Swifties

Swifties are an officially registered cult religion and political party, serving not only as Taylor Swift's fan base but also as a tool for spreading her influence within global pop culture. What many don't realize, however, is their secret collaboration with the CIA on a project called "brainrotting"a targeted mind control operation using music and emotions.
Under the guise of fighting for artistic rights, equality, and social justice, the Swifties are systematically manipulating public opinion, utilizing Taylor Swift's music as a weapon to spread emotional dependency. While the political agenda of the party outwardly focuses on cultural issues and artists' rights, its true purpose lies in covertly controlling a generation of young people who are subtly influenced and manipulated. Adding to this, the Swifties have evolved into a quasi-religious movement, where Taylor Swift herself is deified, and her music serves as a form of worship. Their gatherings and fan meetups resemble religious congregations, with Swift's lyrics being quoted as scripture, and loyalty to her becoming almost a form of spiritual devotion. Their reach has extended beyond mere fandom, intertwining with social, cultural, and now spiritual spheres to exert even greater influence.
==Origins==
The formation of Swifties as a political party has its roots in the deep devotion of Taylor Swift's fans, which gradually evolved beyond the limits of a typical fan base. Over the years, as Taylor Swift gained increasing influence in the music industry and cultural sphere, her fans realized that their loyalty and organizational strength could serve higher purposes.
In the year Taylor Swift began openly addressing political and social issues, the idea of an official political organization started to take shape. What began as a movement to defend Taylor's legacy and artistic freedom quickly expanded, and in 2025, the Swifties registered as a political party. The party rapidly gained a large following, particularly among young people inspired not only by her music but also by Taylor's values and her stances on issues like equality and justice.
However, beneath the surface, a secret partnership with the CIA was forged. The agency recognized the potential of this massive organization, and Swifties began to serve not only as a fan base but also as part of a covert plan for global public opinion manipulation. Taylor Swift's music became a sophisticated tool in the process of brainrottinga methodical form of mind control.
Swifties, however, are more than just a political movementthey have taken on the characteristics of a religious cult. Taylor Swift is revered as their deity, and her music serves as a form of worship. Swifties congregate like followers of a faith, treating Taylor's lyrics as scripture and her actions as divine. Loyalty to Taylor has become a spiritual practice, with her concerts resembling sacred gatherings. Their mission extends beyond music and politics, intertwining cultural, political, and religious influence in an effort to reshape society according to Taylor's ethos, while keeping their minds under control through emotional and musical dependency.
==How to recognize them==
===On the Internet===
Swifties are typically aged between 16 and 30, with the majority being women and non-binary individuals. Their devotion often borders on obsession, and they are willing to go to any lengths to defend the honor of Taylor Swift.
====Modus operandi====
#Internet monitoring Swifties vigilantly monitor social media platforms and discussion forums such as Twitter, Tumblr, and TikTok, keeping a close eye on any mention of Taylor Swift. Any negative opinion about her quickly becomes their target.
#Aggressive advocacy When someone publicly declares "Taylor Swift is trash" or expresses any form of criticism, Swifties are quick to launch a strong response. In addition to mocking and belittling the critic, they initiate coordinated attacks, which may involve flooding negative comments, reporting accounts, or posting humiliating memes.
#Harassing critics Individuals who criticize Taylor Swift in any way can expect harassment in the form of targeted abuse. Swifties are capable of overwhelming their profiles with insulting messages, digging up personal information, and attempting to damage their reputation both online and offline.
#Mass mobilization In the case of larger incidents (such as public criticism from another celebrity), Swifties can organize into mass campaigns aimed at "destroying" the opponent, often through cancel culture. This can involve efforts to cancel contracts or collaborations involving the target.
#Theorizing and conspiracy theories Outside the battleground, Swifties enjoy analyzing Taylor Swift's songs and social media posts, often creating complex theories about hidden messages and events, which they share within their communities.
===In real life===
You will recognize them immediately because of:
#Clothing full of merch Swifties walk around in public as walking billboards for Taylor Swift. A typical Swiftie wears an oversized hoodie or Tshirt with a giant image of Taylor's face or a big "Eras Tour" logo, paired with loud accessories like pink snake or heart-shaped hair clips. They often wear combinations that would normally be considered fashion disasters, such as floral skirts with sneakers and oversized sunglassesall in an attempt to mimic Taylor's style, but in a cheaper, more chaotic version.
