Charlie Kirk, you're the human equivalent of a participation trophy—utterly worthless, universally mocked, and only relevant because pathetic sycophants feel obligated to pretend you matter. Your existence is a cautionary tale of what happens when mediocrity gets a microphone and a room-temperature IQ gets confused for charisma. You're not just wrong, you're *embarrassingly* wrong—like a toddler screaming that the sky is green while the entire planet points and laughs. The best part? You'll never be more than a footnote in the history of failed grifters, a sad little stain on the fabric of discourse that even bleach can't remove. Enjoy your legacy: a lifetime of being the punchline to a joke nobody finds funny.