The 2015 Punchable Shitlib Face Tournament semifinals are over, and Dylan Matthews soundly defeated Matty Yglesias in Bout 1, while Pajamaboy BARELY eked out a win over Lindsey “GayPedoFace” Graham.
McKay Coppins waits in the wings for his chance at taking more punches to the face than Dylan Gaytthews.
Finals, Preliminary Bout: Dylan Matthews vs McKay Coppins
What’s he looking at so suspiciously? Ah yes, the black man approaching him from a quarter mile away.
Fivehead, four eyes, three chins, two T cells, one punchable shitlib.
The winner of this preliminary finals bout will advance to the championship slumber party pillow fight with none other than Pajamaboy! I can’t wait, how about you?
We’re back for the 2015 punchable shitlib face semifinals!
Bout 1: Matty “Yce Yce Baby” Yglesias vs Dylan “I’m hiding a buttplug” Matthews
Don’t be surprised if your hand reflexively curls into a fist looking at Yglesias. And multiple viewings which could conceivably inure you to his smug doughboy plushness don’t seem to lessen the urge (more like amplifies it).
Keep in mind, president buttsecks and his staff thought this milquetoast clad in jammies sipping from a hot mug of cocoa was a good representative to sell their healthcare boondoggle.
“Phew, do you smell that?! Oh, teehee, it was me!” Peter Pan, meet yourself in fifty years.
******
Stop the lugenpresses! We have a last-minute punchable shitlib face addition to the cards! He’s a former heavyweight champion of punchability, and a million Buzzfeed fans demanded his inclusion, so the winner of the Yglesias vs Matthews match will advance to a bonus bout against
McKay Coppins.
my hand… curling into a fist……. cannot stop it…….. cannot……. *SWING*……. *CRACK*……….ahhhhhhhhhh
McKay Coppins, for those who really must know the bios of our nation’s listicle artisans, is an ur-shitlib who lies for Buzzfeed. His mug is making the rounds because he was at a recent Trump rally and claimed to have overheard someone yell “Light the motherfucker on fire!” to a protestor; “someone” likely meaning him, a left wing plant. Look at that doughy concave croissant Coppins sports for a face. It’s easy to picture him screeching “light the motherfucker on fire” in a faggy tone with a barely-concealed smirk as he thinks of all the good copy this will generate for his online bathhouse.
The streams of leftoid memes are beginning to cross. One minute, shitlibs are crowing about normal people “fearing Syrian refugees who are widows and orphans”, the next they’re calling Trump a fascist and letting the world know how scared they are of the Rise of His Excellency.
Now that Trump has opened the Overton Window wider than a cuckservative’s anus by promising to close the borders to Muslim immigration until further notice (never), the shitlib circus has rolled into town and pulled out the stops. For instance, here’s The Economist’s latest cover:
Call me crazy, but shooting innocent people in learning disability centers and concert halls falls more squarely in the realm of “playing with fear”. And what Trump proposes – keeping out the sort of people prone to playing with fear – is the exact opposite: a practical solution to reduce fearfulness.
But that’s the thing with suicidally stupid shitlibs claiming with their last breaths to love the idea of importing the third world while paying top dollar to live in gentrified neighborhoods bereft of all their totemic muddy imports: they have to abuse language and deny the meaning of words to get any moral traction with their fellow self-righteousness whores. If they spoke plainly, they wouldn’t be able to hold the positions they do without appearing utterly insane. (they are, regardless)
The shitlib insists closing the borders to groups of people whose culture and race are alien to Western Civ is a sign of fear, when the non-shitlib knows in his gut it’s common sense. It isn’t brave to stand in the path of a speeding train; it’s suicidally stupid. And it isn’t fearful to avoid unnecessary entanglements with hot-headed, ingrate foreigners; it’s prudent.
So for the typical language-mangling shitlib, “prudence” becomes “fear”, and “suicidal stupidity” becomes “nuance”, “tolerance”, or “love“.
In what some are calling an upset akin to Buster Douglas-Mike Tyson, Matty “Polar Bear” Yglesias edged out [insert double entendre here] Ezra “Null Entity of Nepotism” Klein in Bout 1.
Bout 2: Dylan Matthews doubled Alex Pareene’s vote total. Matthews’ mug inspires twice as many knuckle sandwiches as Pareene’s.
Bout 3: John Scalzied will be overjoyed that Pajamaboy routed him for backpfeifengesicht honors. No doubt Scalzied was dreading his preteen daughter, who can bench press more than him, impulsively clocking him right in the kisser if he had won.
Bout 4: Lindsey Graham didn’t need BACKROOM shenanigans to easily defeat Devin Faraci. (Though it looks like the two of them would’ve loved backroom play together.)
Shitlibs are renowned for their watery-eyed, chipmunk-cheeked, effeminate, punchable faces. Why not set up a tournament-style bracket to find the most punchable, shitlib-iest face ever, as determined by reader vote? Why ask why?
(Actual shitlibs will not be duking it out ringside for advancement to the March Manlets Final Four, as much as we would all like to watch Ezra Klein take an uppercut to his dainty jawline, because actual shitlibs don’t know how to use their fists for anything besides fitting them up rectums.)
