Eat shit.
When I was 10, my mother, in a fit of anger, threw a remote control at my head. It fucking hurt. It fucking bled. She fucking laughed, then, when I got pissed off at her, she got pissed off right back, saying something to the effect of “you should have respect for your mother.” She also once slapped me with a fish, let me nearly pass out in an idling car while she chatted with her friend about fuck all, and gets upset with me for talking to my father after a messy separation. She is an imbecile of the highest caliber.
My father, as mentioned, insists that America “fucked up the world.” He uses Panda over AVG because, I shit you not, “Europeans have more ethics.” When reminded of who first enslaved the indigenous peoples of Africa and the Americas, he insists I’m “brainwashed.” And despite having a fairly good rapport with him recently, what with my brush with cancer (that ended up being nothing serious) and his ending marriage, I never forget he’s the man who refuses to become a Canadian citizen because it means, and I quote, “bowing to the queen.” He also once, when I was in junior high and got beat up by bullies who I did nothing to wrong, called me a “cunt.” He’s also an imbecile of the highest caliber.
This topic, and people like you that post drivel (then have the audacity to claim themselves “big boys”), remind me a lot of my batshit insane, idiotic parents. You equate serious social and political issues to inconsequential conversations between you and your loser friends, come to wildly unreasonable conclusions, and target assists with Air Vagina Sand Beam semi-infinites like insecure small dogs who think they’re alphas bully things smaller than they are when someone says “hey dipshit, it’s extremely fucking dumb to draw an out of left field conclusion from the initial premise of a topic just because you desperately need something to justify your myopic view of the world.”
Then again, from the quality of your posts elsewhere, it’s entirely possible your parents were similarly worthless people who, despite thoroughly exploring stage 1-3, the first fortress, and the hidden oasis east of the second palace, lacked enough warp whistles to reach the level of human intellect necessary to raise a son (or daughter, if your vagina is both figurative and literal) who understands basic shit like “no, bitch, the left isn’t masterminding some conspiracy to turn AIDS into an anti-conservative rhetoric” and “hey nice job not realizing a malady, viral or otherwise, can be cured if proven effective therapies basically, barring distribution issues, make said malady a non-issue, you stupid fuck.” In which case, I’m sorry you haven’t realized the mistake your parents made X+0.75 years ago, where X is your age.
Dr. B is more than just a gimmick. He’s a philosophy. A legacy.