tucker carlson larping as a flyover outdoorsy prole is so absurd
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Date: May 5th, 2025 7:10 PM Author: wild institution
i assumed it was shtick for a while but i now think that he really does see himself as some kind of genuine "real american" prole outdoorsman guy instead of the descendant of rich east coast WASPs
it's not an act he just desperately wants to believe it himself lmao
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5720835&forum_id=2#48906583) |
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Date: May 6th, 2025 9:27 PM Author: coiffed state nowag
The fire cracked low in the desert night, spitting embers into the black above. Three men hunched round it, shadows carved sharp against the sand. Tucker, lean and weathered, sat apart, his eyes like chipped flint. A tin of Zyn pouches rested in his palm, glinting faintly.
First Man (spitting into the dirt): "Ain't natural, Tucker. Chewin' them pouches like some dandy. Why not take a man's plug, or a smoke?"
Tucker (voice low, steady): "Plug's for fools who court death slow. Smoke's a beacon for them that hunt us. This—" (he tapped the tin, deliberate) "—this is clean. Sharp. Keeps the mind honed and the hand steady."
Second Man (grinning, teeth stained): "You reckon that little pouch makes you some kinda warrior? I seen men kill with nothin' but a blade and hate."
Tucker (unmoving, eyes fixed): "Ain't about the killin'. It's about the livin'. You let the world dull you, you’re already bled out. This—" (he slipped a pouch under his lip, slow, defiant) "—cuts through the fog. Makes you see the world as it is. Raw. True."
First Man (scoffing): "Fancy talk. You ain't no prophet. Just a man with a tin."
Tucker (leaning forward, firelight catching the hard lines of his face): "Prophet? No. But I ain't blind neither. You cling to your filth, your tar, your slow rot. Me? I choose what keeps me awake. What keeps me movin'. Out here, that’s the only law."
The second man stirred, hand twitching toward the knife at his belt. Tucker’s gaze flicked to him, unyielding, like a hawk sighting prey. The air grew taut, the desert vast and silent around them.
Second Man (voice tight): "You callin' us weak, Carlson?"
Tucker (smiling faint, cold): "I ain't callin' you nothin'. But you draw that blade, you best know what you’re wakin'."
The man froze, hand hovering. The first man laughed, low and nervous, breaking the spell. Tucker eased back, slipping another pouch from the tin, his movements calm, deliberate. The fire popped, and the night swallowed them again.
Tucker (near a whisper, to the dark): "World’s a hard place. You either cut through it, or it cuts you."
The men said nothing more, and the desert listened.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5720835&forum_id=2#48909691) |
Date: May 7th, 2025 12:18 AM Author: self-centered kink-friendly athletic conference
wouldn’t call it a full on larp.
it’s just that he’s pretty much a mix of everything and has changed up his shtick a few times. his current one is no more “absurd” than the previous ones imo
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5720835&forum_id=2#48910009) |
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