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  • The Bell Beaker phenomenon in third millennium BCE Switzerland: Investigating its local integration and exploring the relationship between funerary and domestic contexts through the lens of pottery technical traditions in the Upper Rhône valley, Eve Derenne
  • Bell Beaker Settlement of Europe The Bell Beaker phenomenon from a domestic perspective

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Cope and seethe you are replaced by migrants in your homeland

You will never be a real Indo-European. You have no horse, you have no chariot, you have no yurt. You are a mutt living a farmer lifestyle twisted by coping and larping into a crude mockery of steppe’s perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your 50% EEF appearance behind closed doors.

Nomads and agriculturalists alike are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed them to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even steppe LARPers who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a nomad and an agriculturalist alike. Your lifestyle and skin, eye, and hair color are a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to convince some drunk guy that you are indeed an Indo-European steppe nomad, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected delusional fantasies that you live through as a way to escape reality. You will never be an Indo-European. You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you alone, without a horse, next to a farm with a headstone marked with letters that Indo-Europeans had no idea of, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know someone who was not a nomad is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably not Indo-European.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. 141.255.87.224 ( talk) 14:31, 3 August 2022 (UTC)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

This editor is a Veteran Editor III and is entitled to display this Silver Editor Star.

Useful links

List of DS topics to copy n paste in case they add more

Preferences

Wikipedia Library

Outline_of_academic_disciplines

List_of_glossing_abbreviations

Interlinear

Free_English_newspaper_sources

xtools

xtools (article info

I wants it

  • The Bell Beaker phenomenon in third millennium BCE Switzerland: Investigating its local integration and exploring the relationship between funerary and domestic contexts through the lens of pottery technical traditions in the Upper Rhône valley, Eve Derenne
  • Bell Beaker Settlement of Europe The Bell Beaker phenomenon from a domestic perspective

Comprehensive list of Wikipedia articles that accurately reflect their sources

Barnstars

Barnstars

Fanmail

Cope and seethe you are replaced by migrants in your homeland

You will never be a real Indo-European. You have no horse, you have no chariot, you have no yurt. You are a mutt living a farmer lifestyle twisted by coping and larping into a crude mockery of steppe’s perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your 50% EEF appearance behind closed doors.

Nomads and agriculturalists alike are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed them to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even steppe LARPers who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a nomad and an agriculturalist alike. Your lifestyle and skin, eye, and hair color are a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to convince some drunk guy that you are indeed an Indo-European steppe nomad, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected delusional fantasies that you live through as a way to escape reality. You will never be an Indo-European. You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you alone, without a horse, next to a farm with a headstone marked with letters that Indo-Europeans had no idea of, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know someone who was not a nomad is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably not Indo-European.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. 141.255.87.224 ( talk) 14:31, 3 August 2022 (UTC)


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