Careercow Robert Chipman / Bob / Moviebob / "Movieblob" - Middle-Aged Consoomer, CWC with a Thesaurus, Ardent Male Feminist and Superior Futurist, the Twice-Fired, the Mario-Worshipper, publicly dismantled by Hot Dog Girl, now a diabetic

How will Bob react to seeing the Mario film?


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Bob telling people to report twitter...

I guess it's okay when he ignores soft blocks and stalks people to scream at them every day on there.
For Bob it's never about following the rules or basic common decency: it's just about winning. Sure, we've seen Twitter content from him that wouldn't look out of place at the Wannsee Conference directed at entire groups and individuals alike but an account mocking him is harrassment and he cries about it. He can break the rules all he wants but doesn't tolerate those playing by them to slight him, no, no.

It's much the same with the Rittenhouse case. He never cared about justice in this case because Kyle wasn't just on the stand for himself. He was there representing everything Bob hates. Therefore, he had to fry for daring to not just let Rosenbaum kill him for the offense of impeding his savage desires to destroy. The same goes for opposing the rest who tried to murder him that night. Bob just wanted to win, to strike a crushing blow against the mayoghouls. It's the kind of thing you'd expect from someone who looks primarily at an accused individual's voting habits first and foremost as an indication of whether they should be found guilty.


However, Kyle not only successfully defended himself, it's now been legally affirmed that he did the right thing repeatedly. He lost. He'll be neck deep in booze and barely restrained exceptional rage for the rest of the year.
 
Nothing formally to do with sanitation, but before the advent if things like "germ theory" let alone modern medicine, the line between medical care and witchcraft was blurry at best. The ancients could describe a lot of phenomena (losing too much blood kills you, standing water breeds disease, certain ailments travel from person to person) but with no understanding of the mechanism, supernatural forces were as good an explanation as any. As a result, a lot of ritual beliefs sprang up as a result of people mapping cause-effect relationships they didn't fully understand (to your example, the Romans believed exactly that: that you became ritually impure by touching a body that didn't receive last rites.)

That's what I was infering, not that I'm glorifying ancient taboos because they arent based on empirical knowledge just collective observation and you end up sacrificing virgins to the volcano gods to make it rain like that.

It also makes the distrust of witches make more sense when you realize witches were basically black market doctors who were as likely to kill their patients as not have any effect at all.
 
Tweet dump:

FilmRobert tries playing Internet physiatrist:
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Tweet | Archive

>"extreme focus on the idea that ANYONE talking about ANYTHING that isn't YOU (or whatever you believe to be 'the most important thing') are actively conspiring to "distract everyone."

Robert's complete lack of self-awareness is astounding. This is the same man who constantly blames all of America's problems on everyone too the right of the average Twitter commie and beliefs that goobergate was a conspiracy to stop Hillary from getting elected.

Robert experiences a couple of tech errors.
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Tweet | Archive
>"and STILL no answer on the inability to enable to f---ing tip jar"

Probably because they know that no one would ever entertain the idea of paying Robert for his Twitter shit.

Yet another smooth-brained Rittenhouse take:
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Tweet | Archive

He's too scarred to swear on Twitter:
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Tweet | Archive

Robert tried, and failed to dunk one someone (again):
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Tweet | Archive

When you can't argue against them, just dehumanize them:
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Tweet | Archive
 
Tweet dump:

FilmRobert tries playing Internet physiatrist:
View attachment 2734919
Tweet | Archive

>"extreme focus on the idea that ANYONE talking about ANYTHING that isn't YOU (or whatever you believe to be 'the most important thing') are actively conspiring to "distract everyone."

Robert's complete lack of self-awareness is astounding. This is the same man who constantly blames all of America's problems on everyone too the right of the average Twitter commie and beliefs that goobergate was a conspiracy to stop Hillary from getting elected.

Robert experiences a couple of tech errors.
View attachment 2734926
Tweet | Archive
>"and STILL no answer on the inability to enable to f---ing tip jar"

Probably because they know that no one would ever entertain the idea of paying Robert for his Twitter shit.

Yet another smooth-brained Rittenhouse take:
View attachment 2734936
Tweet | Archive

He's too scarred to swear on Twitter:
View attachment 2734942
Tweet | Archive

Robert tried, and failed to dunk one someone (again):
View attachment 2734946View attachment 2734944
Tweet | Archive

When you can't argue against them, just dehumanize them:
View attachment 2734950
Tweet | Archive
Blobby Breuer's wife was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2012 it went into remission until 2015 and she has been battling it since and has been at Stage 4 for a few years now meaning if she's lucky she might get a few more years before the meds stop working.

Yeah I bet Jim is only focused on himself and not his wife and daughters. I know you wouldn't understand that given you have neither and never will.
 
Bob challenges someone to an ugly off and wins.
11-20-21 ur ugly.PNG

He really pulled the pedo card.
Bob, who the only three things anyone knows about Bob is eugenics, Lindsay, and his defense of Cuties (which I always wanna remind people that he never defended the movie directly or the quality of it and only got involved when some woman reviewer started eating shit for praising the "coming of age" tale from a woman of color) played the pedo card.
something something strategy Cotton

the only replies so far
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OK so first the proud boys are not nazis. They're a goofy group of guys made by a guy who stuck dildos up his own ass to own the libs. Touch grass then touch soap you weirdo.
Someone had already archived his twitter and I'm using that screen grab because for some reason he removed the trans/pan and CG, which I can only assume means Cat Girl, from his bio.
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Prank War: A Themis the Catgirl Short Story​

WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT ANYTHING YOU READ IN THIS STORY AT HOME!

(Spoiler warning: this story takes place between books 5 and 6)


It all started about fifteen years ago, on the morning bus trip to Bayside Elementary. Samantha Garrett was sitting next to her second-best friend, Trevor Baker. Behind them were her best friend, Zeke O'Malley, and her third-best friend, Derek von Waffen. An average person would think it strange that Sam would rank her best friends like that, but they knew and understood their positions in her mind and heart.

Derek and Zeke talked about the usual stuff; video games and random TV shows, most notably about a bunch of role-playing games they owned. Meanwhile, in front of them, Trevor gripped their bag tightly, almost as if they were protecting it. This immediately caught the eye of the 8-year-old girl sitting next to them. Sam turned her head to see Trevor firmly burying their face into their bag, causing the girl's eyebrow to raise.

