- Joined
- Oct 9, 2021
If all trannies dropped dead, how much do you guys think pedo rates would go down?
Other than losing autism developer code freaks, would anything of quality actually be lost? Is there a single instance of a tranny ever contributing something to society other than CSAM and ruined marriages? They have no talents; their interests are copy/paste. I honestly can't think of a single thing they produce other than genetic dead ends and mutilated children. I wish tranny genocide was real. The world would actually be so much better if they were gone.
I wonder how many kids' lives have been ruined by grooming/failed parents. All those innocent lives harmed for public fetish freaks, protected by the very system they scream and cry over. It makes me mad, man. They can do their pinkpill bullshit on Reddit/Telegram/Discord, and if you tell anyone about it, they just flat out don't believe you.
You show an example?
Well, that's a one-time thing!
You show multiple?
It's a coincidence!
You compile a comprehensive list?
...Well that website is used by nazis! Nazis lie!
It's so tiresome. I can't wait until this shit is over with. I can't wait for this thread to die, not from Kiwifarms losing support, but because trannies and zippertits alike are driven back under so they can waste away in their unwashed polycules of hairy, unkempt belly-guzzers. The final posts consist of their bodies being found half-decayed in an alley, unreported because no one gave a fuck about them enough to report them missing. They deserve every horrible thing that comes their way. Every """"deserved right"""" stripped away just like they took from women and homos. Murder, rape, assault, discrimination, and disgust are only bad when they happen to them. Everything revolves around them and their fetish.
God, I hate pedos. I hate these groomers. I LOATHE them. Just give me hats, it's one of those nights, man. This is going to be long
Handmaidens make every excuse for them. They excuse every single thing they do. "SHE raped the child with HER penis bigot!" "Just because SHE killed HER girlfriend in a brutal way aligned with men doesn't give you the right to call HER a man!!" "Noo you can't loop this beautiful transwoman's crime statistics with MEN!!!
It was a crime committed by a WOMAN!!!" "Just because SHE RAPES WOMEN WITH HER PENIS doesn't mean she doesn't deserve the basic human right of being in a WOMAN'S PRISON."
It brings me joy that trannies self-destruct by reading this thread. They think people support them, but all those people lie behind their backs. The misgenderings aren't accidental; they never were. They only make the mistake of calling you by your preferred gender when you are around.
Your family will leave you. Your kids are disgusted by you. You cheat on your wife/husband with E-thots who use you for your money. You struggle to walk; it's a strain on your lungs. People stare at you when you walk by because they can't believe a disgusting creature like you is allowed to roam the streets. They probably think you're going house-to-house to tell them you aren't allowed near kids. The only people who will care about you are the memers online who will use your suicide to mock your pooner and Lilith filth with, urging them closer to the grave with imagery of the bridge.
You will set yourself on fire, and no one will care. Your suicide note will mean nothing. Your manifesto will mean nothing because you stand for nothing. You contributed nothing. You hate people who contribute to society, because it's something you yourself will never do. You live on welfare not because you need it, but because you are lazy and useless, you make shitty art and shittier porn.
You like anime. You like goths. You like programming and video games. You like Stardew Valley and use NSFW roleplay bots because you're lonely and no one outside your grooming circle will give you the time of day. You like being fat because you're scared of putting work and care into yourself. If you tried, you'd be forced to reconcile with your mistakes. You self-diagnose yourself with disorders you don't understand because it's all you have. Without them, you're a shell of a person. People don't like you, and you're socially inept. Instead of trying new things or reaching out for help, you call yourself autistic.
You don't have real friends, so you make some up in your head. You give yourself a little audience of yes-men you can talk to when it gets hard because your shallow words aren't worth the ears of anyone around you. Your crocodile tears of dysphoria mean nothing. You get ghosted, and people stop replying because they don't care, not because they're busy.