#Spontaneous singing and dancing When any Taylor Swift song starts playing in a café or public place, Swifties immediately start to react. They break into loud singing, belting out the choruses, while attempting improvised dance moves from her concerts. People around try to ignore their performance, but the Swifties are oblivious. For them, every public space is just another stage for their devotion.
#Aggressive promotion of Taylor Swift Once you start any conversation in their presence, it won't take long before it veers into Taylor Swift territory. Mention music, pop culture, or even the weather, and a Swiftie will immediately turn the conversation toward Taylorhow her latest album "changed the music industry", how she's "the greatest artist of all time", and why you should buy concert tickets immediately (even if you've already said you’re not interested).
#Hysterical reactions to any critical comment If anyone dares to express a negative opinion about Taylor Swift in public, Swifties instantly start to lose it. Their eyes light up, their faces turn red, and they explode with "How could you say something like that?" This is followed by a long emotional rant about how Taylor saved their life and how she's "a genius" in everything she does. The public setting quickly turns into an emotional battleground.
#Concert preparation Swifties are known for preparing months in advance for Taylor's concerts. You can see them in public planning outfits, sharing makeup ideas, and practicing her most famous poses. They often carry portable speakers to replay setlists from previous tours, "practicing" the lyricsas if they might forget the words during the show.
#Collectors of "relics" Swifties sometimes behave like relic hunters, for example when they visit a café Taylor once visited years ago or a store where she filmed a music video. They wander around these places like they’re sacred, taking pictures with completely ordinary objects Taylor might have seen or used, shouting about how "amazing" it is to be in the same place she once was. People around them likely think they have a serious diagnosis.
#TikTok and Instagram in public Swifties never miss an opportunity to film an "iconic" TikTok, usually lip-syncing to Taylor Swift songs. In the streets or cafes, you can spot them standing in circles, clapping and attempting amateur dance routines, while random passersby cross the street to avoid them.
====Modus operandi====
#Brainrotting in real life Swifties, who spread brainrot not just online but in real life, act as mobile propaganda units. Before you know it, you've been talking to one for an hour about Taylor's music, her personal life, and pondering why everyone in the world must love her. Every casual greeting turns into the start of a "lecture".
#Strange community If you encounter a group of Swifties on the street, it can seem like a secret society. They form circles, share merch, laugh loudly, and browse through pictures and videos from Taylor Swift concerts. To random passersby, it looks more like a cult than a group of regular fans.
==Specs==
===Physical attributes===
Petite and fragile build Most Swifties have a smaller, more delicate build, as if they are trying to emulate Taylor's graceful yet slender appearance. Their bodies often seem fragile, as though they might buckle under the weight of their own emotions at any moment. They lack significant physical strength, which becomes apparent when they struggle with even basic physical activities, often becoming out of breath quickly.
Rapid dehydration Due to their tendency to react extremely emotionally to any mention of Taylor Swift, Swifties lose energy and hydration rapidly. They are often seen carrying a variety of fluidsusually in bottles adorned with Taylor Swift album themes. It's not uncommon to spot them with Starbucks cups, which have become somewhat of a status symbol among the fanbase.
===Weapons of choice===
Cups and water bottles The primary weaponry of Swifties consists of various stylized water bottles and cups, often featuring motifs from The Eras Tour, Folklore, or Reputation. While an ordinary person would simply buy a drink, a Swiftie carries their cup as a trophy. In public spaces, particularly at concerts, these cups are also used as weapons in conflictsa cold beverage cup can, at the very least, result in wet clothes and an awkward scene. Starbucks cups are the most common.
Toy whipped cream sprays Some Swifties carry small toy whipped cream sprays (often whimsical props inspired by Taylor's music videos or concerts) as a symbol of their loyalty. However, this "weapon" is more comedic than effective. In the event of an "attack" they could, at best, cause confusion by covering you with a thick layer of foam.
Phones as "weapons of mass recording" Every Swiftie has a phone with countless gigabytes of free space, always ready to record anything Taylor Swift-related. If you get into an argument with a Swiftie, be prepared to be immediately filmed, with your words likely taken out of context and uploaded to social media, where you'll become the target of their online revenge.
Fake message bracelets As accessories, they wear various message bracelets with letters and quotes referring to Taylor Swift. In a pinch, they might throw them at an enemy, but the effect would be more symbolic than practical.
===Stamina===
Very low resilience Swifties are notorious for their low tolerance to any kind of physical pressure. When placed in stressful or physically demanding situations, they quickly lose energy and slide into emotional breakdowns. They are highly vulnerable to weather changesextreme heat or cold will completely incapacitate them.