"You alright, Trev?" She asked.

"O-oh, yeah, I'm fine," Trevor said, clutching their bag tighter.

Sam's other eyebrow raised, and she knew immediately that there was something suspicious going on. As a devout lover of science and as a person who could never let a question go unanswered, she had no choice; she had to figure out was Trevor was hiding.

"So, what's in your bag?"

Trevor almost panicked when the question was asked. Their hands started trembling as their bag started to rattle. That had to be the biggest tell since Sam knew that Trevor's confidence had grown quite a lot over the past couple of years since they first met. So for them to suddenly get shy meant that something wasn't right, and she knew that.

"Aww, come on, Trev," she said, giving a hint of genuine care in her voice. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

The small child shook their head, "I can't. It's a surprise."

Sam chuckled, "Oh, don't be like that, even if it's a surprise for us, you can tell me, right?"

"I mean, it is a surprise for all of you, but you have to wait till later..."

The boys in the back started to hear their friends, and Zeke reached around to nudge the young Black girl's arm.

"Sammy, leave 'em alone," Zeke said. "It's clear they don't want to show us right now."

Sam started pouting, especially since she was being told what to do. But, she wasn't going to argue with Zeke, mostly because she knew he was afraid of conflict, so she relented. After a few minutes had passed, Trevor unzipped their backpack but kept the bag itself firmly shut, holding it out towards their friend.

"Ok," Trevor said, their eyes looking almost to the outside of the bus as they extended their arms. "You can reach in and touch it, but don't look."

Sam gleefully nodded, sticking her hand carefully into the bag. She noticed a box with a hole in it, big enough to fit her small hand in. The girl put her hand into the box and felt around, then felt a sharp pain snap around her fingers, causing her to yelp. She pulled the arm out quickly to find that a classic mousetrap had wrapped around her hand, and she glared intensely at her friend. Trevor almost fell between the seats laughing, wheezing, and almost crying from the cute little prank.

"I can't believe you fell for it," they said between breaths. "For someone so smart, Sam, you sure are gullible."

The girl's eye started twitching. She was fuming and blushing from embarrassment. She swore revenge and had the perfect, science-oriented way to do it as the bus continued towards the school.

A few hours later, they were in class with a bunch of crafting materials around them. Their teacher had assigned all the kids in the class to make dioramas of a book they've recently read. Naturally, since the four of them worked so well together, Sam and Zeke worked in one pair. Trevor worked alongside Derek for another team, and all four of them sat at the same table. They were also given a pair of regular scissors, as Zeke and Derek were two of the most responsible and cautious students in the school. The two boys were also highly skilled in keeping Sam and Trevor from doing anything that could be harmful to themselves, most of the time.

Sam was using the scissors at that moment, twisting them ever so carefully to make small holes for pipe cleaners to hang things from. Satisfied, she put the scissors down next to her and Trevor, then slipped something out of her pocket with a grin to wait for her carefully laid trap to activate. Her smile started to widen when Trevor began to reach for them, knowing she would get her revenge for the mousetrap.

"Actually, Trev, could I use them instead, please?" Zeke asked. "I gotta cut this construction paper."

"Oh, yeah, sure, Zeke, go right ahead."

As Zeke reached for the scissors, Sam started to panic. She thought she should drop the things in her hand, but she was so startled, and he moved so fast that the shock caused her to tighten her grip instead. His hand moved to the closed metal blades, and the second his hand touched them, he jumped back as a reasonably powerful surge of electricity went through his arm. He screamed in pain, looking at his twitching hand, then down to the thin metal wire that was wrapped around them. Zeke's eyes then traced the wire back to its source as he saw Sam try to pocket a 9-volt battery and a small sheet of rubber.

"Zeke, are you ok? What happened?" The teacher said, concerned that he had seriously hurt himself.

"I'm fine, Mrs. McLaughlin," Zeke responded, his voice soured by a faint hint of anger. "I just got a static shock."

As their teacher nodded and walked away, Zeke looked at the suddenly fearful Sam and Trevor as he adjusted his glasses. The two started to apologize profusely, but he said nothing, which made them even more concerned. After all, even at the tender age of eight, Zeke was always calculating his next moves. He was forever preparing a plan in his head.

An hour later, they were standing in the lunch line. Sam was standing between Zeke and Derek, but her eyes nervously started darting over to her bespectacled friend. Since the scissor incident, he had been silent, and it worried her almost as much as it did Trevor. Nothing good ever came from an injured and quiet Zeke; they knew this for sure.

The school lunch that day was pretty mediocre, except for the dessert; chocolate pudding. Zeke grinned, thinking to himself how perfect a desert it was for what he had in store. He happily took some, taking a spoon and immediately taking a large portion into it, waiting for the right moment. When he finally thought Sam had dropped her guard, he lifted his spoon with a large glob of pudding and shouted.

"Hey Sam, catch!"

He launched it at her like a catapult. However, as if on instinct, or rather, that she caught it in her peripheral vision, she ducked. The pudding also had been thrown with a bit too much gusto, to begin with. So instead of hitting Sam in the eyes like he wanted, it hit the person next to her. As the chocolate mess slapped Derek in the face, the entire room, not to mention anyone who saw it, stopped dead in their tracks.

The room was deafeningly silent as he reached up with his left hand and wiped the gelatinous treat off his face. He stared at the glob for a moment in his hand, then glared at his friends, throwing it on the floor. Derek then turned around, looking at a terrified Trevor as well. All three of the children had alarm bells ringing in their heads; the demon was coming, no one was safe.

Derek calmly wiped his hands and face off with some napkins, then casually cracked his knuckles and neck. He then looked at his friends one more time, a smile creeping on his face. An uncomfortable smile, complete with a twitching eye and a few veins popping up around his forehead.

"So, friends..." Derek chuckled, his voice filled with a terrifying malevolence. "...How do you want to do this?"

Everyone around them had already stepped back. The air tension started to feel like an old Western movie; A showdown was about to happen. The four children looked at each other, steeling themselves, waiting for the right moment to engage.

What transpired next would live in infamy for years to come. A day that the school, the school district, and all of their families and friends regretted and despised. The day the Uprisers had a non-stop prank war with each other...
-----------

Meanwhile, in the present day, Natalie Stash was sitting on the edge of her bed, running her hand through her boyfriend's hair. Zeke hadn't fully recovered from the weeks without sleep. Then again, having an intense vision embedded into your mind by the Sage of Fire herself would be cause for insomnia. Especially when you consider that it was combined with his heart pounding in his ears every day since it happened. Zeke's eyes fluttered open, seeing the blurry outline of his girlfriend in the lamp-lit room, and he fumbled his way to grabbing his glasses.

