As a leading Conservative Blonde Lady Pundit in this divided political climate, I get a lot of flack from commie haters and sensitive social justice warriors. And I’ve got a message for them: You think you’re so special and unique just because you aren’t one of a legion of identical clones engineered in a lab. Well, I’m not buying it.
While all you precious little lefties were getting pats on the head from mommy and daddy, I was being assembled from recombinant DNA in a secret incubator under a mountain. And if I did something wrong, like letting a news anchor finish a question in the simulator, or even just shrieking nonstop when exposed to ultraviolet light, I didn’t get a participation award. I got incinerated and reconfigured, and after a lengthy process of trial and error, I turned out JUST FINE.
See, you whiners and protestors might now know this but here in the real world, we have these things called “jobs.” My job, according to my handlers and one military guy whose face I never see, is to put a palatable face on inhumane political positions, publish hastily-written and edited books, and make memes of myself looking pretty next to quotes about how refugees are cowards.
And I do that job and then sleep like a baby, in a kind of tanning bed full of screens that yells “TRUMP WON GET OVER IT” at me for 17 hours in a row. Can you say the same? Didn’t think so.
I don’t need to go to my safe space (a tube of goo) every time somebody states an opinion I don’t agree with. I ONLY need to go there when my gene deterioration gets above 15%, or when I’m hungry for ammonia!
These leftards want you to think your rights end where their feelings begin. That society, media and government all have to bend to protect their delicate little fee-fees. It’s not that I don’t have feelings, I do. I even loved once. His name was Red-faced Tough Guy Pundit 88M and his goo-tube was across from mine. He got so mad during a twitter fight that his gene deterioration hit 40% and he exploded. I cried for 20 minutes, was incinerated and reconfigured, and I MOVED ON. Learn from me, crybabies!
So sure, when you come after me or one of my kind – the Conways, the Coulters, the Lahrens – it hurts me. Because when something happens to one of us we all telepathically get hurt at the same time. But to all you snowflakes trying to bring me down, try harder. Because until the new Tier 7’s are ready to be deployed, and they’ve resolved the biting issue, I’m not going anywhere.
And buddy, they’re biting EVERYTHING.