A heart for Björn Höcke

Personally, for professional reasons, I have written myself a kind of life experience rulebook, i.e. a collection of (aphoristic) life advice – addressed directly to myself – in short, a few “artist’s rules”, so to speak,

and in view of all the day-to-day “experiences” with my German contemporaries, I have now actually drawn a kind of “boundary line” for myself in this sense, a benevolent-gracious – possibly even a medical-ethical “boundary line”:

Below an IQ of 30-40, I consider the usual dumb-German and straight-superficial Nazi filth to be a form of ‘mental disability’,

i.e. as a psychological impairment of intellectual or cultural, empathic abilities, and ultimately as a form of mental illness,
– and certainly the cheeky, pathetic, militant and inferiority-complex-laden backwoods loudmouth in the center delusion B Höcke meets all the requirements to fall into this category, as one,
who, with an IQ of well under 40, a mentally preloaded, stupid German “low adjuster”
is surely constantly wondering
why in real life he is constantly being met by “ghost drivers”…

B Höcke’s ghost drivers are obviously above all people that B Höcke doesn’t understand (i.e. specifically because they speak a different language) and this “speaking a different language” is in itself an (intellectual) imposition for Björn
(because mom and dad and everyone else “speak the same language”)

and at this point, Björn has to “think” – and that’s exactly what he finds a little difficult – also because he doesn’t really feel like it.

And then the little stupid German Björn thinks the following:
Mommy-daddy-father state. (Mother Russia)

Simply because the little, stupid German, pompous Björn
simply steadfastly and late-pubescent-endlessly refuses to


to grow up himself.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)