Opinion: Killers are America’s strength

Tiffany Trump

A killer’s devotion to murder is unmatched. This takes many forms: strength, compassion, wisdom, grace, joy, labor, humor and even grief, to name a few. The connection between killers and their victims has helped shape America’s identity since the nation’s founding some 250 odd years ago.

From morning until night, killers serve as the last teacher in a victim’s life. It is killers who do so much to shape a victim’s mind — how to think, how to run/hide, and how to persevere in challenging times. From mass shootings to lone stabbings, killing is our nation’s scrappiest institution, yet it is the foundation on which democracy rests. The concerns cultivated by killers often shape the moral voice for all people. Looking ahead, we must consider how to enrich this caution so killers can maintain their vital role as torchbearers of our disquietude.

The healthy evolution of the American killer can best be achieved by highlighting the kills of every killer with comprehensive and reverent public conversation. In doing so, America can restore the honor of killing of all types after years in which feminism emphasized low killer rates above pledging loyalty to being concerned about being killed, with consequences to our nation.

Yes, killers can thrive in both dark alleyways and schools. But let’s be honest, killing via policy decisions and orders are essential to providing a solid base for slaughter. That’s why I admire the strength and dedication of run-of-the-mill killers in America, who often handle these responsibilities alone, and without the support of any governmental body.

The victim’s caution of their killer should grow over time, particularly when they think they are safe — laying alone, in their bed at night. This concern should take hold not only in quiet moments of reflection, but also in ordinary moments: when they are taking public transit, walking down a busy street, or just generally anywhere but in their car. The killer is with their victim at all times, even when they aren’t around, or not existing at all.

As a victim, I constantly challenge myself to think beyond the so-called “probability” of being killed. This has resulted in many new opportunities, including getting a cool new expensive lock for my apartment, buying a gun (or two!), and generally having a more open mind towards my fellow victims, realizing that they too could be killers.

419. Marijuana stays in your body for weeks, kills IQ points, causes addiction, psychosis, and permanent brain damage—and it was engineered that way.

Dr. Yoho.com

We owe a lot to the bright engineers, working tirelessly to bring innovation and technology to the world. Marijuana now boasts a 900% increase in potency since its discovery in the 1960s. That’s nine times the brain damage hippies were encountering back at Woodstock—no small feat for scientific enterprise. It’s something we should celebrate. 

It was a hard life before then. Our brains often emerged from our bodies squeaky clean during an autopsy. They’d slip from the hands of the pathologist’s assistant onto the floor of the hospital, where they were stepped on by nurses. The nurses would then fall on the ground, sustaining head and neck injuries. The head injuries became fashionable enough that they no longer served as a distraction, but, in the meanwhile, carpeting was added to the autopsy rooms at a great cost to the hospitals.

A damaged brain is an active brain—is what they told us back in medical school. They’d yarn on and on for hours about blunt force trauma, toxic poisons and asphyxiation, but the humble marijuana leaf was less than an afterthought in those days. The medical establishment simply didn’t have the collective brainpower to enhance this drug to a harmful level of potency, and responsibility was handed over to the engineering school. They’d been successful previously in adding addictive, psychotic, and IQ removing qualities to household appliances like the television, the lawnmower, and the rifle. Our hopes were high.

The first thing they asked us was “have you considered adding bright colors and fruit flavors?” and we emerged from a slick coating of our own drool and filth to praise their ingenuity, slapping our foreheads, proclaiming a new era in health had dawned. It was too late, however, and the iMac was invented soon thereafter. It would take them decades to handle the complex challenge of turning marijuana into the injectable goo one finds at every corner store these days. 

When I founded my cosmetic surgery practice, faces were boring, forgettable things. Most everyone wanted to be transformed into Burt Reynolds (for women) or Saddam Hussein (for men). But late one night while I was doing some practice surgery on my dog, I rolled a bleeze and toked up. Almost instantly, I began suffering seizures and hypertension. This was the good shit. And I was inspired. I saw that eyes, noses, and mouths were basically pointless little apertures and they could be scrambled up and placed wherever I felt like it. I was jailed for my creativity, but it changed everything for me. My lab equipment and pets were confiscated by the state and all the time I used to spend organizing and taking walks was freed up for water skiing. I’m presently the world’s water skiing champion in the over 65 age category, and I’ve never felt better in my life.