You listen to the same music as everyone else. Pooner? I bet you listen to Royal and the Serpent or Glass Animals. Metacopolyse and Stardew Valley Soundtracks. Your favorite characters are from children's media. Bonus points if it's a shonen like BNHA. Extra bonus points if your chosen name is your husbando you read cuntboi fanfic crafted by a fellow pornsick degen like yourself. You have no balls, your ribcage is small, and you're a bald, mutilated sub-25-year-old girl who threw her life away in a love quest for a fictional boy you will never have. I hope all your "Trans broken leg syndrome" shit hits you at once. Your bones lose their density, your enamel decays as the fat fills your face and your hips. Your hyena atrophied vagina is disgusting and mutilated. You believe gay men and straight women should worship it, when you yourself can't even look in the fucking mirror and face the hellsick demon you created. You, little girls cry and share your feelings online, drowning your sorrows in a laptop, about how all the attention goes to transwomen.
You wouldn't know the first thing a man goes through, let alone a gay one. Your idea of masculinity is from what you have seen in Voltron and Homestuck. You embrace stereotypes of men (poorly) then screech when your nipple-less, rotten chested, diseased little 5'5" selves get stereotyped.
You are predictable. You are not unique. I bet I could name everything about you perfectly without even knowing you. Without even looking at you or acknowledging you personally. You are a paper doll. Thin and flimsy, a drop of grape juice accidentally spilled on you will stain you. It will show forever. You won't know what to do with this stain, so you pass it off as something amazing. You try to get other little girls to stain themselves, too. Girls must be gross and broken like you.
Some girls will struggle with this stain, but they will find a way to make it seem innocent with themselves as people. Judy B Jones - Graduation Girl. They coat themselves in purple polka dots, make it intentional, and learn to be confident with their stain.
But you? You degrade them, tell them their paper bodies are wrong; meanwhile, your paper is the one filling up with small, balled-up little flakes rubbing off like a watered-down canvas. You think of yourself as a piece of art, intentional and beautiful, but your canvas is a piece of cheap printer paper. It could never begin to hold the colors you molest it with.
Everyday your interests change, you need a new color. Your body, once white and simple, borne of innocence with a world to use as your brush, now runs like the tears you shed when you reflect. One day you're yellow, but then you decide you're blue, you've created green, it clashes harshly with your purple stain. It's still there.
You are muddy and discolored, showing off the body you crafted like it's something worth showing, demanding that others appreciate it while the world around you is filled with other paper-girls—those who grew to love and accept their canvases.
Some of their papers are made with rice, some with cellulose, you? Wood pulp. Cheap and disposable.
The other papers have a few smudges, but they're beautiful and full of life. They were selective with their colors. They learned to sunbleach themselves, how to lift the colors they regret, and layer themselves as they grow. They have little, healthy, happy sticky notes besides her now that she protects from the sloshing, volatile fluids of the world. You tell yourself you don't want her life, you aren't jealous of her material or what she's created,
...but you still try to spill juice onto her children. You try to STAIN them. Ruin them as someone once ruined you.
Paper disintegrates in water. You don't shower because you claim it will ruin you. You can't stand the weeping mess that stares back in the washroom, your windows are covered with trash, or whatever you could reach to drown out the world. You're moldy now. Your body hurts, but you aren't old enough to suffer those kinds of pains yet. The floods of your washed-out body will seep into the drains until there is nothing left of you. You live in the pipes of society, relishing in the gutter as the floorboards beneath your empty home rise and fall from the weak breathing the pipes allow you. The subtle creaking of the ruined floorboards is the only sign of life. The dust has already settled. The windows of the dollhouse were nailed closed when the pills started to fall. No one mourns here. Nothing of value was lost.
If you ever start to believe that people out there truly see you as anything more than the failed, pathetic remains of a muddied, confused little doll, just remember that behind every icon here, in 7,268 pages, is a person. This thread has 37 million views. This is just one thread dedicated to pointing you out. Some look at you with pity, some anger, some simply laugh, but me? I just can't wait until you and your kind are flushed down the drains for good.
Let to rot as the mutilated sinew of a disgraced Paper-mâché project, rust will masticate the flimsy glue of your soddened flesh worse than the exo-knife ever could have. Reap what you fucking sew. The threads are being clipped, but the clumsy hand holding the scissors is wielded by one of your own. You'll never admit this. Accountability is an adult trait you're too privileged to understand.
You asked for this the moment you bastards started to target kids. I hope you lose everything. Rage is contagious, especially when the ones you're going against actually have something to lose.
