You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As we say in Texas, you couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions primed on the heel. You are a canker, an open wound. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. You took your last vacation in the Islets of Langerhans. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. I take that back; you are a festering pustule on a weasel's rump. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. You are a technicolor yawn. And did I mention that you smell? You are a squeaking rat, a mistake of nature and a heavy-metal bagpipe player. You were not born. You were hatched into an unwilling world that rejects the likes of you. You didn't crawl out of a normal egg, either, but rather a mutant maggot egg rejected by an evil scientist as being below his low standards. Your alleged parents abandoned you at birth and then died of shame in recognition of what they had done to an unsuspecting world. They were a bit late. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it ever so much more rapidly. If cluelessness were crude oil, your scalp would be crawling with caribou. You are a thick-headed trog. I have seen skeet with more sense than you have. You are a few bricks short of a full load, a few cards short of a full deck, a few bytes short of a full core dump, and a few chromosomes short of a full human. Worse than that, you top-post. God created houseflies, cockroaches, maggots, mosquitos, fleas, ticks, slugs, leeches, and intestinal parasites, then he lowered his standards and made you. I take it back; God didn't make you. You are Satan's spawn. You are Evil beyond comprehension, half-living in the slough of despair. You are the entropy which will claim us all. You are a green-nostriled, crossed eyed, hairy-livered, goisher kopf, inbred trout-defiler. You make Ebola look good. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are not ANSI compliant and your markup doesn't validate. You have a couple of address lines shorted together. You should be promoted to Engineering Manager. Do you really expect your delusional and incoherent ramblings to be read? Everyone plonked you long ago. Do you fantasize that your tantrums and conniption fits could possibly be worth the $0.000000001 worth of electricity used to send them? Your life is one big W.O.M.B.A.T., and your future doesn't look promising either. We need to trace your bloodline and terminate all siblings and cousins in order to cleanse humanity of your polluted genes. The good news is that no normal human would ever mate with you, so we won't have to go into the sewers in search of your git. You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a loathsome disease, a drooling inbred cross-eyed . You make Quakers shout and strike Pentecostals silent. You have a version 1.0 mind in a version 6.13 world. Your mother had to tie a pork chop around your neck just to get your under the porch and bites you. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking half-twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You bloody churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You jetere steatopygous pilgarlick hircine whigmaleerious rhadamanthine lintlicker. I refer you to the reply given in the case of Arkell v. Pressdram. You are so clueless that if you dressed in a clue skin, doused yourself in clue musk, and did the clue dance in the middle of a field of horny clues at the height of clue mating season, you still would not have a clue. If you were a movie you would be a double feature; _Battlefield_Earth_ and _Moron_Movies_II_. You would be out of focus. You are a fiend and a sniveling coward, and you have bad breath. You are the unholy spawn of a bandy-legged hobo and a syphilitic camel. You wear strangely mismatched clothing with oddly placed stains. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just knowing that you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. You are jetsam who dreams of becoming flotsam. You won't make it. I beg for sweet death to come and remove me from a world which became unbearable when the bioterrorists designed you. It is hard to believe how incredibly stupid you are. Stupid as a stone that the other stones make fun of.