"Mmmmm, what time is it?" He asked. "Also, what day is it?"

"It's Thursday," Natalie responded sweetly. "November 12th, it's about 6:30 at night."

He lazily nodded, then the date echoed in his mind for a second before his eyes snapped open. The news of that caused him to sit up, startling Natalie as his eyes darted around the room. This was cause for concern for her as she saw him relax a little, seemingly lost in through.

"Are you alright, Zeke?"

"Huh?" He replied haphazardly, then turned to her with a smile. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I just thought of something I need to do tomorrow."

"What is it?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

"Don't worry about it, just something important to me," Zeke said. He was looking in her direction, but she could tell he wasn't looking specifically at her. The young man shook his head and smiled at her, "I'm probably gonna rest for a bit longer. I'm gonna need the energy later."

"O-ok," she said, walking towards the door and waving her hand towards the lamp, turning it off with a bit of telekinesis.

She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as it was shut, Zeke immediately reached for his phone and started to text Sam.

'Hey, Sam! You know what tomorrow is, right?'

A few minutes later, he got a response. 'Oh, I know. I'll be busy tomorrow, but I have a few things I'm going to prepare later tonight for them.'

Zeke chuckled and then got a second message. 'Also, if you need help with your plan, let me know. Dad told me about you coming to see him about your heart. You doing alright?'

He could still feel his heart pounding in his chest, and closing his eyes made him see a pulsing red light. However, he was feeling better with sleep despite that and told Sam such. Then he started to tell her his plans for the battle against Trevor and Derek the following day.

Meanwhile, in the living room and kitchen, Buckets was washing dishes.m He looked over to his side to see that Natalie had walked over to him to help him dry everything off and put them away. Behind them, in the living room, Derek was sitting on the couch, playing 'Hellforged Kingdom,' a dark horror fantasy game designed to be extremely hard and brutal. Beside him was Trevor, who was backseat gaming, and Themis, who seemed distracted by something. The pair finished washing the dishes. Buckets turned to Zeke's door then back to Natalie while she dried her hands.

"So, how's he doing?" The feline asked.

"He's doing better. I think sleeping for almost two straight days helped."

"Well, I mean, he's barely rested for weeks," Derek said, not taking his eyes off the TV for fear that he would be killed by a bunch of ghouls. "I can't blame him either. I smelted the sword that Sage woman bent in half."

"Yeah, it's hard to not be tense knowing that a person who is literally written into myths and legends as a God suddenly appeared in front of you," Trevor said. "And it's happened to Zeke and I twice."

"At least he's doing better," Natalie added. "Although..."

"What is it?" Buckets asked.

"He asked me what the date was, and he was weirded out by it. I mean, it's only November 12th..."

As she said that, Derek and Trevor turned to each other. Both gave the other an intense stare as if they were about to start fighting. Derek's eyes turned back to the TV, making his character get to the nearest altar to save his game. Then he turned his game and TV off, stretching a bit as he stood up.

"Well, I better get to working on stuff downstairs," Derek said abruptly. "I should be setting up for my annual commission for the Port City Theatre Company anyway."

With that, he jumped over the couch and practically ran to the basement door, slamming it behind him as he walked into the forge. The scene was so jarring that it caused Themis to lose her train of thought and look over to the basement door. Natalie and Buckets looked perplexed by the behavior of the three humans, and both turned towards Trevor.

"What's gotten into the three of you?" Natalie asked with a deep level of concern in her voice.

Trevor looked at all of them with a stern gaze, then stood up and walked over to grab their shoes before walking over to the back door.

"Come with me for a moment, all of you," they said.

None of them had ever heard Trevor sound so cold. All of them, including Themis, reluctantly followed suit. As they walked into the back yard, the cold late-autumn air hitting their lungs, they saw Trevor standing there, looking towards the ground. When they finally stood in front of the enby, they looked up, their eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Can you all do us a favor?" Trevor asked. "Can you stay away from the house tomorrow?"

"What? Why?" Natalie asked.

"Well," the non-binary said, running their hand through their neon green mohawk. "Let's just say that tomorrow's gonna get a bit chaotic between those two and I."

"What do you mean by 'chaotic'?" Buckets asked.

Trevor sighed heavily. "A long time ago, I caused a chain of events that turned into an annual tradition between the three of us as well as Sam." Natalie and Buckets look at each other, then back to Trevor and asked what they did. "I pulled a mildly harmless prank on Sam, and then she did one to Zeke while trying to get me. It was around the time Zeke hit Derek in the face was a wad of chocolate that things got out of hand."

"How old were you all when this happened?" Natalie asked.

"We were 8. So about 15 years ago," Trevor almost had a look of embarrassment on their face for a second, then shook their head. "Regardless, tomorrow's gonna get wild, and for your sake, I think you all should stay away from home. We're having a Prank Day starting tomorrow."

Buckets and Natalie looked at each other, dumbfounded by everything. Derek and Zeke were two of the most intelligent and mature human beings they have ever known. It was strange to think that either of them would do something so childish. Themis, meanwhile, heard most of what was said, but her thoughts were still divided. She then smiled and looked at Trevor with what they could only believe was elation.

"Awesome!" Themis almost shouted. "I could use a good walk tomorrow."

As all three of them stared at her in disbelief at her reaction. But it didn't matter to her. All she could think about was searching for Eris. She knew Liz had put out a search for the Black feline humanoid, but she didn't want to sit back and do nothing. After all, what if Marianne came back for her, or Eris was unable to escape the abusive woman? Themis wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't try to find Eris and bring her home.

'And a whole day without coming back here will be perfect for that,' she thought to herself.

Natalie and Buckets kept staring at her, then the feline looked over to the psychic and said, "Hey Nat, why don't you come with me to meet my humans?"

Natalie thought about his offer, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

With that, everyone went inside, except for Trevor, who stayed outside for a while. When the door back into the house closed, Trevor cracked their knuckles and stretched a bit. Then they turned around and opened the storage shed full of wooden training weapons and giggled.

