Hey! It’s me, you know, from Twitter? Remember, earlier? I retweeted an article about climate change, you called me a “liberal virgin slut,” and then I tried to explain why that didn’t make sense and you told me to stop virtue signaling? Maybe we both said a few things that we shouldn’t have, and I’ll be the first to admit that Twitter wasn’t the best place for our argument. But have you been outside lately?
The carbon in our atmosphere is creating more extreme weather conditions, with higher highs and lower lows. Species are dying across the planet and we’re likely to experience food and water shortages in the next few decades. But on a day like today, at this time of year? You could almost forget about all of that.
It’s too nice to be cooped up inside calling people libtards online from the comfort of your basement. That’s why I’m inviting you to come with me to the real world; we can walk through a field and feel the breeze through the grass against our ankles; we can ride bikes to the store and get slushies and hurl insults face to face.
Related: Too Far! Some Liberal Snowflake Made Fun of Something I Like
Just imagine it: somebody lights a cigarette and the signature smoke smell dances across the street and wafts into our noses; it’s subtle, and muted, but our ice cream cones taste a little different now. Later tonight, the teenagers at the end of the street are going to light off some fireworks they bought upstate and if the cops don’t get called they’re gonna drink Blue Ribbons and Mountain Dew in the garage. Meanwhile, you can call me a cuck all you want while I’ll kick your pathetic, emotionally stunted ass into a pale smudge all up and down the well-groomed front lawn and under the twinkling stars in the waning hours of day.
Listen to me, you worthless fucking haircut: it’s gorgeous outside. Can’t you hear the wind in the trees shaking every leaf and whistling out like the ocean crashing onto the shore? Doesn’t the unrefined beauty of this old neighborhood bring you to your knees?
The old paint on these cozy homes, the dandelions stretching out between cracks in the concrete like mother nature’s fingers waving hello, the playground by the pond with its lone tire swing swaying with aimless consistency, and your stupid idiot face with dumb opinions that only a clown-dicked slack-jawed brainwashed tire fire man would say, you stupid, worthless, idiot, please die.