As a freedom-loving American citizen, I enjoy certain rights that are protected under the U.S. Constitution. The right to free speech. The right to own a military-grade assault weapon. The right to celebrate the finalization of my second divorce at my local Macaroni Grill, indoors, with my assault weapon seated across from me. These rights were handed down to me by the Founding Fathers, and no radical politician or business owner can take them away merely because I happen to be engulfed in flames.
For most of human history, catching fire now and then has been no big deal. The Neanderthals didn’t have fire extinguishers, but do you think they just locked themselves in their cave when a stray spark happened to land on one of their loincloths, setting it instantly ablaze? Did they say to their hungry families, “Sorry there’s no woolly mammoth to eat today, Daddy had to stop, drop, and roll like a freaking cuck”? No. They trusted their natural flame-retardant properties, and they thrived.
Banning people who are on fire from public life isn’t about protecting the vulnerable or preventing a conflagration that makes our city look like the very bowels of hell; it’s about control.
Public-health “experts” will tell you that it’s “irresponsible” to attend a wedding or walk around a gas station when you’re the human core of a raging inferno, and that you must first “put it out” with “water.” But riddle me this: If my flammable human body is 60 percent water, as biologists claim, what good would an extra splash supposedly do? If God thought his children should be wetter, would He not soak us from above with His heavenly Hose? I have posed these questions to respected scientists, and each time they have run away from me in shame, screaming “fire” as a distraction.
The dishonest liberal media would have you believe that burning alive is the worst thing that can happen to a person. But I’ve done my own extensive research on the relative risks of being on fire versus experimenting with unproven fire management techniques, and the story’s not quite so simple. More Americans die from slipping on fire extinguisher foam every year than from burns or smoke inhalation, according to Twitter user DogPiss09482725, who notes in his bio that he is president and CEO of the Mayo Clinic. I may be in considerable pain, but I will not expose myself to an artificial threat just to appease some panicked Costco employees, thank you very much.
I have nothing against the brainwashed cowards who feel the need to avoid catching on fire at all costs, I just insist that it be an individual choice. Let the weak stay home with their smoke alarms and damp towels, while the strong go about our lives! If you’re that scared of a few flames—the same trusted flames that real Americans use to cook our meat, and burn our Hillary Clinton effigies—you have no business being in a public elementary school.
The harder the government tries to force me to extinguish myself, the brighter I will burn, a beacon of critical thinking and personal freedom. If that offends anyone, you’re welcome to consult my copy of the Constitution. I believe you will find that it has been incinerated.
