When the thugs of NATO bombed Serbs in the late 1990s, the Serbs didn’t whine and botch like the American loser youth who are demanding pensions and wasting their fucking pathetic existence on social media rehashing propaganda memes all in the name of getting their own way, never having to admit they are wrong, and trying to get everyone to agree with their selfish assessments and demands.
You know, if you get perpetually offended because you want to rig a conversation to get pity and validation as you micromanage and find fault with the words you measure, then the best course of action is not stop talking to people. Just shut up, and deal with your own problems, and break the cycle.
Or just learn a few lessons from Serbs.
Serbs, when they were being murdered by your various governments as you and your parents cheered them on, held concerts out on the bridge where they could be bombed.
You have snowflakes of the West write articles how people should talk to them because heaven forbid someone call them on the carpet for their manipulative woe is me bullshit.
The Greeks protested the bombings at their own concerts, and called it out for what it was.
But the Leftist West could bomb people without batting an eye, but when their candidate lost an election journalists did their best to rig, the howling, screaming, and tantrum-throwing just turned people in North America into spiteful little trolls who no longer use a single brain cell nor moral, but will just opposite to whatever someone who didn’t vote for Clinton just to prove some nonexistent point.
Fuck you and your bad lying.
If a person who voted Republican likes ice cream, you will see endless trolling on social media about how bad and immoral it is to like ice cream because by the default delusion, the opposite has to be the right answer.
If Republicans want to permanently fuck up Democrats — you should all praise sex as beautiful, having children as glorious, being happy as wonderful, and having a life in a nice house as something to cherish.
Just do it. Watch what happens.
Watch as journalists declare having sex as demented, ensuring the next generation as fascist, being happy as immoral, and living in a home as treasonous and most likely some nefarious Russian-backed propaganda campaign.
They are miserable, and want the whole world to be as bitter and worthless trash as they are.
I sit here and have a very good laugh. I went to a place worse than hell in 2018, and my life was hell for two years when I had to basically give up everything to look after my grandmother when the paramedics dropped her in her own home on a hard floor in front of my mother who developed Post Traumatic Stress.
People who know me and my family can attest to what we went through. Nurses and social workers who came to our house to look after her were so impressed, that my mother won an award from CCAC two years in a row.
And the second time she received two different nominators independently of one another.
That was hell.
2018 was below hell.
And I fought back.
And happily so, grateful, smarter, wiser, and better than I was before.
And here are people in their twenties, staring at their godphone like a bunch of cowardly dummies, who have no idea what life is about, making royal decrees as if they were authorities in the matter and not a bunch of ignorant motherfuckers who didn’t get enough love as children.
They are collectively depressed, but too gullible and conniving to know why.
They should all be placed on a bridge and told that bridge is going to be bombed, and they aren’t escaping or going home as their godphones are cut off.
Okay, we are giving you an hour. Tell me of all the things you did on social media that will bring you comfort.
Tell me about the trolling on Twitter that will make you feel like you didn’t waste your life.
Explain how posting your ugly pouty mug with an animal face on Instagram will influence future generations.
Who is going to give a flying fuck a year from now about the propaganda memes you puked out on Facebook?
No one, that’s who.
And then, with a loudspeaker, make bitchin’ explosive noises with your mouth as you then shout, “Punked!”
Watch the trauma those little brats will have, and the lawsuits, and the sad, doe eyed Instagram pictures they’ll post with doggie nose and ears.
An empty shell.
Serbs threw a fucking party.
People in the West should be ashamed of themselves.
I clawed out of the place below hell. I was thrown in even though I never did a thing to warrant that kind of cosmic abuse.
And yet, when my grandmother needed constant care, I spent time with her and began an epic venture A Dangerous Woman as I became an art teacher. I have no regrets. My grandmother was loved until her final breath, and she knew it.
And even though 2018 was even worse — I came out with a published book, one new one, and a new lease on life. I am still transmuting, but I have new ideas and I am ready to take on the world with a big smile on my face.
No mid-life crisis for Alexandr Kitty. No wallowing or cowering for me. I am eccentric and I don’t have a single flying fuck to give to my haters.
You’re miserable. I am not.
I call them as I see them. I am not your cheerleader or ass-kisser, If you are fucking up or fucked up, I am going to tell you it to your face.
I am not wallowing or pining for socialism. I am not a bigot who is blaming Russia for random shit.
Life tried to bomb Alexandra Kitty back to the Stone Age, and I took those stones and built a brand new castle, fusing it with gold, and made it out of Kintsugi.
And there is a saying among us Kintsugi artists: broken is better than new.
I am still an upbeat, perky person who is enigmatic, eccentric, and filled with silliosity. I write outrageous stories, and live a Bohemian life as I have grand and futuristic visionary ideas about what the world can do with idealism and happiness.
Those stones I built my castle are precious ones. They weren’t just rocks.
Each one had a history, and I got to know and love them all.
And some of those stones were known as Chaser.
And I looked at them, smiled fondly, and said, Alexandra, try it again.
Chaser is going to be a party.
Shitty and petty losers can sit in their soiled underpants and stew in their stink.
I am excited and happy that I could land on my feet, and when I couldn’t, I learned how to soar.
I am a tough little Serbian punk.
The West was always envious of Serbs. They always hated our spirit, reverence for our families, and stubborn nature that compelled us not to be ass kissers.
So to all you moral masturbators: get over yourselves. I am not buying your bullshit. I didn’t buy it when the Catholic Church pulled that shit, and you’re no church.
Chaser is going to be a wild ride.
Chaser is not WikiLeaks.
I get the joke.
I understand the psychological and propagandistic bombing the overlords has done with impunity.
You don’t fight bombs with bombs.
You become bomb-proof.
And then you gain strength by getting bombed.
If 2018 left me with one amazing gift, it was to teach me how to gain knowledge and power with every kind of bomb people in power throw at you — as well as the ones life throws at you.
I am a very good learner.
You now have a generation of Reality Deniers and Life Wasters who think they are playing it safe, when they have done nothing but gamble their blessings and opportunities away living in their self-imposed bubbles and prisons.
Chaser is coming…
Get the party started because the world’s most dangerous woman is ready to arrive and deliver…