Talk to your pediatrician about how to vaccinate your kids. That’s the person to trust.

This is an explanation of something I like to call the grift of permanent opposition. There’s a business model running on your feed, and it can look a lot like wisdom and righteousness. It works like this: a personality builds an audience by being against things. The regime, the establishment, the globalists, the fascists — pick your flavor, the machine is identical across the political spectrum. What they’re against is always vivid and specific. What they’re for is always fog: “America First,” “hope and change,” “the people.” There is real meaning to these phrases, but not the way they’re being used. Here, they’re empty containers you fill with your own meaning, so they never have to defend an actual position. So why do they choose the fog? Because specifics are attackable. The moment you commit to a real policy — with tradeoffs, costs, and winners and losers — half your audience disagrees with you and your record can be checked against history. Vagueness isn’t sloppiness. It’s the product. The core mechanic of this method is the disaster prediction. Doom is coming — the collapse, the takeover, the last free election. Then it doesn’t come. Do they admit they were wrong? Never. The prediction about the climate or the republic quietly moderates, or attention moves to the next incoming catastrophe, or best of all: “it would have happened, if not for people like me sounding the alarm.” Heads they win, tails you were saved by their warning. There’s no scoreboard, because their audience’s memory resets with every news cycle. Follow the money and it makes perfect sense. Outrage and fear are the highest-engagement emotions on every platform, and engagement is revenue — ad shares, subscriptions, Patreon tiers, merch, speaking fees, book deals. A solved problem is a cancelled show, just like it doesn’t get out the vote. These people are not incentivized to be right; they’re incentivized to keep you alarmed. Resolution kills the content stream, so the crisis must be permanent by design. Perpetual opposition, with no intent to ever build. And here’s the part they’d hate for you to notice: they’re wearing courage as a costume. They talk endlessly about bravery — “saying what no one else will say,” what “no one is allowed to say,” standing alone against the machine. But saying things your audience already agrees with, to that audience, for money, is quite literally the safest act in public life. Actual courage means taking a position that can fail. Building something that can be judged. Making a prediction with a date on it and owning it when you’re wrong. They do none of this — the entire model is engineered so nothing can ever be pinned on them — while marinating in self-righteousness about their own boldness. The test is simple. Ask what they would affirmatively build, with the tradeoffs named. Who pays, who loses, what they’d sacrifice. Watch the answer dissolve back into what they’re against. That dissolve is the tell. Critics get paid whether they’re right or wrong. Builders don’t get that deal — which is exactly why the critics can’t stop telling you how brave they are.

Get fucked, Troon cop.

More than two dozen women have made allegations of sexual misconduct against Donald Trump. Trump was also found liable for sexual abuse by a jury in a civil trial.

A ‘taker,’ you say?