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Amphetamine-fueled NazBol sleeper agent, exiled into the land of eagles and insulin. Once a northern outcast, now a mountain-dwelling hermit—watching the world burn while perfecting the art of shitposting. A hobbit lost in the empire, a cog with a black belt, and an attention span of a feral cat. Not lost—self-banished with purpose. Not broken—just recalibrated.

Neuroscience PhD dropout—because the ivory tower had too many Jews and not enough answers. If it can be optimized, automated, or conquered in a strategy game, I’m there. Socially right, economically left—banned in at least three Commonwealth nations. Explaining nationalism to the confused masses and side-eyeing Canadian federalism like it stole a homeland, silenced a nation, and expects me to wave its flag. NATO bootlickers fear me; the multipolar world is inevitable. AI art, AI music, and enough discourse to crash a lesser man’s dopamine receptors.

Martial artist, AI wrangler, armchair warlord, and professional shitposter. ADHD brain running on overclocked genius or complete system crash—no middle ground. Research chemical retiree—my serotonin receptors have seen some things, but we’re on good terms now.

"Un Québécois en exil, mais c’est pas moi qui devrais sacrer mon camp."

"J’checke le monde virer en scrap pis j’me demande encore pourquoi on niaise avec le fédéralisme."

"A high-powered anomaly never meant for mass adoption. Too ironic to be taken seriously, too serious to be ignored."

Views are my own. Repeats ≠ endorsements. Assume at your own risk.
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