You think it’s a coincidence that I can’t get a girlfriend? Hell no. The reptilians have brainwashed women into rejecting men like me. They’ve got them chasing after soy boys and beta cucks while the real men, the ones who know what’s up, are left in the dust. But I’m not bitter. Nope. I’m focused. I’ve got a mission. I’ve been hunting these scaly bastards for months now. I’ve got a whole system:
Step 1: Track their movements. They’re sneaky, but they leave clues—like a faint smell of sulfur or a weird shimmer when they walk.
Step 2: Follow them to their lairs, usually disguised as jewish community centers or banks. Classic.
Step 3: Expose them. (Harder than it sounds when the world’s against you.)
Just yesterday, I tailed one to a Starbucks. It was sipping a latte, pretending to be human, but I saw its tongue dart out for a split second. I tried to confront it, but the barista told me to leave. Typical. The system protects them. But I’m not afraid. I’ve got nothing to lose. No job, no friends, no life—thanks to the reptilians and their feminist agenda.
