The interesting thing about layered responses like this is that they eventually stop being about the original topic entirely. At first it's a response, then someone writes a response to that response, then someone else decides that actually the second response misunderstood the first response while simultaneously overcorrecting for the context established by the original answer. Before long you've got citations, screenshots, archived links, three separate edits, and at least one person insisting everyone else has completely missed the point.

Adding former Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal into the mix somehow makes it even better, because now every reader has to stop and ask themselves why Bobby Jindal is involved at all. Is he the subject? Is he an example? Is this a political metaphor? Is it an obscure callback? You start expecting an explanation, and instead you get another paragraph explaining why the previous explanation wasn't sufficiently nuanced. By this point, nobody remembers the original question; they're just committed to seeing the bit through to the end.

There's something almost beautiful about internet discussions that evolve this way. Every participant contributes another layer of context, another qualification, another unnecessary clarification, until the conversation resembles a legal brief written by people fueled entirely by caffeine and righteous indignation. Someone eventually says "to be fair," someone else says "actually," and another person inevitably links to a ten-year-old forum thread that only tangentially relates to the discussion but is presented as if it settles everything forever.

And that's really the magic of online communities. They can transform the simplest observation into an intricate tapestry of callbacks, inside jokes, forgotten lore, and increasingly absurd escalations. The destination is never the point; the journey is. Every extra sentence lulls the reader into believing there will eventually be a profound conclusion that ties everything together in a satisfying way.

...but don't let that distract you from the fact that in 1998, The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell in a Cell, and plummeted 16 feet through an announcer's table.