The machine is still working overtime to shape people's thinking out there man. So, here is the next installment of our hero railing against the people and machine that is at work in sanitizing Lindsay Clancy: “You want to know how fucked up this has become? Look at who they think needs saving. A mother plans the murder of her three children and carries it out, and these ghouls immediately go to fucking DEFCON 1—not over three murdered children, but over the horrifying possibility that the woman who murdered them might actually be held responsible. Suddenly it's all hands on deck. Find an explanation. Find a diagnosis. Find a trauma. Find an expert. Find something that will convince the world she's really the fourth victim here. Because being a woman is hard. Apparently being one of her children was harder. And this shit doesn't happen by accident. There's an entire ecosystem devoted to producing it. The activists create the grievance. The academics intellectualize it. The advocacy groups weaponize it. The media sells it. Social media mass-produces it. Then the NPC parrots arrive. Millions of people who've spent fifteen minutes thinking about something repeating the conclusions of people who've spent fifty years teaching them which conclusions are socially permitted. That's the scam. They've mistaken being programmed for being educated. They've been marinating in this shit so long that they don't recognize how fucking bizarre they've become. A mother murders three children and they're rummaging through her life like defense attorneys at a yard sale. Depression? Grab it. Trauma? Put it in the truck. Hormones? Absolutely. Patriarchy? Fuck it, take two. Anything except the one thing sitting right in front of them: She chose to murder three children. And somehow I'm supposed to believe they're the sophisticated ones because they can make that sentence complicated. Well, I have a complication for them. Where are the kids? Seriously. Where the fuck are the kids in all this compassion? I've seen endless stories about the difficulty of motherhood. The agony of being a woman. Her mental health. Her suffering. Her fears. Her struggles. Her hopes. Where's the goddamned ten-page story about them? Tell me what made them laugh. Tell me what they wanted for Christmas. Tell me which one was counting down to a birthday. Who loved picnics. Who hated bedtime. What they wanted to be when they grew up. Tell me their dreams. I haven't seen one goddamned story about that. Not one. She gets psychologists explaining what was happening inside her head. I'd like somebody to tell me what was happening inside theirs. What was the oldest one excited about that week? Was somebody learning to ride a bike? Was there a birthday coming? Did one of them have a Christmas present they'd been begging for since July? Who had a best friend? Who had a favorite stuffed animal? What did they think tomorrow was going to be like? Because children believe in tomorrow. That's practically their fucking job. And she took every tomorrow they had. No birthdays. No picnics. No Christmas mornings. No first dates. No graduations. No weddings. No sitting around a table thirty years from now laughing about the stupid shit they did when they were kids. Nothing. She gets a future people are fighting to preserve. They got futures she erased. And somehow the media has spent more time asking us to crawl inside the mind of the person who killed them than introducing us to the three human beings she removed from the fucking earth. That's not compassion. That's evil with a press credential. It's an obscene fascination with the perpetrator while the victims quietly disappear beneath the narrative. And then the people who've swallowed this poison start lecturing everybody else about empathy. Empathy? You want to impress me with your empathy? Remember the fucking children. Before you explain her, remember them. Before you diagnose her, remember them. Before you tell me how difficult her life was you god-damned monsters, tell me about the terror they must have felt when they realized their mother wasn't just playing a game with them And before you demand mercy for the person who still gets to wake up tomorrow morning— tell me why nobody seems interested in the three children who never fucking will.”

He wanted the rich to pay taxes This is why they teamed up against him