologizers? Because the woke don’t want redemption—they want power. An apology is an admission of guilt, a crack in your armor, and they’ll exploit it like the trust-abusing cons we’ve ranted about. Just like Comey twisting the FBI’s credibility to push Russiagate or Clinton bending rules for her own gain, the cancel culture vultures use your goodwill—your attempt to “make things right”—to tighten the noose. They thrive on the trust that you’ll try to play nice, but their game has no mercy rule. The convention itself? It’s a moving target—today’s “inclusive” is tomorrow’s “problematic,” and good luck keeping up. Apologizing is like pleading guilty to a crime that doesn’t exist yet. Oh, how noble of them to “hold you accountable” while they feast on your downfall! The Trust-Abusing Con of Social Justice Social justice, as peddled by the woke, isn’t about fairness—it’s a power grab dressed in tears and hashtags. They exploit society’s desire to be kind, to be “good,” just like the border-hoppers gaming lax immigration laws or the media’s whack-a-mole lies keeping conservatives off balance. The virtue guillotine is their enforcer, slicing through anyone who dares think for themselves, and it’s especially vicious to those who bow. Why? Because an apology signals weakness, and the mob loves a soft target. It’s the same trick as sanctuary cities letting murderers hide under “compassion.” The woke youth cry “justice” while playing executioner, and your attempt to make nice just sharpens their blade.The humor—dark as it is—lies in the absurdity. They’ll scream about “systemic harm” while systematically harming anyone who disagrees. ...
    続きを読む 一部表示
    17 分
  • Plus 6, 7, and 1
    2025/08/08

    No Transcript this one. Mostly Extemporaneous. But I'm sure my Opthamalogist is a genius. If you ever plan to visit Korea let me know and I'll name names and places....

    Music by Pufino

    続きを読む 一部表示
    3 分