No, we do not.
Irish Eurovision contestant Bambie Thug CRIES after losing to Israel in shocking profanity laden rant.
“It’s been so horrible for us…F**k the EBU. I don’t even care anymore. F**k them.” pic.twitter.com/PgtWlRmA95
— Oli London (@OliLondonTV) May 12, 2024
This is why you need at least a 12 pounder Napoleon loaded with grape shot.
In the followup tweet her compatriots looked like extras from Zoolander. Satire is not supposed to come to life
https://x.com/just_rad/status/1789500782787867009?s=46
Just shaking my head.
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This is what happens, I suppose, when life becomes too easy, for too many, for too long.
(For some reason the edit button doesn’t appear on my desktop)
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For some reason, this makeup etc. brings to mind the description of the people of Panem in The Hunger Games. (I think the book went into more detail than the movie did.)
and all these fools are going to be so surprised when they start getting tossed off buildings by the upcoming majority demographic.
waling up next to THAT will keep ya pipes clean….??…
entitled toddlers don’t always get their way..
The Time-Out generation on display.
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F-ing toddlers.
Oxygen thief.
She’ll never know which tree provided her with oxygen, so she’ll need to apologize to every tree, one at a time.
This kind of thing is cyclic in civilizations, particularly those preparing to fall. It’s not just the perversion, it’s the narcissism. These are people who have no values beyond self-gratification and “self-actualization.” The more they pursue it, the farther they are from finding it. Many people have discovered that self-satisfaction is the byproduct of a well-lived life, not the *purpose* of it. This was well noted by CS Lewis in his autobiography “Surprised by Joy.” The “Joy” in the title was transcendent experience. His search for it revealed that it could not be achieved as a goal. He wrote;
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But what, in conclusion, of Joy? For that, after all, is what the story has mainly been about. To tell you the truth, the subject has lost nearly all interest for me since I became a Christian. I cannot, indeed, complain, like Wordsworth, that the visionary gleam has passed away. I believe (if the thing were at all worth recording) that the old stab, the old bitter-sweet, has come to me as often and as sharply since my conversion as at any time of my life whatever. But I now know that the experience, considered as a state of my own mind, had never had the kind of importance I once gave it. It was valuable only as a pointer to something other and outer.
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He also noted in The Screwtape Letters that:
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We must picture Hell as a state where everyone is perpetually concerned about his own dignity and advancement, where everyone has a grievance, and where everyone lives the deadly serious passions of envy, self-importance, and resentment.
And that’s what happening. These people are making their own versions of hell, but they are so wedded to them that they will choose hell rather than heaven and death rather than life. The degeneracy and perversion is merely a byproduct of that destructive self-absorption and need for gratification and recognition.
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These are all hollow men and women, and they are creating hollow civilizations.