The Boy Who Cried White Wolf: On Polygon’s The Witcher 3 Review
Adrian Chmielarz

When it comes to the Feminist culture war of conquest nothing really changes. The days, weeks and seasons of the year change, but the vindictive, fun-killing, self-righteous, circle-shlicking hug-box bullshit stays the same. What will happen this year is what happened last year. The regretted and/or drunken sex repackaged as sex scandal, the inquisitions, witch-hunts, and crusades. The rigid choreography from the faux-outrage and pseudo-indignation playbook, and jargon so incoherent it’s actually an alternate language created by people who learned how to communicate by talking to themselves. Also the dark-triad of neurosis, negativity and narcissism will be elevated to the level of revealed truth. The targets of the Feminist indignant pile-on may change, but the underlying rank hypocrisy and thin smokescreen of altruism masking otherwise naked self-obsession, and their inner adolescent fighting tooth and nail to escape adulthood thus lashing out at others if not entire communities if not society if not the universe itself for not capitulating to every petty spoiled princess tantrum whim they may have, all that is timeless. Gives me a creepy feeling of deja vu, where you’ve not only seen it before, but ran the well trotted maze of Feminist post-menstrual stress, played out in ever decreasing spiral loops of psycho-drama that always lead to the same cul-de-sac up their own vaginas, where it’s dark and warm and they don’t have to go far to sniff their own queefs.

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