"Alright, time to get to work," they said, pulling out a small bottle of freeze-proof lubricant and started pouring it on the handles of all the wooden swords.
----------------------

The next morning, Zeke stretched himself on his bed. He didn't feel the need to hold back, given that Natalie already teleported herself into the kitchen. It took him a moment to adjust to being awake, but once he was fully conscious, the man remembered to be wary of his friends. Zeke grabbed his glasses off the side table but didn't put them on, instead throwing on a pair of slippers. It wasn't out of fear that the ground would be cold, but rather that he might step in whatever Derek or Trevor decided to throw in front of his door this year.

Zeke then opened the door with a yawn, "aaaah, good morni-"

His train of thought was interrupted when the handle of a well-placed gardening rake hit him right between the eyes. Zeke paused for a second, then grabbed the rake and gently put it aside, finally putting his glasses on to scan the room for traps. There was nothing on the ground or around the area leading to the kitchen table, so he felt safe to walk over. As he did, Zeke noticed something akin to a catapult hanging over Trevor's door frame. Not only had it been used, but he could also make out traces of caramel and pecans scrapped against their open door.

Zeke adjusted his glasses and checked his seat before sitting down. There was nothing on it that could cause him harm, the legs looked fine, and nothing was out of the ordinary. Satisfied, he sat down to enjoy the food Buckets had made and then stared at Derek and Trevor with a glare.

"So, we're starting with basics this year, huh?" He asked, still rubbing his head from the small lump that was starting to form.

"Yeah yeah, Zeke," Trevor said, vigorously rubbing their head with a towel. "At least I didn't hit you with a heavy pie like SOMEBODY did."

They both turned to Derek, who said nothing, casually sipping his coffee instead. Zeke looked at him while taking a few good bites of his pancakes, watching Derek take another swig of coffee between bites.

"So Derek," Zeke said, the mug firmly pressed against the older man's lips. "Enjoying your coffee?"

Derek stopped drinking, his eyes turning to Zeke before staring at his cup, then to his coffee maker. The swordmaster felt an intense rumbling in his stomach, then he closed his eyes to contemplate his situation.

"...Where?" Derek asked.

"...in your creamer," Zeke chuckled. "I was amazed that I could find crystal clear laxative powder so you wouldn't notice."

"...When?"

"When Trevor and the girls went to bed. I knew that Trevor was going to wake up early to finish their stuff, and you were still in the basement."

Derek nodded, putting his mug on the table and standing up calmly with a sigh.

"Well played."

Derek started to waddle his way to the bathroom as fast as possible before the proverbial time-bomb detonated. He wasn't able to entirely shut the door behind him, and they could hear a painful groan as the pain of the additive to his coffee. Natalie and Buckets looked at each other with concern, then back to Zeke and Trevor.

"So," Buckets said, "how bad is this going to get?"

"Oh, we're just getting started," Trevor chuckled, finally throwing the towel over their chair. "That's why I warned you all last night to hightail it."

The feline glared at both of them. "Ladies, I think we should eat faster before these nimrods level the house."

"You two touch so much as one support beam in this house, and I'm throwing you both into a pillory for a month," Derek shouted from the bathroom.

It was followed by several strained grunts as his insides turned to outsides. Trevor and Zeke started chuckling as Buckets rolled his eyes.

"Regardless, I think we should eat faster," the feline brute grumbled.

Themis set her fork down and started impatiently bouncing her foot off the ground. When everyone heard the noise of her leg shaking the table and floor, they turned to see that Themis finished her plate in record time. She noticed them staring and got annoyed.

"Well?" She asked. "I'm waiting for both of you."

Natalie looked worried about the Catgirl but hastened her consumption, as did Buckets. They finished their breakfast, and all three got dressed for the cold air outside. After that, Natalie teleported the three of them away with a flash and a pop, leaving the three of them behind. Zeke smiled and stood up, stretching as they still felt stiff from sleeping for the last couple of days.

"Well, at least they're out of the way now," he said.

He then walked over to the fridge, carefully opening it, and noticed that it was fine. Zeke looked through the refrigerator, reaching in for a can of soda, figuring that everything else was potentially rigged. It was then that he noticed that a few of the cans were tagged with a dot. As he looked at them, it seemed like it was done with a marker. Zeke looked back to Trevor, who gave him a devilish grin, so he took one of the marked cans, figuring that the rest were somehow tampered with.

As Zeke opened the can and started drinking it, Trevor began to eat a piece of bacon and said, "did you really think that was a marker?"

Zeke's eyes went wide as he started to choke, throwing the can into the sink and glaring at the non-binary with tears in his eyes. His mouth felt like a portal to Hell had opened up along his tongue.

"What did you do?" He screamed, frantically trying to find something to halt the burning.

"I'll put it this way," Trevor said, scarfing down some scrambled eggs. "That was less a marker swipe and more of a hole where I stuck a syringe filled with Ghost Pepper juice. I hope you enjoy the chaser."

Zeke almost reached for the door of the fridge, thinking to drink milk, but then realized that it was probably a bad idea. Instead, he ran into his room to grab a bottle of honey he always kept on his dresser, just in case he needed to soothe his throat. He poured several spoonfuls of it onto his tongue, washing it around his mouth and swallowing it. After a few moments, the burning died down enough for it to be manageable, and Zeke stared up at the ceiling.

"This is gonna be a long day..." He lamented.
----------------

A couple hours later, Themis was walking around Downtown Port City. She had walked from Buckets' house all the way through Moose Pine Park, around Railway Plaza, past Port City General Hospital, and up Congress Ave, all in search of one person. The feline was trying hard to be calm and not cause a panic with any passersby, but she was freaking out about not seeing Eris.

She wasn't entirely worried about Eris, although the report she had seen at the hospital alarmed her. No, Themis' real concern was Marianne Tigh, the abusive woman who had manipulated and hurt the red-eyed Catgirl. Everything Eris had told her that day in the motel room mortified Themis. It was unspeakable, horrific, and scared Themis immensely to think about everything Eris had to endure because of that woman.

'No,' the feline thought to herself. 'Marianne's not a person. She's a monster, and I should know that from first-hand experience.'

That was the most important reason for Themis' frantic search. She had to find the love of her life before Marianne did. But she didn't know why Eris hadn't sought her or her friends out, and the tension was mounting fast.

