Pushing Maximum Density

Bloated gassy creatures in swimsuits and the denial of agency and reality.

Population control beauty standards. From sex appeal to type 2 diabetes in one generation.

There’s thickness and then there’s

THICKNESS.

Some people are so THICK, their cellulite makes the cover of corporate bikini rags. Other people are so thick they now believe that morbid obesity is beautiful.

It’s easier to believe a noble lie that feels good for the thick younger generations yet helps nobody than it is to put down a triple bacon cheeseburger and go move around. Bloated gassy misery loves high caloric low sustenance company, even in the form of other bloated gassy loafers pushing maximum density.

“O-M-G, if like she can make the cover of Sports Illustrated, then like I totally can too and I don’t even need to stop supersizing my combo meals!”

The elusive inspirational idea of aspirational beauty is now dead. Hard work and dedication through discipline and setting goals no longer matter. Anyone can be anything if we all agree to deny reality hard enough and make exceptions for the weakest among us because forget strength and survival, we’re only as tolerant as we are accepting the deficiencies of our weakest links. Instead of a rising tide to help everyone, let’s scuttle all boats until we’re all at the bottom of the sea. And so we rework our western stage play to accommodate all actors while denying their agency and ignoring the hard truths of reality.

Anyone can be a supermodel because nothing needs to be earned when meritocracy is dead. Even bloated gassy cows can be supermodels. Think about the real supermodel who knows this but has to keep her mouth shut or risk never working again. Everyone plays their part.

Throw one of these bloated gassy cows in a bikini and work a little photoshop magic for the latest Sports Illustrated Bloated Cows with penises in swimsuits edition and you have the perfect visual of just how deep the present rot festers in the diseased bowels of western civilization.

Yes, some of them now have dicks. Soon there will be trans models topless after “top surgery” with bulging prosthetic dicks in their bikini bottoms. You think I’m joking, but give it a year. They’ll expect us all to agree that this mentally confused person is incredibly brave and beautiful. When mass mental illness is mainstreamed and encouraged through over-medication and blind tolerance then the operation continues until we all agree to be mentally confused.

The entire western world becomes one dysfunctional insane asylum until enough of us scream “ENOUGH!”

Cue the mob of brainwashed pantymelts into their apoplectic screaming formations: “What did you say?! Don’t be such an intolerant dick! Those top surgery scars are beautiful and so is that fake dick.”

Somewhere in some dark oak-paneled cigar smokey room, there are some three-piece suited men having a hell of a laugh at our expense. When they’re not busy planning our futures, they’re testing the limits of our own acceleration toward collective insanity. Everything is one woke gag diversion after another.

You might think this is an overreaction, but this is not a small thing. Denial of reality is an incredibly BIG problem. Not the dicks. Although if you’re going to give yourself a fake prosthetic dick, you might as well make it BIG and THICK.

In Russia, they are not putting bloated gassy cows with prosthetic dicks in bikinis and calling them beautiful. Nor is China or India or Hungary or based Brazil. They have no time for it in Sri Lanka where food is scarce and politicians' heads are being substituted for cricket balls. Even in holy Ukraine they blocked the trans people from leaving the country, put a rifle in their hands, and sent them directly to the Donbas meat grinders.

Born with a penis but lopped it off? Go and fight for oligarchs and western war hyenas who are busy washing American taxpayer money through the Kyiv launder mats.

They’re not even doing this obesity glorifying in Poland or France. In France they don’t sell a size larger than XL and their XL is the equivalent of a U.S. large. They still fat shame in France because they know the value of embarrassing someone toward motivation.

When I lived in France I went to see a general practitioner for a health issue. Before parting ways he asked how my health was otherwise. “Fine,” I replied.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Because maybe you could lose some kilograms and be healthier.”

Loud record scratch noise.

What? A doctor wanting their patient to be healthier while not forcing some deadly addictive pill on them?

At the time I had let myself go to 196 pounds but was lifting weights and jogging a few times a week so didn’t think anything of it. But my mid-section was heavier and I knew the doctor was right. The French doctor had “fat-shamed” me and bless his soul for that because over the next two months I lost 18 pounds, most of it belly fat, and got fitter than I had been since my early twenties.

Fat-shaming works. Glorifying morbid obesity and type 2 diabetes is something only a mentally ill society would do.

Imagine the French doctor relocating to the states and telling a patient to get some exercise and lose some weight because they were less than 20 pounds overweight. He would have to do that with 90% of his patients.

Hyperoffended nitwit takes out 60-megapixel camera phone in a luxury SUV. Presses the streaming button on instashame to perform for their 12 followers.

“So, like, get this everyone. Oh my god you guys my new doctor, this French guy just told me to like, lose weight. I know right? He like totally fat-shamed me and like I was so just, oh my god I can’t even believe what just happened. I’m like, literally in shock. Okay, yeah, I’m going to call my lawyer. That’s like, just not okay with me. First I’m totally starving and Carl’s Jr. sounds sooooo good right now.”

Only in America, Canada, and the UK is morbid obesity being sold to young girls as “beautiful”. Sports Illustrated used to be a magazine for men, especially the Swimsuit issue. Do the young men today get turned on by looking at bloated gassy cows in bikinis? While testosterone levels in all men have been plummeting by design for the depopulation agenda (poisoned water and foods, EMF, plastics), it just doesn’t seem like evolutionary psychology would work that quickly at the whims of devious social engineers who want people to believe morbid obesity is not a disgusting turn-off.

They still want us to believe that beauty is also relative. It’s like that famous quote about beauty.

In America, beauty is in the eye of the drive-thru worker at the second window.

– T. Goode Charley

A very sick and short one Mrs. Draper.