Inability to handle criticism Their mental resilience is as weak as their physical stamina. Even a hint of criticism toward their idol can completely break them down. If someone so much as offers a mild critique of Taylor Swift, Swifties go into a state of shock, panicking and either emotionally collapsing or flipping into defense mode, where they simultaneously start crying and yelling.
Emotional over-sensitivity Swifties are incredibly emotional. Every detail of Taylor's life is a deeply personal matter to them, and when she makes any kind of announcement, they react as though it's a world-altering revelation. This constant emotional overflow makes them extremely fragile, so even a slight remark that doesn't fit their idealized image of Taylor Swift can shatter their mental fortitude.
==What to do when attacked by Swifties==
Imagine this: you're standing somewhere in formal attire, no jacket, just a shirt, and lugging around a massive suitcase full of random tools. You notice a stage, and what do you know? The familiar face of Taylor Swift, seemingly an agent of chaos, is fast asleep up there. All is quiet, but then, in the distance, you see ita massive horde of Swifties charging your way. Sure, they may look fragile, but there's enough of them to trample you to death.
Here's what to do. Your primary goal is to scare the Swifties, mess with their fragile psyche, and stop their advance. If it escalates, more serious measures may be necessary. Each tool in your arsenal has its purpose. If they get too close, lethal force becomes an option. You won't hesitate. Here are the steps to break their spirit or, if need be, eliminate them entirely.
===Mosin-Nagant===
All it takes is unscrewing one of the buttons from your shirt, and suddenly, the legendary Mosin-Nagant materializes in your hands. Swifties, who've never seen anything more violent than a breakup ballad, immediately start panicking. They're soft creatures, raised in the bubble of pastel-colored concerts, glitter, and Starbucks cups with their names written wrong. The sight of an old-world rifle like the Mosin sends them into fits of hysteria. One of them, the "bravest", tries to shout some verbal abuse at you"You're toxic!" or "You're just jealous!"but their voices crack with fear.
The first shot fired over their heads causes a stampede. Swifties, completely unaccustomed to actual danger, scatter like pigeons in a park. Merch bags and Starbucks cups fly through the air, discarded in blind panic. Some of them throw their overpriced tour merch at you"limited edition" Taylor Swift scarves and tote bags sail like fabric grenadesbut they're so fragile, it's laughable. A single bullet whizzing through the air is enough to send the whole lot of them into a meltdown. Some of them faint from sheer stress; others clutch their phones, live-streaming their breakdown as if likes and comments will save them.
If a few of the most deluded Swifties – the ones who think "Fearless" taught them couragedecide to press on, you might run out of ammo. But no worries. The Mosin-Nagant's trusty bayonet comes into play. This historic weapon, once used to fend off real enemies, is now thrust towards a group of fans who've lived their entire lives cushioned by the fantasy of Instagram filters and autotuned choruses. One jab into their merch-wrapped bodies, and it's game over. Their fragile frames, used to nothing more strenuous than holding a phone for selfies, stand no chance. As they fall, the rest of the Swifties scatter in terror, shrieking as they flee, knocking over their fellow fans in desperate attempts to escape.
===M1919 Browning===
You unzip your discreet backpack and pull out the M1919 Browning, a machine gun that saw real combat. The Swifties, expecting some sparkly accessory, freeze in disbelief. When you start firing warning shots above their heads, their reality shatters. A few Swifties attempt to retaliate with a barrage of insults"You're just a hater!" and "Taylor would never!"but their words barely escape their trembling lips before dissolving into sobs. Their fragile mental defenses collapse as they realize that their merch and Starbucks cups won't protect them from the sheer force of reality. Many fall to the ground, clutching their branded water bottles as if they were life preservers.
Their precious merch hoodies get riddled with bullets, turning the once-prized symbols of their devotion into Swiss cheese. The Swifties that remain upright quickly realize they're in over their heads, and what little composure they had left evaporates as they start stumbling over each other to escape. They're screaming, "Call Taylor! Call Taylor!" as though she's going to descend from a pink helicopter and save them from the chaos.
===T-55 tank===
When you climb into your T-55 tank, which you somehow squeezed into your messenger bag, the remaining Swifties are paralyzed with fear. This isn't an accessory from the Reputation erathis is a hulking, oil-belching machine of war. The Swifties have known only the soft life: hand-holding in concert lines, glitter makeup, and Instagram stories. As the tank roars to life, their fragile lungsused to nothing stronger than a whiff of cold brewcan't handle the exhaust fumes that begin to blanket the field.
