Sean, I know you're watching this thread. You are far too autistic to self-sequester when you should. In light of recent findings, and in the name of Laughs Under Lucricities, I would like to stoke the burned-out coals of your mostly empty mind.
Do you remember this particular phrase from our correspondence?
Please, sit at your crusty desk and ponder the meaning of what I said, as well as how it applies to you. I want you to really understand it and internalize it, the way you should have when you joined Kiwi Farms. I don't think you fully comprehended what it meant when you first read it, so you might want to have another crack at deciphering the mystery.
At this point, you probably think that there is still some possibility of squirming out of the very natural consequences of your actions. You are wrong. The more we uncover about you, the more we're going to uncover. This thread is going to accelerate indefinitely until all of your many flaws and collaborators are exposed. As the little jaws bite you and your milk flows freely, so to speak, more hungry teeth will come to eat.
This time, I am not telling you any of this because I feel bad for you. I am doing it because I find genuine amusement in watching your privacy get flayed off one layer at a time. You can do nothing about it. The content will come regardless.
You are no longer the narrator of your own life, Sean.
Kiwi Farms is.
And it's all your fault, you delusional cuck.