Other than losing autism developer code freaks, would anything of quality actually be lost? Is there a single instance of a tranny ever contributing something to society other than CSAM and ruined marriages? They have no talents; their interests are copy/paste. I honestly can't think of a single thing they produce other than genetic dead ends and mutilated children. I wish tranny genocide was real. The world would actually be so much better if they were gone.
I wonder how many kids' lives have been ruined by grooming/failed parents. All those innocent lives harmed for public fetish freaks, protected by the very system they scream and cry over. It makes me mad, man. They can do their pinkpill bullshit on Reddit/Telegram/Discord, and if you tell anyone about it, they just flat out don't believe you.
You show an example?
Well, that's a one-time thing!
You show multiple?
It's a coincidence!
You compile a comprehensive list?
...Well that website is used by nazis! Nazis lie!
It's so tiresome. I can't wait until this shit is over with. I can't wait for this thread to die, not from Kiwifarms losing support, but because trannies and zippertits alike are driven back under so they can waste away in their unwashed polycules of hairy, unkempt belly-guzzers. The final posts consist of their bodies being found half-decayed in an alley, unreported because no one gave a fuck about them enough to report them missing. They deserve every horrible thing that comes their way. Every """"deserved right"""" stripped away just like they took from women and homos. Murder, rape, assault, discrimination, and disgust are only bad when they happen to them. Everything revolves around them and their fetish.
God, I hate pedos. I hate these groomers. I LOATHE them. Just give me hats, it's one of those nights, man. This is going to be long
Handmaidens make every excuse for them. They excuse every single thing they do. "SHE raped the child with HER penis bigot!" "Just because SHE killed HER girlfriend in a brutal way aligned with men doesn't give you the right to call HER a man!!" "Noo you can't loop this beautiful transwoman's crime statistics with MEN!!!
It was a crime committed by a WOMAN!!!" "Just because SHE RAPES WOMEN WITH HER PENIS doesn't mean she doesn't deserve the basic human right of being in a WOMAN'S PRISON."It brings me joy that trannies self-destruct by reading this thread. They think people support them, but all those people lie behind their backs. The misgenderings aren't accidental; they never were. They only make the mistake of calling you by your preferred gender when you are around.
Your family will leave you. Your kids are disgusted by you. You cheat on your wife/husband with E-thots who use you for your money. You struggle to walk; it's a strain on your lungs. People stare at you when you walk by because they can't believe a disgusting creature like you is allowed to roam the streets. They probably think you're going house-to-house to tell them you aren't allowed near kids. The only people who will care about you are the memers online who will use your suicide to mock your pooner and Lilith filth with, urging them closer to the grave with imagery of the bridge.
You will set yourself on fire, and no one will care. Your suicide note will mean nothing. Your manifesto will mean nothing because you stand for nothing. You contributed nothing. You hate people who contribute to society, because it's something you yourself will never do. You live on welfare not because you need it, but because you are lazy and useless, you make shitty art and shittier porn.
You like anime. You like goths. You like programming and video games. You like Stardew Valley and use NSFW roleplay bots because you're lonely and no one outside your grooming circle will give you the time of day. You like being fat because you're scared of putting work and care into yourself. If you tried, you'd be forced to reconcile with your mistakes. You self-diagnose yourself with disorders you don't understand because it's all you have. Without them, you're a shell of a person. People don't like you, and you're socially inept. Instead of trying new things or reaching out for help, you call yourself autistic.
You don't have real friends, so you make some up in your head. You give yourself a little audience of yes-men you can talk to when it gets hard because your shallow words aren't worth the ears of anyone around you. Your crocodile tears of dysphoria mean nothing. You get ghosted, and people stop replying because they don't care, not because they're busy.
