Much of our e-rage ain’t nothin’ but temper tantrums dressed up in hackneyed platitudes and intellectual posturing intended to sting the people we didn’t have the balls to go after at the time they were comin’ after us; all emboldened by hand-selected, aggressively pandering, pitchfork-wielding mobs who take up residence in our ‘thought ghettos’; dead-end places blighted by dismissiveness and a highly addictive substance called myopia.


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