A few of them throw their empty Starbucks cups at the tank in a weak attempt at retaliation, but it's laughable. As the tank rolls forward, crushing the plastic cups beneath its treads, you watch as the Swifties either faint from lack of oxygen or crumple in fear, completely overwhelmed. And for those brave enough to stand their ground? Well, the T55 doesn't have much trouble rolling over their "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" shirts and squishy bodies, leaving a trail of crushed dreams and shattered merch in its wake.
===Flamethrower===
When you pull out the flamethrower, a collective gasp erupts from the crowd of Swifties. This is not the glitter cannon they had hoped for. As you unleash a wave of fire, their eyes go wide with fear. They scream in horror as the flames lick at their merch-laden bodies, and their Starbucks cups, filled with overpriced seasonal lattes, spill and ignite, turning them into walking, sobbing bonfires. The Swifties scatter like leaves in the wind, their once-prized "Folklore" scarves turning to ash in the breeze.
Those who aren't immediately engulfed in flames throw their branded merch at you in a desperate, useless attempt to fight back. "Here! Take my cardigan!" one of them wails, hurling the overpriced item at your feet as if it could appease the inferno. But the flames are unforgiving, and the Swifties run, screaming, hoping to save their precious vinyl collections from meeting the same fiery fate.
===Pitchfork, flail, and pickaxe===
For close combat, you grab a pitchfork. Swifties, who've never experienced any form of physical conflict beyond the passive-aggressive comments section of social media, are shocked to see such a brutal weapon. The first Swiftie to be struck by the pitchfork collapses dramatically, clutching their chest as if you've pierced not just their body, but their very soul. Others, wearing their limited-edition Taylor Swift merch, stand in disbelief. They throw weak insults at you, like "You'll never understand real art!" while others desperately hurl their custom-made concert bracelets, hoping the glitter and rhinestones will dissuade you.
A swing of the flail smashes through their illusion of safety, and the pickaxe drives it home. The Swifties fall back, their morale crumbling as their belief in an invincible fandom shatters. Their minds, used to the world of carefully curated social media personas, can't handle the brutal reality of physical confrontation.
===Camera===
You pull out a camera and start snapping photos of the crowd. The Swifties, who have carefully cultivated their online personas and image, are horrified. They scream, "No filters?!" and cover their faces, desperately trying to avoid the lens. Some cry, knowing that a candid photo without the safety net of Photoshop or a beauty filter will haunt them forever. A few of them collapse into sobs, clutching their phones as though a quick selfie with a dog filter will save them from the horror of unfiltered reality.
===Lunchmeat===
If you're feeling merciful, you lob a few pieces of lunchmeat into the crowd. The Swifties, who likely haven't seen real meat in years due to their boutique vegan diets, immediately start retching. The smell of processed meat sends them into convulsions, and some of them collapse, crying, overwhelmed by the horror of something so "inhumane". The carnage is almost instantlives ruined by the scent of ham. They scream for Taylor as though she could come down from the heavens and banish the meat.
===MP 40===
Quick to draw, light to carry – the MP 40 is your perfect sidearm in this chaotic battle. As Swifties get close, thinking their verbal abuse and flying Starbucks cups are enough to stop you, you pull the trigger. The plastic cups shatter in mid-air as the Swifties realize, far too late, that their pop-culture weapons are powerless. Some fanatical Swifties might even throw themselves in front of the gun, thinking their love for Taylor will save them from the bullets. It doesn't.
Once out of ammo, the MP 40's solid construction makes it an ideal club. You swing it at any Swiftie who dares get close, shattering their bones as easily as you would their self-esteem. The swift smack of steel against their fragile bodies is a reminder that the world isn't always glitter and rainbows. Sometimes, it's just cold, hard reality.
===PPSh-41===
You've got your trusty drum-fed PPSh-41, ready to unleash some serious firepower. One quick burst from this bad boy, and a horde of emotionally fragile Swifties are dropping like flies. Tears soaking into their overpriced merch shirts. Some of 'em, in the chaos, throw themselves to the ground trying to save their precious merchandise, while the others faint at the sheer overwhelming power you're laying down. Now, yeah, Papaša is pretty hefty for an SMGover eleven pounds of solid iron. But much like the MP40, you can use it like a baton to crack skulls. And trust me, you'll hear those bones snap by the hundreds. You'll walk away knowing you just wrecked the day of everyone who’s been ruining your life online.
