There’s no quicker way to get a cynic like myself to never bother speaking to you again than to respond to an absolute truth I have laid down for you with, “bullshit!” Hmm. You already seem to have an answer to the question. Sure, it’s your answer and not at all reflective of reality. But you get my point. Why exactly would you ask someone to “talk”, and then when they talk, shoot everything they say right back down, then listen to yourself talk? Do you think that talk is productive? You think the person’s walking away from the drive-by condescension thinking, “gee I sure am a more rounded person now that I have time now to reflect on how wrong I am, as usual.” No, dipshit. They’re thinking, “Great. Can’t wait for the next ‘talk!’ Sure I’m gonna learn a lot. Much wisdom to learn, or something.”
Bottom line, if you’re not going to shut the fuck up, open up your closed little mind, and accept the input you’re asking for, don’t motherfucking ask for it, you brain dead twat. What’s the point of that?! To cause emotion abuse or something? Is your dick like three inches? The fuck is your problem?! Why would you condition someone into thinking every single fucking time you approach them with anything, “Oh, here comes baby with his bottle. He sure knows what he thinks he knows and yea. It’s a lot.” Especially if they’re your kids, that makes it even more despicable. They’re supposed to be able to talk to you about anything, yet getting through to you is more difficult than punching through granite. Do you think you’re a good person? Do you think people say good things about you behind your back? Do you honestly believe you’ve contributed something to society other than misery? You don’t. You just do a lot of thinking, but very little realizing. When you come up with your own little theories to things, you just conclude them as being so, then go out on a witch hunt, trying to bend and twist the minds of motherfuckers and make them admit to things they didn’t do just to get you to go the fuck away. You’re a black hole of need. A perpetual, wannabe-victim. Your kids probably fucking loathe you if you have any, and rightfully so. All you do is torture them with, get this: … bullshit.
Kids don’t thrive in environments that feed them nothing but bullshit, they just grow up to be misanthropic monsters. God forbid the stupid fucks have a kid by accident like you probably did. You know their kids are only gonna turn out even shittier. Must be nice to spread your genes so carelessly. Thanks, feminism. You really know how to engineer happy, high-functioning, supportive families capable of compassion and empathy, instead of oh more greed? Wow. Nice. Wonderful. Awesome. Super. I was hoping you could be a victim a little while longer. I was hoping you were gonna brush my problems off like they’re nothing a little longer, so we could get down to brass tax and talk more about pour you.
I actually hate this postmodern, promiscuous, leftist echo chamber, victim-blaming, divorce culture so fucking much, it makes me hate myself a little. Because I was born in it. Sculpted the wrong way by people who couldn’t give a god fucking damn less what I think. What’s especially cute is that all these cunts are now turning around and wondering, “why is Mitchell Tate such an asshole?”
But, remember Timmy. Everything’s your fault. You ought to expect my shitty shenaningans and prepare mentally for them—Timmy mah boy. Roar, testosterone. Fuck boundaries, woo. “Man” of the house, errr some shit.