Because I figure that those of us who don't want to pay him $8/mo and won't hype his "woke mind virus" nonsense will be algorithm-throttled into oblivion anyway. So might as well irritate him a bit in the meantime.
— Parker Molloy (@ParkerMolloy) December 16, 2022
It took less than a week for pathetic dykes (and stochastic terrorists) like Parker Molloy to break down after the mildest treatment of what they have cheered as conservatives on social media have endured since Trump came down the escalator. For those keeping score, even the pillow biters with modicums of integrity objected when Parker and her hateful ilk were conspiring to keep the creator of one of 21st century Britain's best comedies from media platforms since they "didn't like his opinions".
Which is funny, because their endless justification for not letting people on social media call Roderick Cox by his name are because its a risk of harm when he realizes he really has been a boy all this time and kills himself in shame for his evil lifestyle choices. Yet now when an alleged assault targeted Elon Musk's vehicle at a time when his child but not him was inside of it, Molloy is eager to make sure as many angry leftists as possible are exposed to Musk's personal location at all times.
(As a bonus, if Parker Molloy doesn't do as the post title suggests, if any readers knows her home address and ideally a rough description of which room if visible from the front happens to be her bedroom, please post it in the comments)
Meanwhile she's terrified that she might be "algorithm-throttled into oblivion". Yet (and you'll note she's taken great effort to hide this) when conservative accounts were being shadowbanned she took the "that's all just a conspiracy theory" approach (which has recently been revealed to be the truth).
That's the funny thing about the left: they always think that things go their way, and while they usually do they are so addicted to the 150-year-old belief that they are persecuted that when it briefly doesn't they think the sky is falling.
