Picture this: I’m halfway through roasting Dutchy, fingers flying, when my fried back, thanks to a Sunday mishap and a cocktail of four meds, knocks me out cold. I wake up to a keyboard crime scene: half my epic takedown vanished, replaced by 100 lines of blank space. Whoops, my bad! I know you’re shedding crocodile tears over my back, but that’s why my reply was a hot mess.
Here’s the deal: Dutchy isn’t just your run of the mill libtard, he’s a rare breed of unhinged, sicko weirdo, the kind that makes your skin crawl and your browser history need a hazmat suit. He’s not garden variety crazy, he’s a custom order freakshow, too twisted for even the left’s low bar. So, back he goes to my one and only ignore list, where he can stew in his own psychotic sludge. Adios, Dutchy, keep scaring the normies in your unhinged little bubble!