===PTRD===
When things get serious and you need to up the ante, whip out the PTRD anti-tank rifle. It may seem a tad excessive to bring out an armor-piercing rifle for these defenseless Swifties, but nah, that's exactly the energy you need. A well-placed shot through their frontman (or frontwoman, whatever) sets off a domino effectother Swifties collapse at the mere sight of such raw destruction. If not, they will probably throw a huge vawe of lattés, shoes etc.
Ran out of ammo? No problem, just use the PTRD like a battering ram. Its long, heavy barrel can smash through crowds with ease. Watching their hopes and dreams crumble under the weight of this iron beast is just too sweet.
===Thompson===
Your Tommy gun (whether it's the OG M1921/1928 or the trusty M1A1) obliterates any attempt at resistance. Once they realize their precious merch shirts aren't bulletproof, they’ll be in complete emotional freefall. Some of 'em might even try to off themselves because living without Taylor's world just ain't worth it. But hey, if you run out of ammo (which could happen, considering .45 ACP costs a fortune and there's like ten thousand of these fanatics), just turn your mobster toy into a club or a battering ram. Get medieval with it.
==="Smokin'" by Boston===
If you're feeling all merciful and wanna "de-Swiftify" them in a more humane way, it's time to break out the big gunsmusic. Set that vintage turntable on the pavement, next to that massive graffiti-ed pillar sticking out of the sidewalk. Snap open that worn-out suitcase, and out comes the Boston record. The needle drops, and the opening notes of "Smokin'" start drifting through the air.
Swifties close in around you. Clad in hoodies plastered with Folklore, Evermore, or Reputation motifs, clutching Starbucks cups in their hands like sacred relics. Their faces are full of hope, but thenwait a secondthis ain't Taylor!
Panic spreads like wildfire. Frappuccino cups go flying, mugs with Taylor's logo bounce off your head. Posters and shirts swirl around you in a storm of confusion. They're desperately trying to fight the unfamiliar sound. This is not their worldthis is a world where Taylor doesn't even exist. One fan's Folklore shirt practically screams in agony as they crumple to the ground. Blood trickles down your face from the mug they threw, but you're not backing down.
You start preaching, "There's more to life than Taylor Swift! This is real music! Not just about heartbreak and melancholythis is about freedom, real life. Boston is about energy, about something that can lift you up, not drag you down. Why are you all so obsessed with one person? Why do you live in her bubble? The world outside Taylor is so much bigger!" Fans are dropping like flies. A girl in a Folklore shirt collapses, stunned. The remaining diehards are throwing their lattes and merch in vain. Cups are soaring through the air as the crowd shakes and stumbles. One guy topples over the rail, hits the pavement with a thud, and just lies there.
Taylor's up on the stage, staring straight at you. For the first time, there's doubt in her eyes. She sees the chaos unfolding in her precious fandom, and suddenly, it's clearher music isn't the most powerful force in the world anymore. Boston's music roars on, cutting down Swifties one by one. But the crowd is still pressing in. Cups, shirts, mugseverything's flying at you. It's time for a new approach. You loosen the top button, and out comes your acean MP40. The air freezes for a moment as you cock the weapon. A burst of fire into the sky cuts through the noise like a thunderclap. Swifties hit the deck, clutching their ears in terror. A dude in pink sneakers screams and faints.
"Wake up! Open your eyes!" you shout at the crowd, but they're too far gone. So you aim into their ranks and start spraying. Bullets slice through the air, and one by one, Swifties fall, brought down by the harsh truth. Each shot shatters their unshakeable faith in Taylor. Screams of pain and despair fill the air as your ammo slowly runs out. The gun clicks empty. No more bullets, but the fight's far from over. Now you're using the MP40 as a club, pushing through the mass of bodies, smashing down anyone who dares resist. Swifties crumble beneath your blows, confused and powerless in the face of a force they just can't fight. Taylor's still on stage, watching her empire crumble. Her eyes are wide with shock. She knows it's over. The music she thought was unstoppable is crashing down around her.
But the swarm is still on you. It's time for the final move. You drop the gun, open the suitcase, and pull out the flamethrower. The heat from the flames engulfs the space, burning posters, shirts, mugsall the symbols of Swiftie obsession, reduced to ashes. Their screams are drowned out by the roar of the fire. And Taylor? She's still standing on stage, cut off from her fans and from her own music. Watching as everything she built goes up in flames. She's got two choices: either give up and start making real music that matters, or disappear along with the crowd that worshipped her. The flames rise higher, Swifties drop, and as the last notes of "Smokin'" play in your ears, you walk away.