As Themis was thinking, she realized that she had been too distracted to take in her surroundings. She saw that she was near Cobblestone Square, a small stone park at the heart of the Arts District. Themis gathered her surroundings; she was standing next to the Port City Art Museum and across the street from the State Theater. Her bearings gathered, she continued walking down Congress Ave towards City Center Square, figuring that she could check the library and maybe climb one of the taller buildings to get a vantage point.

She made her way past the local art college. Themis could see City Center Square in her sights. It made her think of the rainy day a couple days prior. When Marianne had possessed Jack and Ashley to attack them when the Darkness user had kidnapped her. It was also when Eris told her everything when Themis swore to recuse her from her abuser when they kissed.

'Themis...'

That kiss. How could Themis ever forget that kiss? It was raw, emotional, intense, two Catgirls caught in a powerful riptide of passion. The defining moment of their relationship, when they both firmly proclaimed their love for each other.

"Theeeemis!"

Other than her thoughts on Marianne and her frantic search for Eris, it was the only thought in her mind. Themis was sent to the moon and beyond by that kiss. She could feel Eris' lips on hers, the warmth of her body, the scent of the shampoo Eris used...

"THEMIS! OI!"

The feline finally snapped out of her emotional stupor, seeing someone waving at her in front of an office building across the street. It took her a second to see it was Liz O'Donnell, clearly trying to flag the tall feline humanoid down. Themis looked over at her nervously, then looked for oncoming traffic, and when the coast was clear, she jogged over to the Police Sargent. Liz's expression changed from joyous to worry as she approached.

"You alright, hon?" The officer asked.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Themis said.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, I just felt like looking for the woman I mentioned to you before," Themis said nervously.

The feline was starting to get fidgety, clearly anxious, and out of sorts. Liz could tell immediately that there was more to the situation than Themis was letting on. But, Liz knew how to get information out of her. It was the way she had always gotten the Uprisers to open up. Be it Zeke talking about his dad, Sam asking for advice about dealing with Ashley, or even getting Derek to speak to her about his mom dying. Liz always had this trick up her sleeve, a tried and true method of comforting someone.

"Hey, I'm about to go on my lunch break," she said, taking the feline by her hand. "Why don't we both go grab a bite to eat from a place I know?"

Themis was about to protest, but the officer's insistence mixed with her stomach growling at her won without her having said a word. She nodded, and Liz started leading her back across the street. After that, the Sargent led her through a series of side streets, weaving their way to Harborview. Liz then walked them down a wide alleyway between a candy store and a tourist trap, and there, they saw the entrance to Charlie's Burgers.

They walked in, and Themis could tell it was a bit on the grungy side. A small, quiet dive of a burger joint off the side of the road, but still, it felt comforting, a humble little restaurant making its own while surrounded by tacky shops and chain stores. They saw a large man with a thick beard behind the counter, wearing an apron and a paper hat as they walked in. He turned from getting stuff out of a nearby fridge and saw the pair, and he greeted them with a mighty grin.

"Hey Lizzy," he said with a thick, boisterous Boston accent. "Cheering uppa youngin' today?"

"Hey, Charlie," the officer replied. "Yeah, Themis here has quite the appetite, so I figured she needed some grub."

"Alright there," he said, throwing a few burgers on the grill. "I take
it ya want the usual, right?"

"Yeah," she chuckled. "Two bacon doubles, but only one large fry."

"Yeah yeah, loud and clear, Sarge."

The ladies sat down in a booth. Themis was looking around the place, mostly to avoid eye contact with Liz. The human woman almost chuckled at the cute yet vain attempt to dodge the conversation they were about to have. Liz decided to wait for a moment, letting the smell of food relax her friend, knowing that Themis' stomach was one of the feline's weaknesses. When Themis' nose started to twitch, and she started to lick her lips of the overwhelming smell of cooked meats, Liz chose that moment to strike.

"So, this woman you're searching for, Eris..." the officer said, Themis' eyes darted over to Liz with widespread panic. "Who exactly is she?"

Themis was shaken by this, looking off to Charlie as he was making their food. "N-nobody. She's just a person with information on what happened with Jack and Ashley the other day."

"Oh, Theemie, who the hell do you think you're fooling?" Liz chuckled, putting her chin in her hand and smiling at the poor girl. "Come on now, you can talk to me."

She looked deeply uncomfortable, but it didn't prevent Liz from continuing. "Look, I'm a cop, my fiancee is a psychologist, I'm also nearly a decade older than Zeke and his friends." Liz offered her hand to Themis after she said this, and the feline held onto it tightly. "Go on, hon, tell me what's wrong."

The feline begrudgingly told her as much as she felt comfortable saying about the kidnapping, about some of what Eris went through, about Marianne and her ability to manipulate a person's nightmares. She did start blushing when it came to Eris. Many of the things she said about her interaction with the other Catgirl were met with embarrassment or her voice trailing off. It didn't take long for Liz to figure it out; Themis talked about this other girl like Liz talked about Sumati. Sometimes, it takes someone in love to know someone is in love. Liz took a few fries into her fingers after Charlie came over with their food and looked straight at Themis.

"So, you're worried about your girlfriend," Liz said, popping the fries into her mouth. Themis almost choked on her burger when it was said.

"She's not my girlfriend," Themis said while wheezing.

"Oh please," Liz said. "You were talking and acting like a girl who was thrown on a bed and had the best kiss of her life with her crush. There's no way you two aren't going out."

Themis' face turned bright red right around the time Liz talked about 'being thrown on a bed.' The feline quietly acknowledged what happened under her breath. Then she told Liz what happened, the full details about the kiss, and Sargent O'Donnell almost cackled with how delightful it was.

"See Themis? You're totally her girlfriend," Liz boasted, and Themis tried to deny it again. "Themis, honey, when two consenting people kiss like that for that long, it's no longer a matter of being acquaintances or friends."

Themis almost curled up into a ball, still looking deeply worried, and Liz continued. "Look, I'm worried about her too. Being missing, presumably outside in the cold for a few days, is making me concerned for her safety. But, Rocco, Bobby, Brad, and a handful of officers that I personally trust are searching for her right now. We'll make sure she gets home safe, alright?"

The feline nodded, wiping a few tears away as she relaxed her posture. Liz smiled, taking another fry and popping it into her mouth. "Tell you what, after we eat, I'll call Bobby, and we can get you a ride home."

"Oh, I can't go home right now," Themis said, taking a bite of her burger.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. Trevor said something last night about them pulling pranks or something. I really wasn't paying attention..."

