can you imagine, monsieur, the soul of this man, who comes to us crestfallen, unsure of himself, unable to hold his arm out in a proud roman salute, to bed the woman that he likes, perhaps he is obese, or has lost weight and now has 20 pounds of loose skin hanging to his toes, and drapes himself in this carnal cloak, wrapped in loose skin, ashamed of himself, ashamed of his browser history, he looks down at his pee pee and he says to it "why can't you be big and black, little pee pee?" and the best you can do for this man, the best you can offer him, is a bunch of Jewish Trash?
brother, i feel your pain. i know the dark places you have been. i too have been there, friend. i too have considered shooting up my school. i too, friend, have watched anime.
but that all changed, monsieur. one day, in the depths of an 8 hour internet session, whilst i obesely lounged over the 9 layers of myself, i discovered a story of a man who picked himself up from effeminacy, from being a loser, to put it bluntly, a failure, and he changed the world, and he got revenge.
he wasn't a superhero, or a youtuber, or a twitch streamer, or the guy who invented fidget spinners. he was a little german boy, named Adolf Hitler. and not only did he wrote books, but he wrote history - with his mind and his will. now let's be earnest with each other. i give you my word, a solemn promise, that if you only read one book in your life, let it be Mein Kampf. each page will raise your testosterone level, like intellectual trenbolone. you will become leaner, meaner, more defined, with masculine striations between your neck and your neckbeard calving out a valley of pale skin and pubes. before long, you'll start to see the changes. girls will begin to notice you like they didn't before. you'll receive emails from even from men - homosexuals - wanting to lie down with you. monsieur, by the end of this journey, you will look back on this post and laugh and say to yourself, a simple genuflecting sentence of thanks, only
Fourteen words
monsieur
Fourteen words