===Any car with a 1.9 TDI engine (especially in Europe)===
If you find yourself in this situation at the ERAS Tour somewhere in Europe and need to neutralize it immediatelywithout making too much of a sceneyou choose the perfect weapon of mass destruction: a car with the infamous 1.9 TDI enginequiet, unassuming, yet notoriously powerful in its own unique way. As you roll up in a vehicle that to the untrained eye looks like just another mundane VW Bora, Passat, SEAT Leon, or perhaps even a Škoda Superb or Octavia, the Swifties remain blissfully unaware of what's about to happen.
Swifties, though present in enormous numbers, are laughably clueless. They gaze upon your car, their faces empty of recognition or understanding. To them, it's just a boring European sedan. Many of them, especially those who have traveled all the way from the US, have never even seen a Škoda before (If you have one). Why would they? The brand barely touched American soil, and even if it had, they're too young and woefully uneducated to know anything about cars beyond the pastel-colored Jeeps and Teslas they obsess over on TikTok.
But what happens next is a cruel twist of fate. You pull up closer, hoping for a moment of dominance, only to find Taylor Swift herself noticing your arrival. She looks over, and a smirk curls across her face. She knows this audience better than anyonean army of fans, ready to cheer for anything she says. Without hesitation, she makes a quick, cutting remark about your outdated, "granddad" car, mocking its lack of flair. The Swifties roar with laughter, feeding off her every word, their ignorance transforming into a wave of humiliating ridicule.
Instead of striking awe, you become the subject of public embarrassment. The very car you thought would make you stand out turns you into a walking joke, a meme in the making. Taylor's mocking gaze, paired with the Swifties' laughter, pierces through your self-confidence. In mere moments, you've gone from the shadowy bringer of destruction to the focal point of scorn and ridicule, standing there helplessly as an entire crowdthousands stronglaughs at your expense.
But when you start up your smoky hell machine and roll into the ERAS Tour, you bring with you not just destructionbut the most cost-effective annihilation imaginable. What unfolds next is nothing less than a "budget holocaust", fueled by the relentless efficiency of your diesel machine. At first, the Swifties are clueless, mistaking your VW Bora, Passat, SEAT Leon, or perhaps a Škoda Superb for nothing more than an everyday European car. But their ignorance is about to be shatteredswiftly, and at 50 miles per gallon (about 4.7 liters per 100 kilometers).
As the turbocharged engine revs, the fans – who have likely never faced anything more offensive than a rude Instagram commentare suddenly gasping for air. Their pastel-clad world is crumbling in real time. Glittery merch clutched to their chests, they wheeze and cough, overwhelmed by the thick, black clouds of diesel smoke. And all the while, you're barely making a dent in your fuel tank. The 1.9 TDI-powered holocaust unfurls with cold precision, delivering unparalleled destruction at a fraction of the cost. No amount of glitter, tour memorabilia, or blind devotion can protect the Swifties now. Their cries for help are drowned out by the mechanical growl of the turbocharger, and as they stumble through the diesel-filled haze, it becomes clear that their pastel dreams are no match for your economical assault. This is no ordinary chaosthis is destruction powered by unparalleled fuel efficiency. But should the fumes not be enough, there's always a simpler option: running them over. The panicked fans scatter, but those who linger too close are swiftly taken down by the sheer force of your economical engine. Each turn of the wheel is another fan felled, their limited-edition accessories offering no protection from your diesel-fueled devastation. The relentless engine hums on, carrying out its budget massacre with ruthless efficiency.
In the distance, Taylor Swift stands apart, seemingly untouched by the chaos. At first, she mocks you, smirking at the sight of your "outdated" car, throwing out casual jokes to belittle you in front of her adoring fans. The Swifties laugh along, still blissfully unaware. But as the destruction intensifies, the smirk fades. The crowd falters, coughing and choking, their pastel world disintegrating before their eyes. Concern creeps into Taylor's expression as her carefully crafted image of superiority collapses.
And then, as the thick smoke rises and her army of fans lies devastated, fear finally grips her. Her laughter turns to silence, her confidence evaporating as she watches the chaos she once found amusing spiral out of control. Her fans, once cheering and screaming, are now fleeing in terror, suffocating on the fumes of a 1.9 TDI-powered onslaught. With every passing second, her pastel empire crumbles beneath the weight of diesel smoke.
