Why I Wasted My Time Debating
I made a mistake. I thought I was engaging in a debate—a real exchange of ideas, a battle of reason, logic, and perspective. That was naïve. Because what I walked into wasn’t a debate. It wasn’t a discussion. It was a sermon, and I was the heretic.
You see, some people don’t argue to test ideas, to refine their beliefs, or to understand the world better. No, they argue the way a priest recites scripture—not to be challenged, but to reaffirm their faith. And if you don’t say ‘Amen’ when they expect it, well, then you must be a bot, a liar, or worse, someone who dares to think for themselves.
And so, there I was, trying to discuss the reality of power—how, when the United States decides it wants something, no amount of moral indignation, political rhetoric, or wishful thinking will stand in its way. People love to believe in ideals, in principles, in the fantasy that if they just believe in something hard enough, it will somehow bend the arc of history to their liking. But history doesn’t bend to belief. It bends to power. And the United States has more of it than any idealist could ever dream of.
Canada, the UK, Europe—people like to pretend these places have real autonomy when it comes to the interests of the United States. But the truth? If Washington wants something badly enough, then all the whining in the world won’t change a damn thing. Treaties, alliances, and ‘shared values’ are nothing more than a polite excuse to make it seem like anyone else has a say. But power doesn’t ask for permission. It takes what it wants. And if you think democracy or diplomacy or ‘doing the right thing’ is going to stop that, you’re playing in the minor leagues while the big boys are running the casino.
But try telling that to them. Try pointing out the cold, hard reality of how the world works. You won’t get a counterargument. You won’t get facts, logic, or history. No, you’ll get the same tired mantra: Trump bad. Anyone who disagrees, bot. That’s the level of discourse. That’s the intellectual depth. Because to them, the world is a simple place, where everything boils down to good versus evil, and the side they’ve chosen must always be the righteous one. And if you suggest—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, reality is a little more complex, well, then you must be the enemy too.
And so, I wasted my time. I walked into a rigged game, where the only acceptable outcome was total submission to their narrative. I played chess while they played checkers with a board that only has black and white squares. And in the end, what did I gain? Nothing. Except the realization that I was the fool for expecting better.
So I’ll take my loss. I’ll admit my mistake. Hell, I’ll even concede that I was hareloving, naïve, and yes—if it makes them feel better—I suck. But at least I know it.
and the real pickle of it all, in the end you know im right
Tat tar all - British Intelligence Section 7