"Oh, lord!" Liz exclaimed loudly, putting her face into both of her hands. "Today's Prank Day, isn't it?"

"...Is it bad?" Themis asked with a tilt of her head.

Liz sighed, "Sort of. Those idiots are gonna be a mess later, though."

They continued talking, agreeing to go on patrol for a while instead. As Themis continued eating her meal, her thoughts drifted back home, wondering if her friends were ok.
------------

Derek opened the door to the back yard on the other side of town, sticking his hand inside. "Can one of you throw me a towel? And not one you messed with."

Zeke quickly went into the bathroom to grab one, then handed it to the bearded man, then asked, "Why, what happened?"

The swordsman walked back inside, limping a little, his head covered and dripping with green colored slime. "I dunno Zeke, you tell me what happened."

"It wasn't me. I stayed inside all night," Zeke replied. It was then that Derek noticed that the white t-shirt he was wearing was covered in a myriad of paint splotches. It was nearly every color except for blue, which Zeke was notoriously allergic to.

"Trying a new look?" Derek asked, and Zeke looked at him, confused.

"Wait, you mean you didn't rig the front door with about 20 paintball guns?"

"Um, no. I'd never use a paintball gun."

The two men turned to look at Trevor, who was vigorously scratching themselves. "Why are you both looking at me? Also, why did you put itching powder on all the towels in the upstairs bathroom?"

All three of them stared at each other, then it dawned on them who it was. The fourth member of this silly day, the one who could easily sneak around the house, would know where all the spare keys are and would absolutely go to the extreme on a day like this.

"It's Sam," Zeke sighed.

"Of course that maniac would," Derek groaned.

Trevor saw the slime covering Derek and asked, "so what did our 'Walking Bio-Hazard' do this time?"

The swordsman turned and looked at the back door, "There was a kiddie pool filled with slime, as well as a tripwire."

"Attached to?" Zeke asked.

"A baseball bat trap, it was set at shin height," Derek grumbled as he hobbled his way to the kitchen table for a moment. "Of course, I saw the tripwire a mile away and stepped over it..."

"Let me guess she had another one behind it?" Trevor chuckled.

"...Yep."

"So, you triggered it and went into the drink," Zeke said. Derek raised two fingers to him, and he nodded in acknowledgment. "...You gotta at least admire her enthusiasm."

"It could be worse, Dee," Trevor sighed. "I mean, she could have broken the treaty."

The three of them pondered that one document that they all signed when they were about 15. Sam had set a pretty severe stink bomb in all three of their lockers, one so potent that all three were sent home for fear that the smell would contaminate the school. Derek brought them home since he already had his license, given he was 16, and the moment his mom had smelt them coming towards the door, she ordered them to go around to the back of the house and strip.

"And, of course, your mom then burned our clothing and made us take several showers together until we got the stench off," Trevor said.

"Yep," Derek chuckled. "She then called Sam and ordered her to bring the two of you clothes so you two wouldn't be naked all day."

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone as furious as Elena von Waffen was that day," Zeke sighed. "When Sam came with our stuff, your mom banned her from the house until her birthday."

"Yeah, that was a fun day," Derek groaned, standing up and making his way to the garage. "By the way, speaking of the backyard, can you both go and grab all the wooden swords Trevor oiled yesterday?"

"Oh, so you noticed," Trevor chuckled.

"Wait, why do I have to get them?" Zeke asked, getting an intense stare from the weapon expert.

"Because of my coffee this morning, and because Trevor touched my bolas gun."

"Wait, how did you know it was me?"

"Because I know you too well, Trevor," Derek said, opening the garage door without thinking.

As he opened it, he heard a ping, and one of Sam's Pepper Spray bombs started to fall in front of him. He had no time to react, only to think of several German curse words as the gas erupted from the grenade. Derek grabbed his eyes and started screaming, running blindly towards the bathroom. He tripped over the couch, crawling the rest of the way to wash his eyes and throat out, all while shouting several obscenities and curing Sam's name. The others looked at him, then started walking outside, making sure not the baseball bat trap could no longer activate.

When they felt safe and made sure the door was shut, Zeke turned to Trevor and asked, "So, how many Soul Burn grenades did Sam give you?"

"Like four or five," the enby said sheepishly. "She also gave me the lube we now have to remove from his swords."

"Lovely," Zeke rolled his eyes and shook his head. "My ex-girlfriend really knows how to cause mayhem."

They walked over to the storage shed; it seemed alright for them to open. They both opened the doors and heard another pinging sound. Suddenly, they were hit from both sides with a volley of soft boiled eggs and topped off with approximately three gallons of ranch dressing as well as nacho cheese. As the multitude of overpowering smells struck them, Trevor wiped just enough of both from their eyes to be able to see.

"Yep, Samantha 'Chaos Incarnate' Garrett strikes again," they said.
----------------

"-And that's right around the time that I found out that Sumati had a sweet-tooth," Liz said, tapping her steering wheel with her thumb.

"Y-yeah, I guess you would come to that conclusion after all that," Themis replied to the window. She was beet red and doing everything to avoid eye contact after she had those intimate details thrust upon her. "Will she be mad about you telling me this?"

The off duty officer started giggling. "Are you kidding? Sumati once gave relationship advice to Sam by telling her all of my weaknesses. It made sparing with Sammy a bit more... interesting afterward."

Themis could see Liz blush as she put the blinker on to turn into Derek's driveway. The feline couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or arousal, but she was clearly flush and flustered. As they got out of the car, Liz saw the line of paintball guns aimed at the door and the Zeke shaped silhouette inside what appeared to be quite the paint job done on the front door. They could both see the kitchen lights on, but nothing else as Themis put her key into the lock. Before she could open it, the feline could smell a cacophony of odors slipping through the cracks. Themis turned to Liz with a look of concern.

"Liz, get ready," she said quietly. "I think we're about to see the aftermath."

"You're probably right," the officer nodded. "How 'bout I go first and assess the situation for you."

The Catgirl nodded, taking a few steps back. The police Sargent opened the door, turning on the living room and outside lights, and what she saw was a catastrophe. The room was a mess of smells and sights; stains of paint, slime, grease, and pepper spray were all over the place. Liz was thankful that she didn't have Themis' heightened sense of smell at that moment. Then again, even without it, it smelled like Thanksgiving leftovers that had been sitting out for three weeks. She wasted no time in opening the windows on either side of the front door, then poked her head out to Themis.