You listen to the same music as everyone else. Pooner? I bet you listen to Royal and the Serpent or Glass Animals. Metacopolyse and Stardew Valley Soundtracks. Your favorite characters are from children's media. Bonus points if it's a shonen like BNHA. Extra bonus points if your chosen name is your husbando you read cuntboi fanfic crafted by a fellow pornsick degen like yourself. You have no balls, your ribcage is small, and you're a bald, mutilated sub-25-year-old girl who threw her life away in a love quest for a fictional boy you will never have. I hope all your "Trans broken leg syndrome" shit hits you at once. Your bones lose their density, your enamel decays as the fat fills your face and your hips. Your hyena atrophied vagina is disgusting and mutilated. You believe gay men and straight women should worship it, when you yourself can't even look in the fucking mirror and face the hellsick demon you created. You, little girls cry and share your feelings online, drowning your sorrows in a laptop, about how all the attention goes to transwomen.
You wouldn't know the first thing a man goes through, let alone a gay one. Your idea of masculinity is from what you have seen in Voltron and Homestuck. You embrace stereotypes of men (poorly) then screech when your nipple-less, rotten chested, diseased little 5'5" selves get stereotyped.
You are predictable. You are not unique. I bet I could name everything about you perfectly without even knowing you. Without even looking at you or acknowledging you personally. You are a paper doll. Thin and flimsy, a drop of grape juice accidentally spilled on you will stain you. It will show forever. You won't know what to do with this stain, so you pass it off as something amazing. You try to get other little girls to stain themselves, too. Girls must be gross and broken like you.
Some girls will struggle with this stain, but they will find a way to make it seem innocent with themselves as people. Judy B Jones - Graduation Girl. They coat themselves in purple polka dots, make it intentional, and learn to be confident with their stain.
But you? You degrade them, tell them their paper bodies are wrong; meanwhile, your paper is the one filling up with small, balled-up little flakes rubbing off like a watered-down canvas. You think of yourself as a piece of art, intentional and beautiful, but your canvas is a piece of cheap printer paper. It could never begin to hold the colors you molest it with.
Everyday your interests change, you need a new color. Your body, once white and simple, borne of innocence with a world to use as your brush, now runs like the tears you shed when you reflect. One day you're yellow, but then you decide you're blue, you've created green, it clashes harshly with your purple stain. It's still there.
You are muddy and discolored, showing off the body you crafted like it's something worth showing, demanding that others appreciate it while the world around you is filled with other paper-girls—those who grew to love and accept their canvases.
Some of their papers are made with rice, some with cellulose, you? Wood pulp. Cheap and disposable.
The other papers have a few smudges, but they're beautiful and full of life. They were selective with their colors. They learned to sunbleach themselves, how to lift the colors they regret, and layer themselves as they grow. They have little, healthy, happy sticky notes besides her now that she protects from the sloshing, volatile fluids of the world. You tell yourself you don't want her life, you aren't jealous of her material or what she's created,
...but you still try to spill juice onto her children. You try to STAIN them. Ruin them as someone once ruined you.
Paper disintegrates in water. You don't shower because you claim it will ruin you. You can't stand the weeping mess that stares back in the washroom, your windows are covered with trash, or whatever you could reach to drown out the world. You're moldy now. Your body hurts, but you aren't old enough to suffer those kinds of pains yet. The floods of your washed-out body will seep into the drains until there is nothing left of you. You live in the pipes of society, relishing in the gutter as the floorboards beneath your empty home rise and fall from the weak breathing the pipes allow you. The subtle creaking of the ruined floorboards is the only sign of life. The dust has already settled. The windows of the dollhouse were nailed closed when the pills started to fall. No one mourns here. Nothing of value was lost.
If you ever start to believe that people out there truly see you as anything more than the failed, pathetic remains of a muddied, confused little doll, just remember that behind every icon here, in 7,268 pages, is a person. This thread has 37 million views. This is just one thread dedicated to pointing you out. Some look at you with pity, some anger, some simply laugh, but me? I just can't wait until you and your kind are flushed down the drains for good.
Let to rot as the mutilated sinew of a disgraced Paper-mâché project, rust will masticate the flimsy glue of your soddened flesh worse than the exo-knife ever could have. Reap what you fucking sew. The threads are being clipped, but the clumsy hand holding the scissors is wielded by one of your own. You'll never admit this. Accountability is an adult trait you're too privileged to understand.
You asked for this the moment you bastards started to target kids. I hope you lose everything. Rage is contagious, especially when the ones you're going against actually have something to lose.
