the cycle is complete, he cuts a pathetic enough figure that i can finally admit that i love and admire jordan peterson, this rambling shell of a madman, addled freak, still clinging to his pomposity even after his brain’s liquefied and drained out his spinal column, he is a figure of the age and everything he says is true, he grasps the necessity of things far more than anyone still burdened with thought. god is conscience. the little rubber ball bouncing around the inside of his skull, that’s god