Denial of Reality
They call them plus-sized models because we shouldn’t dare call them fat models. The goal of fat models is to make sure their bread stays buttered and they do this by eating. Fat models don’t need to go to the gym unless it’s to pretend to work out while giving 20% effort and taking selfies. They must stay as fat as possible while playing along with all the mentally ill people around them who constantly tell them how beautiful they are and feed their unhealthy pretenses.

This is all just another spoke in the wheel of reality denialism that allows new “constructs” to be built from the ashes of reality’s burnt corpse. The cultural soviets are everywhere meddling with “social constructs” that “propagate (insert something harmful but completely fabricated for their ideological agenda here).” If they’re not grooming and confusing children with gender pronouns and biological denialism, they’re telling them it’s okay to be fat or even obese. All science is subverted for tolerance of everything in service to ideological indoctrination.

Bloated gassy cows in bikinis example: Traditional beauty standards propagate cis heteronormative toxic masculine standards of patriarchal culture and subjugate women by denying them full autonomy over their bodies.

Common sense psycho-ideological translation: It’s okay to be a fat cow ladies. You’re still beautiful because beauty comes in all sizes, even size Type 2. In fact, the uglier you make yourself, the harder you stick it to the toxic masculine patriarchy, and the more liberated you will be.

The results? Piercings, tattoos, dedicated ugliness, gender-bending, sexual confusion, and obesity as accepted beauty.

Sticking it to the patriarchy.

If I were a conspiracy-minded fella I might say the population controllers love this because it means less attractive females for the few males remaining who have sufficient testosterone levels to even want to procreate. And so movements like MGTOW are born and the reproduction rates fall below replacement levels for two generations.

And don’t think I’m giving a pass to the fat men out there ladies. I see them too, but the mentally ill culture movers aren’t glorifying their obesity at the behest of global management, only their pregnancies.

Calvin Klein 2022 pregnant “man”

Calvin Klein 1992

Tolerance of the intolerable is the suicide of civilizations.

– T. Goode Charley

Making both sexes fat, lazy, drugged up, passive, and always sick is a great way to control the population. Mess with the food supplies, crops, water, the air, and blast everyone with Electromagnetic Frequencies like 5G that slowly damage their biological cellular function and it’s a cocktail recipe made in the Club of Rome kitchen.

Denial of Agency
To the mentally ill borg, denying an individual agency allows that individual to be subsumed by group identity. Group identity labels become key signifiers for ideological conformity. Each group is a victim of traditional western culture. Women are victims of the dominant male patriarchy. Blacks and Latinos are poor victims of white racist culture. Everything that needs to be destroyed can be through creating group identities and blaming their oppression on other groups.

This is merely power shifting disguised as altruism and tolerance. Each group is used by those who want more power. For neoliberals and progressives, the groups are tools that are easy to manipulate, control, subjugate and exploit by denying each individual’s agency within the group. They then vote for their slave masters every chance they get, while celebrating their chains (victimhood), and becoming missionaries who spread their gospel propaganda to transform others into slaves by getting them to deny their agency too.

By denying agency, obesity is not the fault of the individual. It’s the culture of cheap fast food, it’s just a part of modern life, it’s the fault of the advertising industry which creates unrealistic beauty standards, and it’s a lack of education about healthy eating. This last one is a favorite of diet gurus who for forty years have made billions “educating” the masses with special diets and plans. Very few offer tough honest love by telling people the truth. The first step in transforming oneself toward a solution is accepting full responsibility for the problem. Nobody has the guts for honesty and tough love and so it’s never the fault of the individual who consumes more calories than they exert through movement and exercise.

“Those supreme nacho platters and double stuffed pizzas just magically went down my gullet!"

“I just don’t know how those three bear claws ended up in my stomach!”

Denial of responsibility means we all have to pretend the morbidly obese are victims of everything else except their own poor choices. By calling the morbidly obese “beautiful” we are socially assisting their slow suicide while culturally assisting ours as well.

Global management loves it when people help them by simultaneously denying reality and agency, and dying faster.

Before processed foods and mass mental illness.

A few weeks ago while going for drinks with a Polish friend, she needed to stop by her Babcia’s (Grandmother) place to check on her. We had taken a river walk and it was on the way toward the center of town. Babcia is 85 and lives alone in a one-bedroom apartment that hasn’t seen renovations since Kruschev ruled the region via whatever Polish communist leader was in power at the time.

While she checked on her grandmother I politely asked to use the restroom. As I’m washing up I notice the medicine cabinet has no mirror or door and the shelves are pretty empty. In the states, you usually see about 20 orange bottles in an octagenarian’s medicine cabinet. I got curious and checked the drawers and under the sink. Nothing. I went snooping around and checked the bedroom nightstands and drawers. Nothing. When I got back to the kitchen I did some more light snooping where I could. Nothing.

While sipping vodka and chatting with Babcia via my friend translating I asked about Covid and if she feared getting ill and told her she seemed pretty healthy before eventually asking if she took any medications.

Eighty-five years old, still strong as an Ox, and not on any prescription medications. In fact, the last prescription she filled was for a toe fungus years ago.

None of those bloated gassy models in bikinis will live to see 55, let alone 85. Most of them probably take more prescription medications at 25 than my friend’s Babcia.

But hey, let’s all pretend Type 2 diabetes is fierce and beautiful.

This endless merry-go-round pushing maximum density through thickness and THICKNESS is sure to benefit someone.

Who it could be?

A bunch of BIG dicks laughing at all of us in cigar smokey rooms.

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If you enjoyed this essay, you might like this very first Good Citizen essay on tattoos.

The Banality of Tattoos

All is a distraction by design
A trick of smoke and mirrors to steal your mind
All is an illusion, mired in confusion

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