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Wrecked ‘Em suggests an old Roman tradition could serve well the modern day West.
During a Roman Triumph it was traditional for a slave to ride with the victor and whisper to him reminders of how fleeting is glory and how short is life. In Latin this was called “memento mori”.
I propose that we resurrect the memento mori for the hot young ladies in our society. A coming-out parade, of sorts, where the ladies will ride in cars accompanied by an old woman who will whisper to them things like, “By 40 you will be invisible to men” and “You’ll be over 40 for more than half your life” and “At 55 the only things that will bring you joy are your children and grandchildren; not your career, not your travels, nor your accomplishments.”
For now, the cloaked figures of the House of Heartiste will release those whispers into the ethernettian winds, assuming the duties of the mothers and grandmothers who have shirked theirs.
Runner-up COTW is Matthew King, disgorging a wallop of righteous bile,
We elevate the subhuman and inanimate to idol status, like sports, politics, pop-star vapidities, and here especially, masturbating into latex gripped by the dryboxes of disaffected wigger club whores on permanent vacation from daddy. Kakocratic paganism.
The hate is strong in this one. Excellent. To extract such id-ious concessions from a man wrapped in the cloth is, in a word, delicious.