Excuses and Extinction

Rabbi Vril, you don’t understand. The odds are stacked against us: taxes are astronomical, borders are open, the curriculum is a disaster, and—oh, don’t forget—we’re all metabolically impaired. Reproducing? Impossible. Instead, we’ll whine and point fingers at everything under the sun, from celestial alignments to Bill Gates, the government, Indians, and even the bankers. They’re all clearly conspiring against our birth rates.😡

Let’s not forget our star player in this circus of excuses: the average 45-year-old femoid. You know the one. She’s got a closet full of skeletons—scratch that—roosters.

“Oh God, please don’t mock me! I know I’ve been plowed by countless roosters, but you don’t understand, Rabbi Vril. I’ve been metabolically impaired! 😭That’s why I didn’t have children. And if you dare poke fun at me, I’ll sic my 90,000 Twitter simps on you faster than you can say ‘personal accountability!’"

Honestly, words fail to capture the ineffable hatred I feel toward this collective abdication of responsibility. You’re too weak to reproduce, too self-absorbed to continue your lineage, and frankly, unworthy of the blood coursing through your veins.

And God forbid anyone suggests you exercise a modicum of discernment when picking a partner. “Oh no, Rabbi Vril, you don’t want us to reproduce!”

Spare me. Especially you Americans—shame on you. You live in a country with a standard of living that outshines so-called “elite” nations like Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. Everything is handed to you on a silver platter. You’re safer than Fort Knox, yet you have the gall to conjure up endless excuses for your dwindling birth rates. Is it the Indians? The bankers? Joe Biden? Maybe the aliens this week?

You’re the most promiscuous generation your nation has ever known and the least self-aware. A despicable mob of self-indulgent milksops.

Contrast this pitiful display with our great-grandparents in war-torn Europe. They faced the very definition of adversity: nothing to eat, bullets flying from the Yankees, and the ever-looming threat of a Communist butcher. Did they falter? Did they whimper about metabolic impairments?

Y: “Let’s have children!”
X: “YES!”

Meanwhile, you, with your avocado toast and Wi-Fi, clutch your pearls and write dissertations on why you simply can’t.

You don’t belong here. This world is for those willing to take responsibility for their lives, their choices, and their future. If that’s not you, boo hoo.

I have no idea whose image this is. 👇🏻

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