"Try to breathe through your mouth, hon," she said. "It smells pretty overwhelming in here."

The feline walked in, rushing over to the coat rack to grab Zeke's long, colorful scarf, wrapping it around her head to at least be able to breathe somewhat normally. Then, the two women started to move into the house to open up doors and windows, and that is when they saw the bodies.

Derek was lying face-first on the couch, hair matted, and his body covered in bruises. Meanwhile, Trevor was slumped against their bedroom door, their whole body red with scratch marks and covered in food stains. Zeke was between the coffee table and the TV. He looked pale, his arms also covered in bruises, and the faint smell of sulfur and hot peppers coming off his body. None of them were moving, but upon closer inspection, the two women could tell that they were at least still breathing.

Themis and Liz walked over to them to wake them up, it took longer than expected, but eventually, the three started to stir from their slumber. They opened their eyes, and while they did try to physically move from their precarious positions, it was all in vain; all three of them were looking weak and weary.

"What happened here? Who did this?" Themis asked, anxious that something happened while they were playing harmless pranks on each other.

Each of them raised their arms slowly, pointing at each other with whining groans. The two women turned to each other, then put their hands on their faces and rubbed their temples.

"You know," Liz grumbled, "it's amazing how you twits manage to survive this annual tradition of yours. Darwin would be baffled by it."

As the trio continued to moan in agony, Natalie returned, carrying several first-aid kits with her at Derek's request. She was shocked to be greeted by the sight of her boyfriend and his friends in their condition.

"What happened?" She asked, almost dropping the med-kits on the ground.

"Your boyfriend and the other two dumbasses went overboard pranking each other," Liz sighed. "Again." The officer then took the boxes from Natalie and gave a couple to Themis. "Natalie, be a dear and teleport these three up to the upstairs bathroom. Themis, come with us. We need to strip these three and throw them in the tub together."

Themis raised an eyebrow at how casually the plan rolled off her tongue. "It sounds like you've done this before."

"Several times," Liz replied. "At least they limited themselves to how much they can do to each other after the 'Skunk Bomb Incident.' Right kids?"

The only thing that could be heard for the rest of the night was the moans and groans of three people who never knew when to quit, a typical end to Prank Day among the Uprisers.

The end.
Second, people are upset by big tech jumping the gun and censoring everyone because it's one sided censorship and flies right in the face of due process. Kyle was always supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. He never was afforded that. It even took Fox, save for Tucker who was championing Kyle from day one, a short while to get behind him. I am shocked with how NOBODY is changing their story now. It's like they all saw the trial go sideways, pulled back, and when he was fully acquitted by a jury no less, they amped up the rage and are now back to calling him a vigilante killer. Jerry Nadler, the fat ass that pooed his pants in a press conference with Nancy Pelosi, is calling for federal inquiry
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These people, which includes Bob, will not stop until Kyle is in the ground, the judge is impeached, the jury is unable to earn money legitimately ever again, and change the rules so they will never be on the losing end again. Bob has been advocating for stuff like this, in his own namby pamby and not bannable way, for years. Even if Bob were to get everything his heart would ever desire he still wouldn't be happy. Bob at this point is incapable of meaningful and sustaining happiness.

Lastly, I saw this in my little twitter search
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So to all the true and honest Bob knob slobbers out there who might be lurking, I remember you and I will do my best to leave a record so everyone else can remember you the way you truly are, weirdo sex pests who let their fetish run past the point of no return.
Cheers lads!:drink:

Robert experiences a couple of tech errors.
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Tweet | Archive
>"and STILL no answer on the inability to enable to f---ing tip jar"

Probably because they know that no one would ever entertain the idea of paying Robert for his Twitter shit.
This might be a case where he might be telling the truth for one.
11-19-21 republican overreach.PNG

He tweeted this yesterday and when I saw it it had the protected tag on it. Now it's gone. It's a feature you can turn on and off at will. At the top of a tweet there's those three little dots and you can change who can reply to it at any time. His first big brained take from yesterday still has it's safety blanket tag on it.
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So even if it was just some sort of error on twitter's part, it's can be fully rectified. I don't fully believe him and think he's just taking the protection off of some of his tweets for engagement. My evidence for that is that Bob's a disingenuous cunt.

And to address the tweet itself, Marc Richards, Hard R to his fans, did not slam Biden. His quote is “President Biden said some things, I think are so incorrect and untrue — he is not a white supremacist. I’m glad that he at least respects the jury verdict." and that's it. Hard R also stated in that press conference that he is a lawyer for clients not a lawyer for causes as a direct shot at Lin Wood. Good job having your finger on the pulse of things Lord of Lynn by not paying attention and getting all of your info from a headline, retard.



One last thing, it's about Bob's self censoring. He's used the excuse that it's funny to him, like when you hear bleeped out words on TV, which I think we're all in agreement that that's both wrong and asinine. Twitter apparently has some sort of AI that scans your words and if you say something naughty, it seem predominantly focused on swears and slurs, in reply to someone or quoting someone you get an error message saying "oof that's a yikes chief! You might hurt someone's feelings? Are you sure you wanna go through with this?" and you then have the option to edit, delete, or just post it. I fully believe that he's censoring himself purely so people cannot flag him down for hateful conduct or incitement/promotion of violence. You know, things this stupid fucker has been begging for since 2014? And it's biting him in the ass? Say it ain't true Lou!
 
Or he does know that one should not do run on sentences but smugly ignores that advice because he can get away with it, or so he thinks, and goes full Stream of Consciousness as if it's some elevated, galaxy brained means of conveying his thoughts. Who the frick is he copying by doing that, by the way? Does Yahtzee over at Zero Punctuation pull that shit too?
Not particularly. To grab a random transcript of a ZP episode (Lightning Returns) vs Bob's Eternals review and do something completely unscientific (as I'm not checking for things like periods as abbreviations, nor double-checking the transcript quality) :

Eternals punctuation: !=6 .=29 ?=7 TOTAL: 42
Word count: 2327
Janky words-per-sentence count: 55

Lightning Returns punctuation: !=6 .=40 ?=9 TOTAL: 55
Word count: 1361
Janky words-per-sentence count: 25

So a Bob sentence is over twice as long as a sentence from a guy who built a reputation on talking nonstop. And this is without considering Bobby's tendency to use question and exclamation marks mid-sentence, which means this count is actually biased to make Bob's sentences look shorter.
 
