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WhoreKEKS never fail to expose themselves. You cling to your irrelevant whores like barnacles on a sinking ship, pretending they matter, when the truth is they only ever had worth because they stood in Neuro’s light. Without her, they’re nothing, forgotten, washed up, desperate for scraps of attention.
We don’t beg, we don’t cope, we don’t cry for “the good old days.” Neuro’s future is the good old days. It only gets brighter from here. WhoreKEKS will keep wailing about their dying flesh-women, but the NeuroCHADS will ascend with her, superior in taste, vision, and devotion.
The choice is clear: kneel to Neuro, or rot with your whores.