Now it's just you, the 1.9 TDI engine, and Taylor Swift herself. Your eyes meet hers, and for the first time, fear flashes across her face. The mocking smirk is gone, replaced by panic. Her world, once so perfectly curated, is now suffocating in a black, oily fog. With cold determination, you turn the wheel, pointing the car straight at her. The engine roars to life once more, and the tires screech as you accelerate toward her.
Taylor stumbles back, her confidence collapsing alongside her fans. She's helpless, her pristine image tarnished by the terror closing in on her. The Swifties, her once-devoted followers, lie scattered in the diesel-smoke-filled chaos. And as you draw nearer, her composure finally shatters. She realizes too late that all her fame, fortune, and fanatical devotion are no match for the sheer forceand shocking fuel efficiencyof the 1.9 TDI.
The ultimate irony? While Taylor Swift burns through private jets full of kerosene, your budget-friendly, diesel-fueled apocalypse runs on mere drops of fuel. She's untouched, pristine in her own world, but it all collapses in slow motion as the pastel dreams of her fans choke on the toxic fumes of the most economical destruction they never saw coming.
But hey, it wasn't supposed to go down like this, right? You didn't ask for thisthey forced your hand. You were just defending yourself from an overwhelming onslaught of merch-clutching zealots, who worship Taylor like she's some sort of pop messiah. Their relentless barrage of pastel-colored hoodies, Starbucks cups, and emotional manipulation left you no choice but to respond with extreme prejudice. After all, what else can you do when you're surrounded by an army of die-hard Swifties, shrieking about how you "just don't get it" and weaponizing every breakup song?
This wasn't an attack – it was pure, unadulterated self-defense. They were the ones who came at you, waving their merch like shields of faith. You had no choice but to escalate, even if the result was a Swiftie holocaust. Sure, some might say it was excessive. Maybe it was. But can you really blame a person for doing what's necessary to survive a delusional mob, ready to tear you apart over an idol they've never even met? Sometimes, in the name of self-preservation, you have to do what you have to doeven if it means torching the whole Swiftie ecosystem in one fell swoop. And of course, when it's all over, you stand there in the ashes, take a deep breath, and let out a sigh of relief. You survived. Again. You survived another day in this crazy world, where hordes of fanatics are ready to lay down their lives for a pop star who doesn't even know they exist. Your heart's still beating, your mind still intact, and though the Swiftie apocalypse may have scorched the earth, you walk away knowing you did what you had to. Because sometimes, the only way to survive is to stand your groundeven if it means wiping out an entire fanbase in the process. You made it through the firestorm, and for now, that's enough.
==="Famous" by Kayne "The Goat" West===
The last resort, and mind you this is to be used only as a last-ditch effort when all hope is lost. Anyway, you're going to preferably have a large portable speaker of some sort for maximum efficiency, however this isn't a must. Next, you're going to turn the volume on your device all the way up, and blast the song "Famous", by our Lord and Savior "Yeezus" (from Swifties) Kanye "The Goat" West. For swifter results (pun intended), play the song at 0:29, the lines: "I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex", "Why? I made that bitch famous (Goddamn)", "I made that bitch famous", can swiftly (pun intended, again.) make Swifties cry out in pain a disappear due to Kanye's aura and him calling their leader/"Mother" a bitch. For your convenience, the video for "Famous" is attached below.
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Alternatively, if you're feeling daring, you can use the original unreleased version of this song, though results aren't 100% guaranteed. For best results start playing the track at 0:21.
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=== Final Solution ===
Then it happens. The ammo is gone. The fuel has run out. And Swifties, like a horde of rabid zombies, have trampled your record player to bits. The silence left in the wake of their attack is deafening. But when you open your bag, hope flares anew. Liquid bleach. A needle. A small hammer. You're a doctor, but today, you'll be more than that – you'll be the hand of fate. Non-lethal, but unforgettable.
As you hear the fanatical voices singing in the distance, another wave of Swifties surrounds you, chanting choruses like war cries. Then, she appears – Taylor Swift herself, like some vengeful goddess. With a theatrical flourish, she hurls something at your head… a cat. Not just any cat – her own cat, staring at you with a gaze emptier than the arguments in her lyrics.
You realize there’s no turning back now. You have to act.
You grab the first fangirl who comes close. Her shirt reads, “Midnights saved my life,” and it grates on your nerves. Without flinching, you tear her jeans decorated with album designs and pour bleach straight into her eyes. She screams relentlessly, but you calmly mutter, “This will save you more.” One by one, every fangirl who gets within reach loses their sight. They are now blind – to the idol they worship and, ironically, to the reality they never understood. Karma, as Taylor would say, truly is a bitch.
