I am fascinated by the spectacle of morons trying to prove that which cannot be proven.
There is a school of imbecilic thought in Romania that argues that Romanian somehow predated and was the source of Latin.
Beyond absurd.
Historicity, linear physics, the laws of cosmos, all these rules and laws, are not even considered by these morons, these proto-chronists.
Their cognitive bias tells them they are right to believe this crap. And they believe it.
Nothing else matters. Everybody who tells them different is wrong. And they alone are right.
More to the point: they also somehow believe the Carpathian Mountains house a series of continental tunnels connecting the Sphinx rock formation in Romania to the real deal on the Giza Plateau.
Meaning this
is connected to that
Yeah, yeah… you better believe it too, eh.
Apparently, these are linked via a series of large underground tunnels, nobody knows exactly where they are, but that is besides the point.
What matters is for their Daco-Getae forefathers to somehow have been related to the Ancient Egyptians, the builders of the Pyramids. Anything else is not acceptable to the proto-chronists.
Romans… fuck that shit. Who cares about the civilization that gave us… well, right about everything, including indoor plumbing. I tell you who doesn’t give a fig about that. The people who brought you theories like Romanian is the mother of Latin, that’s who.
Many of these people still shit in the woods or behind their house. What can I say? The Roman invasion clearly left some Free Dacian holdouts who bred, most likely among themselves, to give out specimen who rejected indoor plumbing.
No, sir.
It is clear to me that inferior civilizations must always be overcome by superior ones.
If only just because morons should not have an equal say in any matter with people who use between 5 and 15% of their brain power.
But it is true. There’s a bunch of Romanians who claim to this day that Dacians built tunnels to Egypt and Romanian predates Latin.
I kid you not.
Some Romanians have a physical need to be important that cannot be met by anything else outside a massive gaslighting operation that makes them feel special.
Now I get it. We all need to feel special sometimes. Some of us need to feel special all the time.
But to make up a story as phantasmagoric as this one. That takes the cake.
The Kurwa-Malaka cake or line.
Post scriptum
It is becoming increasingly repugnant to me that my most popular, best read blog post of all times has been the Romanian is not the Mother of Latin that I published almost 4 years ago.
I say repugnant and I mean it. In the past five years, I have published 318 posts, any of them worthy of your scrutiny on its own merits. It is a symptom of the end of these troubled times that people should choose to spend 21 minutes reading about why Romanian did not birth Latin.
My point is this. I hope this third installment of the story will put to rest this phantasmagory, this aberration, this figment of an inebriated Romanian’s imagination.
The old Dacian King Burebista was perhaps right to order the burning of the famous vineyards. Too many fools cannot hold their fucking liquor. And that’s a crying shame, mates. That’s a crying shame.
Götterdämmerung 