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Saturday, June 17, 2017

From the well-lettered Kit Thornton.


Insults I've leveled at deserving Philistines. Feel free to use where justified:
He could f--- an anthill without waking a single ant.
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You aren't stupid. Stupid should be a long-term goal for you. Carefully work your way up to stupid.
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That was not an insult, you rancid heap of medical waste. This is an insult:
Your presence is a pestilence. You have all the charm of a septic truck, the manners of a cannibal, and all the subtlety of a grenade. If boring were radioactive, you'd cause cancer in a mile radius. You have the absolute certainty that is only possible for children and lunatics, but you mistake your pig-headed arrogance for strength of character. You're dishonest, cowardly, aggressively, assertively and willfully ignorant. You're a contaminant. A mouse turd in the oatmeal. A roach in the ice cream.
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To say you are loathed by all good and generous people would be putting it too gently. After a minute of your company, Ghandi would stab you in the eye with a rusty screwdriver. The Dalai Lama would douse you with kerosene, set you ablaze, and kick you into traffic. The Virgin Mary would punch you in your pitiful, withered sack, spit on you, and shove you in front of a subway train.
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When you die, mercy grant it soon, the grave will vomit at the thought of holding you. Hell will not take your soul without an environmental impact study.
And that is the best I say of you, even if this were your eulogy - a service that would be useless since no speaker would be heard over the colossal sigh of relief welling up from the Earth that you, you misbegotten, reprobated, morally and spiritually deformed creature, no longer walk upon it.
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I have no doubt that your mother's first words upon seeing you were, “There is no God.”
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The evidence indicates that Satan uses her skull as a toilet.
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The two of them have spawned? Pity the unfortunate little hobgoblin. Darwin stands refuted.
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Pedophiles cross the street to avoid being seen with him.
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A face like an open grave, and all the charm of a corpse-worm.
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That is not an idea, it is a statue of an idea – it has the form, and the weight, but not the function.
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He does not have a brain. He has a festering lump of rancid organic goo that keeps his infantile, unfused skull plates from collapsing.
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He is not evil. Evil implies coherent thought. He is morally incompetent. Intellectually, he is a void – a singularity of stupidity that sucks ideas in and annihilates them in a cosmic, crushing nothingness.

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