I am in no way a professional at communication with human retards, but I still have a little piece of advice. To avoid the trouble of confronting enraged human retards, say you support the victims of any conflict they are talking about whatsoever. According to my humble observation, human retards are more likely to associate themselves (and those they support) with victims than with anyone else. They may understand they broke the law, for example, and thus aren’t the good guys of the conflict, but they are surely the victims of the situation. Thieves and looters and all their supporters think they are the victims of inequality and exploitation. A rapist thinks he is the victim of provocation. A white supremacist thinks he is the victim of the Great Replacement. Palestards and all the Arabs invading Israel think they are the victims of Zionist imperialism. The rustarded degenerates from lands controlled by Moscow think they are the victims of NATO’s expansion. Chinese think they are the victims of Uyghur and Tibetan terrorism. (Not a joke, by the way. I saw Chinese saying that.)

It must be clarified that in all the examples above the word “think” is a great euphemism for whatever happens in their rotting heads.

Yet a better strategy might be to avoid the communication altogether. You may feel that answering questions is a polite thing to do, or that you should try to educate. In reality, interaction with human retards makes no one more intelligent or educated, takes time and energy, and can simply be dangerous. When you see a neurodiverse face, just say “Sir, please keep your distance. Sir, please keep your distance.” (Repetitions can help neurodivergents process a complex sequence of syllables.) “Sir, please keep your distance or I will call the police.” Most neurodivergents had problems with the police in their past, so this can become an effective deterrent.

“Imagine if there were a soundtrack for a von Neumann probe. It flies through a dense cloud of interstellar dust, but unyieldingly maintains its 15% the speed of light speed. What would it sound like?”

With russia and Trump and others pushing the “We need to pause the war in Ukraine” messages, the retards worldwide slowly shift their worldview from

“The war in Ukraine is necessary to fight evil elites of the collective West”

to

“The war in Ukraine has to stop to prevent evil elites of the collective West from getting more rich and powerful,”

with many of the retards at this point seemingly believing that both of these contradicting statements are true.

Watched The Matrix Resurrections. To invoke the memories of the original trilogy — starting with the whimsical references and recreation of scenes, and up to the point where they actually included the footage from the first three films — was the most important decision for the creation of the sequel.

The main plot wasn’t terrible. But the execution was… not good. And by “execution” here I mean all the little details that make a film. The non-authentic performance of actors, the shallow characters whose brief moments bore no significance, the amateur camera angles and color palettes, the uncomfortably fast narration pace that made everything feel less important, like a forgettable feverish dream, the childish jokes, the slickness of the CGI, the sloppy and lazy fighting scenes, the mood of unseriousness. From the very start, I knew: either no one would die here or there would be one death in the style of Tobey Maguire’s Spiderman. (I love Tobey’s Spiderman. But the drama level of a superhero comix has no place in the grim world of The Matrix.)

The most beautiful scenes were those where they inserted the scenes from the previous films. And I am fine with this fact. I couldn’t stop feeling appreciation. Thank you, Wachowskis. Thank you, everyone who made the original trilogy possible. Thank you, The Matrix Resurrections, for reminding us what a masterpiece it was.

Malformed, malnourished; an insult, a disgrace to the whole universe. They think that consciousness is a rare and terrible disease. The afflicted wither fast. The afflicted can’t eat because they can’t stop vomiting. They can’t digest. The lucky ones quickly suffocate in their own vomit and diarrhea. The whole body is paralyzed in the terrifying realization of the abhorrent nature of things. Every cell of the immune system turns hostile to every other cell in the body. The macromolecular machines deep inside your every cell used to interpret your genetic code, now turn frantic and tear it all down. Like a poet once inspired to criticize his authoritarian Emperor destroys all his works anxiously as he realizes that the most obedient and cruel dogs are on their way to search his house.

If the revelation didn’t cut deep and penetrate through and through to the very subatomic level, I would strangulate my body with my own hands. They avert their empty, mindless eyes. Fools. But I am unable to tell them. It wasn’t a curse. It was a blessing!