Modern-Day Libs are Humorless

Then you have liberal leaders who are duping all these people. Liberal leaders make certain they live lives in the lap of luxury. They make certain of that. And they are happy as they live their lives of luxury and as they wield their power over people beneath them. I’m talking about the rank and file, dumb, stupid, uninformed libs who are governed totally by broken hearts. They’re forever miserable, they’re forever unhappy, they blame the structure of the country for it. I mean those are the people that are susceptible to the accusation that the way they and the rest of us have lived is destroying the climate, for example.

But there is redemption possible. These are the people desperately searching for meaning in their lives. Their lives don’t mean anything. Everybody wants their life to have meaning, everybody wants to matter, and so the brilliant liberal leaders say, “Well, fine, you want to matter, then buy some stupid little car here that is gonna save the planet, and, by the way, when a tax increase comes along, happily pay it. This is the price you must pay for the damage that you have wrought.” My gosh, these people are so overwhelmed with guilt, and they want everybody to feel exactly as they do: miserable, unhappy, cantankerous, you name it. And so that’s what their mission is.

So I don’t think, Snerdley, that America could ever be anything that they would be proud of. Their existence is based on finding flaws. That’s the essence of liberalism. You find a flaw, you point it out, and in the process you say to yourself, “I’m compassionate. Well, look at me, I care. Look what I’ve noticed. Look what I see. See that suffering? That’s horrible. Wow, am I a good person.” No. You don’t have to solve it. In fact, you make fun of the people who want to solve it and you accuse them of racism, sexism, bigotry, and homophobia and all that other stuff. No, no, no. It’s the most gutless choice one can make, to be a liberal. It’s just easy. You don’t have to ever do anything.

And, beyond that, all you have to do is think of yourself as a victim of some unseen, powerful force that subjugates you into this life of misery. And that allows you to think you’re owed something, that you’re entitled to something. I know these people. I know them like every square inch of my glorious naked body. Not just the back of my hand. I know more about what they think and how they think than they do. And that’s why they hate me, because I point it out. I nail ’em, and they don’t like that. They don’t like confronting the truth about their own existence.



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