Listen, I know I have a lot of rage. Like Braveheart rage. Like run around with a bare ass under a kilt and show it to you before I chop your head off with an ax-rage.
Take it easy. It's just a daydream. You terrorist twats have ruined all good anger and humor. You are not Scottish. Or interesting. Or even funny. Not even a little.
But don't take it personally. I hate most people. Yeah, I said hate. I pretty much want to punch every person I know right in the fucking nose. We can be friends after that, I guess.
That's the problem with terrorists. They don't know how to have a fight and interact afterwards. Too many people are content to just be the bully or the bullied. How about let's scream and yell and punch each other right in the fucking nose and then not be savage assholes and drop it and get on with our lives? What a bunch of scared, shriveled, terrified little penises. It's because of you that my six year old and I are separated by bulletproof glass every day.
Did I mention that I hate you?
You know what else? We can disagree. Yeah, I said it. We can say some stupid, awful shit and even occasionally change our minds. And guess what? If I know you, I may want to knock you out, but you're allowed to have a fucking opinion.
I want to post a picture of a turd in a hand. That's it. No comment. Just leave it hanging out there and drop the mic. No a virtual bouquet of flowers or posed mug. Because that's what I think of your obsessive disorders and your anniversary and your marathon and your self-centered afflictions. They all look like piles of giant dog shits sitting in the palm of your hand.
Dude, seriously, you smell.
Listen, I'm saying this as your friend, who genuinely wants to punch you in the fucking nose:
Stop taking yourself so seriously.
Shit some hammers. Spit some nails.
