It starts the same way every time. The banners go up, the slogans go out, and the march begins. The troops assemble, draped in their sacred colors, chanting the inviolable doctrines of their cause.
There is no room for dissent, no tolerance for neutrality. You are either with them or against them, and if you are against them, well—you’d better be ready for the full force of their wrath. This is the Pride Movement, the militant zealotry that swept through the Western world like a biblical plague, demanding not just tolerance, not just acceptance, but worship.
It wasn’t enough to leave people alone. They had to be converted. They had to fly the flag, change the profile picture, make the right noises, and clap with enough enthusiasm to avoid suspicion.
The enforcers stood ready, ever-watchful, like the secret police of some Orwellian nightmare. The moment someone hesitated—hesitated!—the signal went out. The mob descended. Careers are destroyed, businesses are boycotted, lives are shattered.
Dissent was not just frowned upon, it was eradicated. And when mere words were not enough, when outrage reached its boiling point, the foot soldiers activated. Whether it be the trans-mafia, Black Lives Matter, or Antifa, the unhinged, black-clad brigades of chaos, the willing martyrs of the cause, they torched buildings, they smashed windows, they beat innocent bystanders senseless—all in the name of tolerance, of course.
The terror of the rainbow jihad was not just in its destruction, but in its mindless devotion. These people would almost be willing to die for their movement. Well, some of them would. Most of them, the ones orchestrating from their air-conditioned conference rooms, were more than happy to let someone else do the bleeding.
And now, the banners have changed. The colors are different, the slogans are new, but the zealotry? Identical. The forced conformity? The exact same.
Enter the Ukraine Pride movement.