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her face when you find a dish she supposedly cleaned but there is still dried food caked on it, then you imagine brutally beating her as punishment in an elaborate fantasy where you are a bronze age warlord and she is your concubine and there is no cringe state or cringe police to stop you from direct and perfect rulership of your personal demesne—the family, the clan. In your clan all of the pottery is truly clean after its use is completed.