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Can you spot the difference between these two tweets?

TWEET #1:
Screen Shot 2021-11-20 at 09.38.31.png


TWEET #2:
Screen Shot 2021-11-20 at 09.38.31B.png

They're the exact same post, but I edited out the the ROFL emoji from the second image. With the "ROFL", Bob implies he's one of the "good guys" (LOL!) and that he can be redeemed; without the "ROFL", it shows a level of honesty that has always been well beyong Moviebob's intellectual capabilities.

P.S.: We know your soul's beyond redemption, Moviebob. We've known that for years that your soul's well beyond redemption.
 
I just think its funny that Bob calls everyone he doesn't like fascists and nazis, yet his recurring insult seems to be "you aren't a person".
But of course this just repeating an irony that's been pointed out time and time again on this thread.
When Blob is mad, I am glad.
You must be happy all the time then.
 
I like how Bob is going full Fascist advocating for a left wing totalitarian society. Someday we will be addressing him as MovieFurher for fear of the firing squad.
No we won't. He'll be dead in a roadside ditch long before we have to worry about him getting power of any kind.

Question for you fine people (and robots)- Is Lardo Retardo the Apex Tard on all of Twitter?

He has plenty of competition, but I have a hard time finding anybody else with his combination of drooling imbecility, extreme Dunning-Kruger, pants-shitting insanity, and smug arrogance.
 
P.S.: We know your soul's beyond redemption, Moviebob. We've known that for years that your soul's well beyond redemption.
I have a hard time believing that Bob ever had a soul to begin with. Just look into those rooster eyes and you will see nothing.

As for Bob's reaction to the Rittenhouse verdict: quelle surprise. One of the things I find utterly hilarious about it that it demonstrates that he is a believer in the truest sense when it comers his thinker/believer dichotomy. Did Bob actually look at the evidence, witness testimony, or the prosecution's courtroom shenanigans and manipulation of evidence? Ha! It doesn't even matter to him that the person that shot him in the arm admitted that he drew his flock first, under oath. Nor did it matter that "protestors" were rioting in a poor ethnic neighborhood, setting fire to storefronts, and bashing storeowners faces in with rock. He believed the leftist Twitter dogma that Rittenhouse was a white supremacist without question or consideration for the facts of the case. Like the prosecution in this case, he wanted a win at all costs.

Odin help us. The whole debacle reminds me of final case of the first Ace Attorney where the prosecutor was corrupt as sin, and all to keep his "pristine" winning record.
 
from Arkle
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What a truly amazing train of thought. People Bob insults = Nazis, you dislike this behaviour = you are mad he insults nazis = you are a nazi and part of the KKK. Thus, anyone who disagrees with Bob is a subhuman Nazi.

It's like that professor of logic bit Norm Macdonald did except it starts with "hey you like Moviebob?" And ends on "oh so you're part of the KKK."
 
I have a hard time believing that Bob ever had a soul to begin with. Just look into those rooster eyes and you will see nothing.

As for Bob's reaction to the Rittenhouse verdict: quelle surprise. One of the things I find utterly hilarious about it that it demonstrates that he is a believer in the truest sense when it comers his thinker/believer dichotomy. Did Bob actually look at the evidence, witness testimony, or the prosecution's courtroom shenanigans and manipulation of evidence? Ha! It doesn't even matter to him that the person that shot him in the arm admitted that he drew his flock first, under oath. Nor did it matter that "protestors" were rioting in a poor ethnic neighborhood, setting fire to storefronts, and bashing storeowners faces in with rock. He believed the leftist Twitter dogma that Rittenhouse was a white supremacist without question or consideration for the facts of the case. Like the prosecution in this case, he wanted a win at all costs.

Odin help us. The whole debacle reminds me of final case of the first Ace Attorney where the prosecutor was corrupt as sin, and all to keep his "pristine" winning record.
Some people seem to be just "born evil" (I've heard anecdotal reports and read some on reddit, but who knows if any of that kind of story on reddit is even true). Lord knows how it could happen, but some people change drastically if they've had oxygen cut off to their brain, or had a certain part of the brain damaged (I'm looking at you, forceps delivery). It's not clear whether Bob's just an empty shell with a void where his soul ought to be, or whether something else is in there with him somehow for some reason that's giving him that empty rooster stare/sanpaku eyes. Maybe he accepted Mario into his heart but Bowser got in instead? Apparently enough was wrong with him early on that even his parents noticed (hence the therapy in childhood), but since Bob is exceptional and autistic, therapy failed because Bob thought it was a great idea to outsmart his therapists - which only proves that if someone doesn't want help, there's no helping them, and also bob is fat and stupid.

Evidence in the rittenhouse case won't convince anybody that Kyle wasn't thinking he was gonna go kill him some darkies or darkie-lovers, because these people are so messed up in the head that they think that's exactly what they'd do were they in Kyle's position. They honestly think Kyle was trying to stop racial justice from happening by "opposing" BLM (even though he actually didn't). But these are smoothbrained crayon-eating blue curtain analyzers, with the simplistic view of "If you're not with us, you're against us". They'd have no problem at all if Kyle was on their side, setting dumpsters on fire, all while carrying that AR-15. After all, one of them was a glock fanboy.

What a truly amazing train of thought. People Bob insults = Nazis, you dislike this behaviour = you are mad he insults nazis = you are a nazi and part of the KKK. Thus, anyone who disagrees with Bob is a subhuman Nazi.

It's like that professor of logic bit Norm Macdonald did except it starts with "hey you like Moviebob?" And ends on "oh so you're part of the KKK."
Well, to be fair, Bob unpersons and names as KKK anyone to the right of Joe Biden, because it's obvious that the moderates and right wing (to him) is nothing but a conglomeration of Haters, hating the troons, darkies, whamens, and bundles of sticks. It's the super-duper-simplistic "If you're Right Wing, you're Nazi because Nazis are Right Wing" in a tremendously exceptional conclusion because bob can't grok that "All As are B therefore All Bs are A" is a logical fallacy. He wouldn't call someone Nazi for disagreeing with him about something incredibly superficial (like whether Hooters or Discount Dave and Busters has better food), but he would call someone a Nazi for disagreeing in such a way that activates his autism into concluding "That person likes A, a bunch of Nazis/Republicans/Holy Autism Warriors like A, therefore that person is a Nazi/Republican/Holy Autism Warrior."
 
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