First, what crucially defines the archetypical shitlib face? It’s like obscenity; you know it when you see it. If you want a more specific accounting, I’d say it’s a combination of general effeminacy, neotenous underdevelopment, softness of mien, suppleness of cheeks and facial extremities, and all of it inflated with an expression of undeserved self-worth and haughty self-regard informed not by evident accomplishment but by bitter clinging to an ego-assuaging belief in intellectual superiority.
Plus, of course, there’s the self-serving hypocrisy, the phony sanctimony, and the insufferable proclivity to snark, which shitlib faces radiantly project like a bioluminescent mating signal to bluehair feminist fatties.
We begin.
Welcome, one and all, to the 2015 Punchable Shitlib Face Tournament to crown the winner of Most Punchable Shitlib Face in the bathhouse! The tournament is organized into four bouts, and winners will advance to the semi-finals.
First Match: Ezra Klein vs Matty Yglesias
Don’t let his moisturized skin and plush bee-stung lips fool you; Ezra’s got the heart of a slithery lizard, and he jives with the disingenuousness of an Inuit sophist. You want to knock those glasses right off him, and maybe relocate his horse choppers to the back of his throat. Backpfeifengesicht to the max!
Ah, Matty Yce. The “juveniles” who polar bear’ed him didn’t hit hard enough to remove the antiWhite smugness perched on his porcine mug. And there are those yenta glasses again, begging to fly off his nose in a slo-mo shattered glass arc to the ground, trailed by a few of his molars. Don’t worry, if you’re a black guy taking a potshot at him, he’ll never mention your race and write about you only once, in passing. If you’re White, he’ll spend years milking his victimization and pursuing a crusade against White male patriarchal privilege.
These two may be work butt buddies, and they may look equally punchable (give or take ten cheek-stuffed pounds), but only one can emerge victorious as the face that launched a thousand fists.
******
Second Match: Alex Pareene vs Dylan Matthews
You may wonder if all these shitlibs are brothers from the same mother. The morphology similarities are eerie, right down to the weak vision requiring old lady eyeglasses and the mischievous “I’m sitting on a buttplug” grin.
Dylan Matthews, another juicevoxer with plump BJ lips, zero muscle tone, the jawline of a lamprey, and those shitlib-defining glasses. Gaydar is pinging loudly, this guy is definitely a power bottom and keeps a diary of all the anal ailments he collects from Grindr hookups. He spends his free time building his collection of animal penises in jars.
******
Third Match: John Scalzi vs Pajamaboy
You know him as that guy who wears a dress, signals his antiWhite bona fides hard to echo chamber shitlibs, and thinks the term “dudebros” is clever. Now you can know him as the guy with a face made for absorbing blows.
Pajamaboy is an icon of the Butt Naked presidency. It’s hard to beat that low T combo of pajama, cocoa, hipster glasses, and oddly prepubertal face for sheer punchability. It’s such the complete package, he inspires you to want to punch more than just his face, and maybe bring your buddies in for a round of walloping.
Would a punchable shitlib face list be complete without a gay cuckservative representative? (Practically, there is no difference between a shitlib and a cuckservative.) How the fuck Lindsey has managed to hold onto power for so long in South Carolina, one of the Shitlordiest states in the Union, is a mystery. No matter how much this Open Borders/Open Anus closet case lisps angrily about Donald “I. Don’t. Care.” Trump, his face will forever remain the visage of a man begging for a five-fingered sandwich… and prostate massage.
After this post, if your knuckles aren’t bleeding, you aren’t trying.
Ouch. But there is a ray of hope. This beta appears to have swallowed a crimson pill or two, as he has had the good sense to delete this pic from his Cuckbook profile, and all “you-go-eunuch!” comments attached to it. Are betas starting to feel the hot shame of their pussy-pedestalizing ways? Is the all-fronts Heartistian Realtalk assault on the swaddled ids of sackless orbiters finally breaching their blueball bunkers? It’s fappening!
As the Circlejerk of the Offended widens, there remain fewer and fewer Offenders in the Oortlands of the Damned from whom to extract satisfyingly humiliating apologies. Take, for example, this latest Bowels Love Movement temper tantrum.
An organized protest at Cornell University supporting racial equality has been canceled after a black student group complained about the “lack of people of color in the planning and attendance” of the event, which appears to have been organized by a white student.
Not sure if troll or genuine “white” beta manboob fatso bowing down before his cuckmasters for the crime of insufficiently licking their boots.
This line:
“Thank you for calling me out on my ignorance.”
You may as well append that to America’s other two epitaphs ready to be etched on her gravestone.
The group also stated that “although” the members appreciate “the solidarity and interest of our allies,” the organization would like to address prejudice “in [their] own way.”
I’m curious where all this is heading. When any silly “offense” can be summoned from the ether, and everyone has a trigger point and a safe space blueprint, who will be left to obsequiously assuage the egos of all these thin-skinned, feminized, emotional toddlers? I suppose John Scalzi will try to take up the slack. He wears a dress.
I’ll tell ya something else. This is what happens when you overstuff a bunch of underqualified blacks onto college campuses where they can feel in their bones they don’t measure up. The spite, resentment, and bile bubble over, and with the help of status whoring manlet leftoids and Hivemind Narrative police, explodes in some of the most childish, nonsensical tantrums you’ll ever see putative adults indulge.
No doubt it’s fun for the wholesome White family to watch shitlib grotesqueries cannibalize each other, but if you think this in-fighting will reduce their choke-hold on the culture, don’t bet on it.
