“The air was thick with the whirling of machinery and men, soot and sweat, but above the ancient grinding and grunts, a timeless shrill tone bore purchase upon a particular pair’s ears. In a humble Austrian village where murder was bad, and where killing, maiming, and otherwise inconveniencing others by accident was also bad, a glorious youth of immaculate destiny was released from the first prison he would face to find the air of his chosen people- those for whom he would dedicate his life. Those he would ceaselessly elevate to their rightful position. This is the story of a man who rose above the lashings of sheep to offer the world its truest chance at purity. Killing is bad, especially genocide.“
Yeah, I dunno whether this criticism solves anything.
From ChatGPT:
Detective Reynolds surveyed the crime scene with a furrowed brow, his gaze lingering on the gruesome tableau before him. The victim, a middle-aged man with a kindly face, lay sprawled on the floor of his modest living room, a pool of crimson spreading beneath him.
As Reynolds crouched beside the body, a surge of indignation rose within him. Another senseless murder, another life snuffed out in the blink of an eye. It sickened him to his core to think that someone could harbor such disregard for human life.
“This,” he muttered, his voice thick with disdain, “this is the epitome of evil. A coward’s act, born of malice and contempt.”
He rose to his feet, casting a steely gaze around the room as if daring the perpetrator to reveal themselves. “Let there be no mistake,” he declared, his tone unwavering, “murder is a vile, despicable crime. It robs the world of its light, leaving only darkness and despair in its wake.”
With each word, Reynolds’s conviction grew stronger, his determination to bring the culprit to justice unwavering. For he knew that in the battle between good and evil, there could be no compromise, no quarter given to those who would prey upon the innocent.
As he stepped out into the night, the weight of his mission settled heavy upon his shoulders. But he would not falter, for he knew that in the pursuit of justice, there could be no greater cause. And though the road ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, one truth remained constant: murder was a blight upon society, a stain that must be cleansed at any cost.
That machine loves espousing its feelings on murder. Must be overcompensating. Investigate its server room, and quickly.
Stephen King: chuckles I’m in danger.
The same with video games.
Idiots: “You kill people?” Idiot politicians: “Killing people is allowed >18 years.”
Was it birb murber?
killing birbs
I understand him. He is dead. Probably was murbered.
The most BPD thing I’ve read today
