Yowch, that smarts! Sound the alarm bells, true patriots! Following an incident no less than three seconds ago, I’m sorry to inform you all that my coffee table has gone fully woke. I was just bringing a tall glass of raw unpasteurized milk to the living room so that I could play some Helldivers 2 without really thinking about the game’s overall themes. That’s when it happened: my toe was suddenly stubbed by my antifa DEI coffee table, a devastating blow that left me wracked with pain. That’s right: you’re not even safe from liberal attacks in your own home. Is nothing sacred to the left? Jesus, I hope I didn’t break something. Is that broken? Hm, no, I think we’re good. Still though, ouch.
This is no joke—I could’ve been killed. Forty-six seconds ago, my sock-clad big toe collided with the southeast leg of my coffee table at approximately 2.7 miles per hour. Following the stubbing, I was quoted as saying, “Gaaaaah, fuck! Son of a fucking bitch! Oh God, that’s a mother! Oh geez, ohohoho, ohhhhh boy, oh, that did one hell of a number on me.” My wife reports that I was loud enough to wake the kids, though this has been contested.
I ordered this TONSTAD oak veneer coffee table from IKEA as a housewarming gift for my wife on April 4th of last year. Little did I know that when I gave them my shipping address, I was actually doxxing myself. The attack on my family wouldn’t launch until well after the 180-day return period, however. After I retaliated by leaving a one-star review for the item, IKEA had this to say: “We apologize for any inconvenience. We’ll be sure to share your feedback with our sales leaders for internal review and future design improvements.” Can you believe it? Not one single mention of the woke mind virus that’s clearly infected the company! I’ll be buying from Bob’s from now on, thank you very much!
I urge you all, my brothers in arms against the woke terrorists, to join me in a boycott against IKEA. I’ve already posted a video of myself using the Satanic coffee table as firewood in my backyard. However, when I showed the woke mob that I’m not afraid of them, they only tried to silence me harder than ever. Due to an unrelated and entirely coincidental wildfire that burned down half my neighborhood, a woke state prosecutor is now attempting to press charges against me, using my awesome table-burning TikTok as evidence. According to her, “You can literally see the defendant flinging chunks of flaming wood behind the treeline.” Luckily, the Lord Almighty already sent President Trump to pardon me for my participation in the January 6th fight for freedom, so I’m confident that He will protect me a second time (God or Trump, whoever comes first).
Next week, I’ll be back with another column on the dangers of my wife’s woke divorce papers.
