If you call me a stormcuck I WILL CRY so just don't even!!
In all seriousness, I'd say you need a history book on, oh, any civilization, ever. But that would be to incorrectly assume that your problem is ignorance and not an agenda of keeping uppity white sex-havers in check.
The more I argue with you, the better I come to know your dialectic. First you count on the stupidity of your adversary, and then, when there is no other way out, you yourself simply play stupid. If all this doesn't help, you pretend not to understand, or, if challenged, you change the subject in a hurry, quoting platitudes which, if I accept them, immediately relate to entirely different matters, and then, if again attacked, give ground and pretend not to know exactly what you are talking about. Whenever I try engage with one such apostle, my hand closes on a jelly-like slime which divides up and poures through my fingers, but in the next moment collected again.
But if I really strike you so telling a blow that, observed by the audience, you can't help but agree, and if I believe that this has taken you at least one step forward, my amazement is great the next day. The gatekeeper has not the slightest recollection of the day before, you rattle off the same old nonsense as though nothing at all has happened, and, if indignantly challenged, affecting amazement; you can't remember a thing, except that you have proved the correctness of your assertions the previous day.
If you call me a stormcuck I WILL CRY so just don't even!!
In all seriousness, I'd say you need a history book on, oh, any civilization, ever. But that would be to incorrectly assume that your problem is ignorance and not an agenda of keeping uppity white sex-havers in check.
Lol okay Imp, so I should work out the following?
▪︎women are life's disney cartoon villain
▪︎they are the only such villain, bigot
▪︎race never had anything to do with civilization
Thanks. Yknow it's a talent to take something evvvveryone agrees on as much as "fuckin broads, man" and polarize it so well.
The more I argue with you, the better I come to know your dialectic. First you count on the stupidity of your adversary, and then, when there is no other way out, you yourself simply play stupid. If all this doesn't help, you pretend not to understand, or, if challenged, you change the subject in a hurry, quoting platitudes which, if I accept them, immediately relate to entirely different matters, and then, if again attacked, give ground and pretend not to know exactly what you are talking about. Whenever I try engage with one such apostle, my hand closes on a jelly-like slime which divides up and poures through my fingers, but in the next moment collected again.
But if I really strike you so telling a blow that, observed by the audience, you can't help but agree, and if I believe that this has taken you at least one step forward, my amazement is great the next day. The gatekeeper has not the slightest recollection of the day before, you rattle off the same old nonsense as though nothing at all has happened, and, if indignantly challenged, affecting amazement; you can't remember a thing, except that you have proved the correctness of your assertions the previous day.