Editorial: Five ways to use your huge bazongas as literal weapons in the Woke War, by the National Post
by The National Post
You heard it here first, Canadians: the death of wokeness lies in a gorgeous set of organic, locally-sourced bazongas. We at The National Post have compiled a full list of military-grade tactics to make sure that the big naturals, cha-chas, and knockers you know and love can be used as weapons in the Woke War. After all, you might not be Sydney Sweeney, but you can still serve.
1) Smothering: Take it from us, a group of mostly middle-aged white males: there’s nothing that smothers our faces AND enemies more effectively than a good ol’ pair of ladyhonkers. If Ben Shapiro had giant mommy milkers, America would have elected him President already. And if he had used those milkers to brutally smother the woke antifa plaguing our schools, churches, and sewers (see our previous Post article for context), we would have won the goddamn Woke War already.
2) Striking: The Left may have guns, fists, and mean science words, but you know what they won’t see coming? Your glorious shoulder boulders appearing out of just fuckin’ nowhere to slap the woke right out of them. A hit from even one of your tig ol’ bitties is bad enough, but two??! Those woke actors of SNL are as good as fired.
3) Distraction: It’s a known fact that in anti-woke circles there’s nothing that makes a lefty’s head turn faster than a sweet, sweet duet of milk monsters. Why? Because they yearn for what their flat, woke chests will never have. Get a line of (biological! This is so important for reasons we can’t actually justify!) ladies with melons the size of Jupiter’s moons to swing ‘em around every which way and those pinkos won’t see our forces coming.
4) Crushing: All we need to say about this one is that absolutely nothing can survive being absolutely shattered under the weight of two fabulous funbags. Pete from Accounting told us he didn’t like Chappelle’s last special and two minutes later? Boom: he was in pieces after a fuckin’ beautiful mammary-slam from Janet, our 62-year-old secretary.
5) Bombs: Ladies, if you love Pierre Poilievre as much as we here at the National Post do (impossible), you’ll make the ultimate sacrifice: swap those implants for literal grenades, lure one of the liberal elite into your lair, pull the pins, and watch those socialism-worshipping scumbags explode. We thank you for your service.
So, in the words of our Lord and Saviour Jordan Peterson, “If you’ve got ‘em, flaunt ‘em, or else the authoritarian tyrants who dictate who and what we are legally allowed to find personally attractive will break down your email in the middle of the night and make you take mandatory social media classes.”
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