You're the kind of spineless, oxygen-wasting maggot who thinks regurgitating conspiracy theories counts as a personality? Let me guess, your family tree is a fucking wreath, your IQ couldn't fill a thimble, and the only thing you've ever supported is your own sagging gut while you sob into your keyboard. You're not just wrong, you're a walking miscarriage of critical thought, the human equivalent of a participation trophy rusting in a landfill. The president wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, and neither would anyone else, because even flames have standards. Die mad about it, you lobotomized cum stain.