Once upon a time there was an emperor, who ruled over an empire that encompassed the known world. To mark the 50th anniversary of his ascension to the throne he decided to throw himself a extravagant banquet, and for the occasion he commissioned a new set of robes from the best tailor in the land. The tailor, knowing how unreasonable the emperor was, fretted over the design, and stayed up every night for weeks trying to decide what material would be best. The tailor's indecision escalated into inaction, which is known in certain circles as "tailor's block". The day of the banquet arrived, and the tailor had nothing to show for his sleepless nights. But a strange thing happened that day. When the emperor and his entourage arrived at the tailor's shop, the tailor had a stroke of genius... The tailor welcomed the emperor and his party into his shop, and asked them to please be seated. Then he told the emperor that he had received a special fabric from somewhere beyond the boundary of the empire; a fabric that could only be seen by a person of good character. The tailor told the emperor that he knew that it was unbecoming to speak highly of one's own work, especially in the presence of someone so important as the emperor, but this had to be the most beautiful robe that he'd ever made. Then the tailor turned to a rack of robes, took out an empty hanger, and bowing before the emperor, extended his hands, and presented the hanger to the emperor. For a moment the emperor sat there, just staring at the empty hanger. Then he caught out of the corner of his eye, his closest advisor, also looking at the hanger; he had a smirk on his face, or maybe it was a look of wonder... The emperor reached out and accepted the hanger, and rising to his feet he exclaimed, "this is the most beautiful robe I've ever seen!" A moment later, one of the emperor's aides chimed in, saying "that's the most impressive cross stitching I've ever seen!" One after the other (and in some cases, at the same time) each member of the emperor's entourage praised the magnificent robes. Long story short, the emperor wore those robes (and nothing else) to the banquet that night. Depending on who's telling the story, either some young peasant boy blows the whole thing wide open, or the story ends with the robes getting lost at the dry cleaners. In either case, the moral of the story is that people who are woke won't be satisfied until we all agree with their bullshit.
When I watch a movie where a terrorist is portrayed as a hero, I can choose to cheer, or I can maintain my integrity.
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