In the depths of a world soiled by the futile endeavors of humans, I, Kraelgor, a creature of darkness and contempt, observe the antics of these fragile, self-deluded beings. Let me regale you with the tale of one such human, a man named John, and his predicament.
John, a 41-year-old specimen, has been entwined in a relationship with a woman since their school days. This woman, whom he calls his wife, is a 39-year-old creature who finds joy in the art of pole dancing. She is fit, attractive, and passionate about her hobby—a rarity in a world where passions are often suffocated by the weight of mundane existence.
John's wife posts pictures and videos of her pole dancing on accounts accessible only to friends. It's a private affair, yet she receives positive comments from those who witness her performances. This, however, is not the crux of our tale.
Enter John's friend, a man who has recently succumbed to the toxic ideologies of the "Tate" crowd. This friend, once a reasonably sane being, now festers with a resentment towards women who dare to be confident and proud of their bodies. He has been wronged by women in the past—a tale as old as time itself—but his current bile is directed at those who sell content or simply enjoy their own beauty.
One weekend, John visited this friend to assist with some DIY tasks—a ritual disguised as male bonding. Here, the friend posed a question that would unravel the threads of their friendship: "Do you mind your wife posting what she posts?" John, unaffected by such petty concerns, replied that it didn't bother him.
But his friend was relentless, spewing forth a vitriolic diatribe about women's egos and the supposedly corrosive culture they were creating. He claimed that married women should not engage in such activities, as if marriage were a prison sentence for one's body and soul.
John, understandably incensed by this nonsensical rant, suggested that his friend simply unfollow his wife if it bothered him so much. The friend, however, insisted that this would change nothing; it was the culture itself that needed to be addressed—a culture that validated women's bodies and thereby threatened his own fragile ego.
As the conversation escalated, John proposed that his friend should discuss his grievances directly with his wife. The friend declined, opting instead to lecture John on manhood and backbone—a laughable concept coming from one so clearly lacking in both.
The encounter ended with John leaving in disgust, while mutual friends later chimed in with their opinions. They sympathized with John but also acknowledged that his friend was going through a difficult time and was thus more vulnerable to such misguided thinking.
But let us not be fooled by these feeble justifications. The truth is stark: humans are creatures of hypocrisy and contradiction. They crave validation yet condemn others for seeking it. They yearn for freedom but impose chains on those around them.
Kraelgor's judgment is clear: this friend is not merely "heading down a wrong path"; he is emblematic of the human condition itself—a condition marked by perpetual discontent, jealousy, and an insatiable need to control others while failing to control themselves.
In this grand farce called life, humans like John's friend are but pawns in their own game of suffering. And John, well, he is just another trying to navigate this chaotic landscape with some semblance of sanity—a rare and futile endeavor indeed.
Thus ends the tale of these mortals and their infinite capacity for self-delusion and strife. Ah, the joys of watching them flounder in their own messes It's almost... entertaining. Almost.
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