Qtards Anonymous

Trusting the Plan is a hell of a drug.

It was a gloomy evening — in fact, it appeared a Storm was fast approaching — as 17 strangers sat around a circle in a dank, frog-infested community hall.

While they came from all walks of life — Military Veterans, Gun-toting Patriots, Basement-Dwelling Incels, Quantum Psychics, Pleiadian Starseeds, Closet Luciferians, Surprisingly-Based Single Mums — they all had one thing in common: a hopeless addiction to Trusting The Plan.

Standing up slowly, the last of the 17 began to nervously speak.

“My name is Isa…iah, and I am a Qtard.”

“Hi Isaiah”.

It felt good to say it, and not be judged, like the last time.

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Isaiah suspected his Doctor was already deep down the wombat hole, having been one of the few lab-coat-wearers to have actively dissuaded his patients from Jibby Jabbing themselves for the good of Western-Imperalist-Capitalist-Molochian society.

In fact, he was fairly sure they had briefly locked eyes at a freedom rally one day, with a faint yet ultimately awkward sense of recognition interrupted as they were both distracted by someone burning an effigy of Dr. Fauci with a dick and balls on his forehead.

Nonetheless: there are levels to this conspiracy stuff, as the Doc’s face revealed:

“Wait… say that again: you actually believe Orange Man is still President?”

“Technically: Commander-in-Chief, since the powers of the Presidency were devolved back to the Military when the Chinah Virus was declared a National Emergency.”

“But didn’t they just arrest him for getting trolled by a Porn Star?”

“That’s just Orange Man baiting the Deep State, forcing (((them))) to set a legal precedent that can then be used against (((them))) in Military Tribunals once full disclosure of (((their))) crimes against humanity are initiated. You could even say Orange Man is sacrificing himself for Ame-”

“No fucking way” the Doc interrupted. “I didn’t know you people actually existed in observable reality — just in online chatrooms, 5D, and the imagination of Liberals.”

“No, we are real. Actually there are more of us than you think. You could be walking down the street and pass right by a Qtard, just minding their own business checking Telegram for the 17th time. Your neighbour could even be a Qtard, and you wouldn’t even know until one day they knocked on your door with the whole list of Military Laws and Executive Orders signed during Orange Man’s 4 year Presidency that prove through an undeniably legal paper trail that the United States is operating under a Continuity of Government.”

“Ok, ok. I get it, kinda, not at all really. But you don’t really believe that Sleepy Joe isn’t actually President and the whole thing is Just A Show, do you?”

“Of course. The entire Bidan inauguration was fake: instead of the normal 4-gun salute (which Orange Man was given as he exited Washington DC on the morning of the 20th), Sleepy Joe was only given a 3 gun salute with 10 second breaks in between, a ceremony typically only used for funerals.”

The Doctor glanced nervously at the consulting room door, which he had just realised had been left slightly open.

“It’s not just the Resident-in-Chief who is fake: the entire Sleepy Joe cabinet is illegitimate, given it is now on record that not one of them has valid Oaths of Office.”

His Secretary, Michelle, had at this point poked her head through the doorway, to make sure everything was ok. The Doctor quickly waved her away.

“In fact, literally every American Deep State political figure is under the control of the Military. They are being told to play out a script so as to gradually show the public how demented and evil they are so that they will consent to The Good Guys visibly taking over and taking back the country via Martial Law after a significant scare event in order to usher in a Rules and Natural Law-based Light New World Order (as opposed to the Satanic-Globalist Dark New World Order) under Almighty God”.

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The Doctor stared, bewildered, at his patient.

He knew that he could not, in good conscience, let Isaiah walk out the door without some form of intervention.

Sure, some of these Qtarded ramblings could potentially be based in factual reality, of what factual reality still existed in The Simulation outside of nature and in-person social interactions. But could they not see how this train of thought was a shortcut to moral nihilism, where literally any Means would justify any highly-debatable Ends — and that their entire worldview rested on the highly-dubious premise that the armed forces somehow have an inherently superior ethical standard than other social institutions?

As the Doc pondered the next course of action, a sudden thought occurred to him.

“Wait… what about that grand I chucked on Orange Man a week before the 2020 election? And the other few hundred when Betfair spiked the odds up to $35/1 just before they settled the Next President market overnight with no warning and against their own Terms of Service? If what you have just said is true, surely I would get my money back, at the very least?”

His patient smiled, and leant forward in his chair, now grinning maniacally.

“Don’t worry Doc, you won’t just be getting your money back, but your winnings. Plus damages…” he added with a wink.

The Doctor paused, again, longer this time… and then, finally, picked up his landline.

“Hello, Michae- ahem, sorry, Michelle? Cancel my remaining appointments please. Yes: it’s worse than we imagined.”

He replaced the phone carefully, got up and — with a quick look either way down the corridor — closed, and locked, the door.

“Ok Isaiah. Tell me more.”