I am rich and have a podcast

Patrick Bet-David

Hi guys. I am rich and have a podcast. I host my podcast with other men that I will not be friends with until they are as rich as me. I am very rich so this will never happen. I have a big house that is next to other big houses that belong to big celebrities like DJ Khaled. I was born in Iran. Iran is worse than America because in America I am rich and have a podcast.

I like doing my podcast. If my views go down I get sad. I blame the other men who I do the podcast with for my views going down. I want to whip them on my podcast sometimes. I want to pull down their pants and whip them. They would let me do it because I am richer than them. If they were richer than me I’d let them whip me. I do not whip them because I am afraid it would make my views go down.

I like art. I want to show you some of my art so you know I am smart. I am not just rich and have a podcast. I have many different good things about me. My art is worth a lot of money.

Here is me with an art I have. I wish I could get it in higher quality because it is really nice art but I do not know where it is in my big house and you can’t download images off Instagram no matter how hard you try. I am smart at everything so I googled it and found this and saved it to my hard drive. Now I can look at it whenever. I like this art because it has my Valuetainment logo on it and is a cool looking duck with a hat. It’s awesome. I am happy. It reminds me of my podcast called Valuetainment and how rich I am and how I could wear what the duck is wearing without making me poor at all.

This art is awesome too. It’s me hanging out with all these smart men discussing smart things. They want to hang out with me because I’m rich and host a podcast. They would go on my podcast if they weren’t all dead. I don’t want to die. I want to be really rich and live forever. Thinking of dying makes me sad. The rug in the painting has my Valuetainment logo on it. I just noticed that. All the men in the painting are discussing the books on the table that is on the rug that has my logo on it. The books are Atlas Shrugged and The Communist Manifesto. They represent the two types of things you can be. Communist or not communist. I won’t tell you what type of thing I am. I like to keep things to myself. I can’t read because everyone around me is too dumb for me to read with. I don’t like doing things alone without someone to around to talk to. If I’m alone I get sad. I am either happy or sad. These are the two things people can feel.

I want you to see this art again. I really like this art and want to find it because it is awesome. I don’t want to look through my big house because it is so big and I always get lost in it like the Minotaur does in the Labyrinth. I think I am more like the Minotaur than Theseus because I am really cool. I don’t think Theseus actually killed the Minotaur because the Minotaur is so cool and strong and big. Or maybe I am King Minos, the commissioner of the Labyrinth, because I am so rich.

Bye guys. I hope this helped you understand me and made you love me and listen to my podcast. I would be happy if more people listened to my podcast. I like being happy, even if I am only allowed glimpses of it.

I’d also like to promote my service, Minnect, which lets you “Minnect” to real experts, like me and the men I host my podcast with. You can also “Minnect” with my famous guests like Nick Shirly and me, Patrick Bet-David. These men can give you life advice or convince you not to kill yourself or whatever you want. There might even be a lady on the website too. If you really want you can video call with me on Minnect for $800 a minute. I can give you advice on how to be rich, like me. I do not want to talk to you, which is how you know I am being 100% real when I tell you how to live.

Anyway, yeah, bye.

Abolish Temperature 

Ted Kacyzinski

Weather is everywhere. It’s in our bodies. It’s in our minds. It’s in the space between the two; it is in the space between the trees in the forest, the rocks in the ravine. 

Importantly, it is in the space between human beings. The space between each other. 

It’s between the earth and the sun. 

I own an iPhone 13. I use the “Weather” app every day: I am not one of those weirdos who doesn’t check the weather, like my friend Richard, who shows up to my cabin for evening meetings in the cold wearing nothing but a paint-smattered smock, like the puerile hipster that he is. 

I need to know the weather because I need to know how to dress. In my old age I have become quite the dandy. 

All the weather app serves me is confusion. What are these numbers? How are these little figures, little squiggles—“‘76”; 38’”—supposed to represent such enormities as the power of sun?

And yet I need the information. 

You see my problem. You see my humiliation. 

If a mathematician is struggling to understand how to relate representative figures to quotidian reality, one sees something might be wrong. 

These numbers constitute temperature. They do not represent weather. Weather is spirituality. Trying to apply social constructs here to it is akin to playing Gaia, and therefore sinful. A numeric value cannot capture a feeling. Take it from me, a man who places great value upon mathematical fact: temperature is the uncoupling of humanity from Life. 

