HEy LIbReAL

Hey liberal. I am like a wolf. I am a patriot. I have rage. My dad was mean and raised a meaner wolf. I am a wolf. Wolves don’t go to therapy, they lash out—they have no access to the institutions of higher understanding. Wolves bite children. I am not a shepherd. Again, I am a wolf who kills the sheep and the small neighborhood pets. Wolves squat and poop where they please, they have no ability to construct modern systems of sanitation. If there were other wolves, they’d recognize me as their Alpha, purely on scent, but I am the mythic lone wolf. A wolf among the sheep of Walmart. I smell awful. I have no idea what other people think. Wolves are wild and unable to understand mathematics or history or deep interpersonal love. I do have fleas and a couple ticks. Wolves live in caves and 1995 five speed Geo Metros, when landlords misunderstand a wolf’s nature to mark territory with viscous orange urine and a wolf’s nipping at the elderly. Wolves howl. Wolves are a nuisance. I am your Alpha and you don’t even know it, because I am a lone wolf. I have rabies after fighting off a gaze of raccoons. Wolves don’t have abstract thought, peer-review, confirming hypothesis through repeatable experimentation. Something hurts in my guts, a have a bad organ, I think. I’m pretty dedicated to this metaphor—the lone wolf is very lonely. 1776.
puppy chow for the wolf: venmo. om/u/rustBELTcripple


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