“If women were in charge, there would be no war!,” hissed the penis-envious feminist pawns of patriarchs, omitting that their only strategy for vulva-centric hegemony — was to murder their way to utopia.
“Targeted terrorism against children with Down Syndrome” — the freedumb cry of the tiny isle that prided itself as the first people led by a dyke; as the scrogs and mows got pwned by volcanoes — like the bitches they are.
Total gender parity, total mental unity, forced female sterility, targeted female infanticide: In the self-murder capital of the world, full of slant-eyed, small-dick, ass-less, chinks.
And in the pale and pallid nation that invented liberty, diversity and freedom — as trade-marks, intellectual property, and slogans: The commodification of men, women, children, kikes, dykes, faggots, spics, micks, mongrels, and niggers: It all imploded, when hungry-ghost cannibals began progressively eating alive each other, even themselves — only to die starved.
And so, to the extent patriarchs strategically let women pretend leadership over the men’s competition: Indeed, there was no war — internationally: Only the ongoing civil war of anti-nature sands, seeking to murder their way to utopia in their own lands.
And as they faded, the doomed fools focused less on clear descriptions of their decline than they focused on random dog-whistles, purposed to reinforce vain tribalism, manufactured by their executioners, on the Expanded Plantation.