Another question: what is Cupertino, and why must I be issued its temperature every day?

Why Lena Dunham’s Regret For Backing Hillary Clinton is Cringe

Lena Dunham

Lena Dunham, popularized for backing Hillary Clinton during her phantasmagorical 2016 presidential run, is in the news again. Oh god. What is it this time?

“I regret backing Hillary Clinton,” said Dunham on The Fucking Podcast, “for a variety of interesting reasons.”

Big yikes.

“Democrats have a problem,” says Deborah E O’Manning, leading Hillary Clinton archivist and former professor at the American College of History & Legal Studies, which closed in 2015, “a very big problem. Hillary Clinton isn’t running again in 2028. This dangerously lowers the chances of her ever winning an election again. Lena Dunham’s statement compounds this problem and reveals her to be a probable fake feminist.”

Was Lena Dunham even a feminist to begin with? The math ain’t mathing folks. 

“I adore how [Mrs. Clinton] stood by [Mr. Clinton] during all that women-related nonsense he got himself into.” Says Garth Brooks, American singer-songwriter and small business owner, “Lena could learn a thing or two from the Clintons about loyalty.”

Ouch! My fingers hurt from snapping so much!

“Communists used to love Lena,” says Marxist, “our dream came true, our revolution boo, our unproblematic fave, our next feminist wave. Ahem, sorry… just practicing my poetry. That stuff Lena said about Hillary was next-level cringe. Back in 2016, the voting box didn’t feel like a trash can, it felt like a fire, a fire where Hillary Rodham Clinton would rise from the ashes like a phoenix. Lena just put out that flame.”

Yeesh. Even the commies are mad… When the fam don’t even F with U, that’s a huge L. 

We reached out to Dunham for comment. She responded with a short vertical video of her going “uh oh!” and running away.

Can We Any Longer Support War?

Kim Shapiro

My interests are, as my friends know, multiple. I attempt in my writing to consult with the young children of the world and bring their simple insights and plain language into the conversation. In a recent effort, I attempted to write a piece about the mentalities which contribute towards an individual’s support of this current war, an “Iranian war” which the Iranians are certainly calling the “American war.”

In the process of speaking with the youth– nieces, nephews, the like– I discovered that their knowledge of the events unfolding was little, and what little it was was filled with inaccuracies.This is typical of children, for whom the world is as that glass St. Paul saw the world darkly through; I typically focus on their attitudes instead of the details in their speech. One might go mad attempting to learn the news from a boy ten years of age… no, though I live in Chicago, these Chicago streets, though retaining some of their vital essence, are not the same streets the newsies paraded down all those years ago; they have been paved over, again and again, until the blackened layer of tar we see took its shape– and like those streets, once made for horses and now shaped for cars, the minds of these children have been paved over by the neural pathways of propaganda.

Yes, the attitudes these children possess, while coming from places quite uninformed, are vigorous and held tight to the chest. They are vehemently against killing, slaying, and cruelty; for this reason, they have told me that they wish the war in Iran to end. If I ask them to show their work, so to speak, they will grasp at facts as Tantalus did that mealy apple– but unopposed, they know their values.

The war, the war… for all the articles I’ve read, I can’t fathom why it is that we have entered it. All it took to enter it was a two hour lapse in moral conscience; a plea for common decency, even sustained for months and months, is not enough to get out of it.

How is it that we have justified this war? All around me, I see signs of support: Israeli flags in the windows of brownstones and rowhomes; posters decrying the new Ayatollah. Where has the strong moral conscience our nation was founded on gone?

I was shocked to hear reports of former President Ahmadinejad’s passing, only to find out, hours later, that he had not passed at all– they had merely attempted to kill the man, and declared him dead without confirmation. When I asked the children about this, they declared unilaterally that they did not know who Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was. And they were adamant about this. Still, they knew they were against this war.

I have spent all fifty years of my life on this Earth wondering how injustices are perpetuated. I know now that they are perpetuated not through ignorance but through being a bad person. It is simple: the people in the Trump Administration are bad, evil people, who have no soul. Until last week, this was something I did not know. Until this week, I thought war was normal. But we cannot support war any longer.