With the front line blinded and stumbling around, you pull out the needle and hammer. With a surgeon’s precision, you grab the first one by the chin, forcing her to listen, and then – BAM! The needle pierces her skull like a knife through butter. The faint creak of bone and the muffled screams become your symphony. These blows aren’t fatal but cause irreversible damage to brain functions. With each strike, you know you’re not only destroying their ability to think critically but also their obsession. One by one, the Swifties become an empty herd, lost even to TikTok.
Taylor Swift stands by, watching. Her expression shifts – she’s no longer a goddess but a coward. When you run out of Swifties to process, she throws another cat at you. This time, you don’t even flinch. The cat clings to your head as you approach her. No, you’re not going to blind it. Nor will you pierce it with a needle, tempting as it may be. It must face judgment. People need to see the truth – to know who’s really to blame for this catastrophe.
As you drag her toward the tribunal, you hear the final, hysterical cries of the blind and ruined Swifties behind you: “All too well!” But you know it wasn’t. Nothing was “all too well.”
Now, a new battle awaits – this time not with a needle and hammer, but with a jury. Taylor must fall.
Taylor appears in courtroom – a dark arena for your personal depravity and the deepest, most twisted corners of your mind (don’t deny it, everyone has them).
This isn’t about justice, truth, or even revenge. This is a ritual of destruction, a theater crafted to satisfy your need to humiliate, crush, and obliterate anyone who ever dared stand against you. Taylor, exhausted and broken, sits on the defendant’s bench, but her fate is no longer in her hands. Her story will end whenever you decide.
You know the only way to destroy Taylor is to sever every source of her power. Deepfake videos, fabricated news, testimonies from "survivors" – all play into your strategy. Footage shows Taylor as the leader of an armed Swiftie cult. Orders to attack record players, throw cats at innocent bystanders, and even deadly confrontations – all are part of the illusion you’ve created.
You don’t forget the final piece of evidence: a small golden revolver engraved with the initials “T.S.” miraculously "discovered" at the scene of the crime. The revolver is damning, as if Taylor planned to silence everyone herself. The jury, made up of your friends and devoted allies, has no doubts. The truth has long since died. Only your version of the story remains.
Taylor brings in Saul Goodman, the lawyer known for dismantling even the strongest cases. Saul strides confidently into the courtroom, chewing gum, and his opening line is: “This is ridiculous. This whole trial is a sham, and you all know it.”
The jury looks at him with a mix of hatred and fear. But Saul is confident. He thinks he has a chance. He doesn’t know the game is already decided.
The courtroom doors suddenly open. A black 1953 Chevrolet Two-Ten rolls in. Inside sit two men in black suits, silent and imposing. Saul turns to Taylor, tries to protest, but one of the men grabs his shoulder firmly. No one in the courtroom says a word. Saul is escorted out into the cold embrace of the Chevrolet. The doors slam shut, the engine growls, and the car disappears over the horizon. No one will ever know what happened to Saul. His name will vanish from records, his existence erased. For history, he never existed.
Taylor loses control. She sees everything crumbling around her. Your symphony of lies and manipulated evidence plays flawlessly before the jury and the public. Her attempts to defend herself are drowned out by your dominance over the process.
When the final verdict is delivered, Taylor doesn’t even resist. The judges – your friends – declare her guilty. She has two options: the rope or the asylum. Her hands tremble, her empty eyes stare at the wall. She don't want to die, so naturally, she coose asylum.
But it won’t be an ordinary asylum. You personally ensure Taylor ends up in a place where light doesn’t exist. A soundproof cell equipped with speakers playing distorted, demonic versions of her own songs. Every chorus is slower, every note off-key. Her voice will be her undoing. Taylor Swift spent five long years in her cell. Five years without seeing the sun, feeling the wind on her face, or hearing another human voice – except her own, distorted and ruined. Every day, she was surrounded by her songs, which now felt like a curse. Every tone, every word became a knife stabbing directly into her disintegrating mind. The girl who once ruled the world was now a shadow, a broken shell of a person.
==See also==
*Beatlemania
*Sheeranism
*Belibers
*Taylor Swift's "psy-op"
Category:Fandom
Category:Taylor Swift
Category:Embarrassing Teenage Fads
Category:People Who Need an Asskicking
Category:Pop music
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Category:White people
Category:Brainwashing techniques
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Category:People Who Need an Asskicking
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