💀💀💀“Just Asking Questions” Is the Coward’s Favorite Lie💀💀💀
👁By your favorite habitual line-crosser👁
👁FELONIOUS ACADEMIC👁
💀💀💀These god damn Phonies come first. Always. Fake ass motherfuckers, The plastic saints of borrowed conviction, walking around in rented personalities like it’s a clearance sale on identity. Felonious Academic doesn’t just dislike these type, he studies them like a disease vector because im deathly afraid of catch whatever contagion these cosplayer fall ill to. Fakes, frauds, fugazis, fuck men and women who speak in pre-approved phrases, those type, whose thoughts arrive pre chewed yet everso nicly plated, whose outrage is algorithmically assigned to exploit rage fiens redlining their societal woes. They don’t live ideas, they accessorize them. Their personalities are only mood boards. fuckin mood rings for gamer twinks playing tough guy after avataring GTA all summer. Their convictions? Seasonal. You can smell it on them like a stink of something full of shit. With that synthetic confidence drenched, like a cheap cologne. A motherfucker casted in his own reality. Greased up with red Oil that hes trying to pass off as blood.
💀💀💀Then there’s the performance addicts, those god forsaken fools, those the ones who turned existence into a stage play with no audience but them goddamn selves. Every sentence is a monologue, every belief a costume change or another take. These are the people who confuse visibility with fuckin substance, applause with truth. They document their lives so aggressively they forget to actually live them. Dying off their souls They pretend to be thorough, but they aint Felonious Academic tourough, I watche them the way a wolf watches a dog chasing its own fuckin tail, equal parts fascinated and embarrassed by way of their stupidity. They’ll scream about authenticity while filtering their own soul into something more digestible, more clickable, more dead. Less real
💀💀💀Nothing irritates me more than intellectual cowardice dressed up as humility, god fuckin damit . Fuck that, “I’m just asking questions,” they always say that's shit, while hiding behind plausible deniability like it’s Teflon vest. No spine, no stake, no fuckin risk pussies, just soft-handed sticky palm with disinterested skepticism that never commits to anything but ttthe days grift, he never bleeds. Because he never cuts, I once shanked a in ate for farting on my mattress, cut him for cutting the cheese. These fucks fear being wrong more than they desire being right, how pathetic, they hover in this purgatory of half thoughts and disclaimers and they rape the truthful opinions that rebuke their slop. Felonious Academic? I’d rather be violently fuckin wrong than politely hollowed out. At least error has teeth bitch
💀💀💀And finally, perhaps the worst scumbag of them all, the always everso self aware fraudster. The one who knows it’s all hot fugazi bullshit and still leans into the pile anyway. The ironic con artist. The postmodern parasite who says, “Nothing’s real,” as justification for being nothing at fuckiin all. That’s the blasphemous endgame of the rot theyve. Propagated us with. Not slight of hand deception type shit, but with willful ignorance to boot. Felonious Academic doesn’t rage at these fuckboy types. No. He goes quiet. Because once a man makes peace with being fake, there’s nothing left to argue with. You’re not debating a person anymore, you’re debating a mask that already swallowed the face up. I'm here to gag your regurgitation
