https://youtu.be/YbMTKaZKNZI

video: Seattle Mayor’s “Hug the Stabber” Insanity: Felons Free to Kill!

Oh, here we go, folks—strap in, because we’re diving headfirst into the steaming pile of progressive paradise that is Seattle, where the mayor, Bruce Harrell, this walking TED Talk on empathy gone feral, drops a gem like, “Oh, you know, whether this guy’s committing seven or eight crimes? Eh, not the issue to me. Let’s find his life story, maybe he was hungry, maybe Mommy didn’t hug him enough—pass the kale smoothie while we hug it out!” We have to find the equilibrium between protecting the public, and understanding and protecting the perp.

Equilibrium? Bitch, please! That’s not equilibrium; that’s a goddamn teeter-totter where the criminal’s on one end, fat and happy, and the public’s dangling off the other like a Trump piñata at a BLM block party, just waiting to get whacked!

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Remember Iryana Zaruska’s murderer, DeCarlos Brown Jr., this walking felony factory, released 14 times on serious charges because the system’s too busy finger-painting rainbows on his rap sheet to actually, you know, lock his ass up.

“Caring system,” they call it. Caring? It’s like if PETA ran the jails and decided rabies was just a cry for help. That dog foaming at the mouth, he’s misunderstood, let him run.

This guy’s out there, fresh off his umpteenth “get out of jail free” card, hops on a train in Charlotte—wait, Seattle’s cousin in chaos—and stabs a sweet Ukrainian girl, Iryna, repeatedly in the neck.
Dead. Gone. And what’s his victory lap? “I got that white girl!” he brags like he’s the MVP of some twisted episode of Survivor: BLM Edition.

Fourteen releases! That’s not a revolving door; that’s a goddamn lazy Susan spinning criminals back onto the street. And the victims? Oh, they’re just collateral damage in the grand opera of “suicidal empathy,” as Gad Saad so perfectly describes it.
Yeah, thanks, Dr. Freud—while you’re therapizing the stabber about his inner child, the rest of us are dodging the outer knife!

This shit’s happening ad nauseam across America, from the shoplifting safaris of San Fran to the carjacking carnivals of Chicago—it’s like the whole country’s auditioning for a reboot of The Purge, but with more pronouns and fewer consequences.

And why?
Because you’ve gotta flash those progressive bonafides, right? Virtue-signal against so much real world friction your Birkenstocks catch fire.
But still, even when you see the flame, you scream, ”It’s nuanced! We’re protecting the public and the perp—see, we multitask!”

Bullshit.

The number of times a felon’s broken the law is the issue, you sanctimonious twats, because at some point, you can bet the house in Vegas, the rabid dog is going to bite again.

Even when they carve up an innocent life like it’s mince meat pie night, nah, let’s circle back to the felon’s feelings. “Was he triggered by capitalism? Did the patriarchy make him stabby?”

Meanwhile, Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is flipping you the bird from the top—security, motherfuckers! Physiological needs first: food, shelter, not getting shanked on the light rail. But no, these social justice sorority girls are all, “Equity! Equity!” while your family’s Maslow pyramid turns into a Jenga tower of terror.

It’s a psyop so massive, it’s got the well-to-do lefties drooling like they’ve been roofied by their own NPR podcasts. “Oh, honey, the criminals are just misunderstood entrepreneurs of the underclass!”

Yeah, if by “entrepreneur” you mean boosting your iPhone from the mall. They’ve convinced these laptop liberals—safe behind their moated McMansions, programming their next TEDx flop—that this is peak compassion.

Meanwhile, the real world? It’s the shopkeepers, the strivers, the schmucks pouring their life savings into a little bodega dream, watching it evaporate because some blue-haired councilmember decided theft under $950 is “not a crime, it’s redistribution!”

Legalized looting! Stores are boarding up faster than a vampire at a garlic festival—eggs under lock and key, deodorant in plexiglass coffins.
“But it’s for the marginalized!” Yeah, marginalized your ass—it’s marginalizing the mom-and-pop who can’t afford the “shrinkage” anymore. Go eke out a living? More like eke out a prayer that the smash-and-grab crew doesn’t turn your store into a TikTok challenge.

Nothing these revolutionaries peddle works—zero! They juke the crime stats like a bad Vegas act: “Look, Ma, no hands!”

People stop reporting because why bother? It’s like calling the Ghostbusters for a shoplifter—they show up, ectoplasm the paperwork, and poof, gone. Or they downgrade felonies to misdemeanors faster than a Kardashian downgrades a marriage.

“Crime’s down 15%!” they crow, while the streets are a Mad Max wet dream.

Juked stats, baby—pure Wire bullshit. And Bruce Harrell? This guy’s presiding over Seattle’s slow-motion dumpster fire like it’s intentional urban acupuncture: “Just a few more needles of nonsense, and poof—nirvana!” At this point, you gotta wonder: Is he on China’s payroll? Lao Tzu’s Art of War whispering in his ear, “Win without firing a shot—promote the idiots, psyop the sheep!” Flood the elite with status points for stupidity: “Ooh, support the stabber’s therapy fund, get 10,000 likes from your TED cohort!” They don’t ride public transit; they’re Uber Black to their echo chambers. So yeah, let DeCarlos loose—it’s not their daughter bleeding out on the 7 train.

Wake up, you virtue-vampires! Your “caring” is killing us, one empathetic excuse at a time. Security first, or we’ll all be rabid dogs in the end—snarling at each other while the real wolves laugh from the penthouse, from the great country they’ve destroyed, without firing a shot.