Let me tell you something, Chris Matthews… I detect the kind of glaring logical inconsistencies in your ‘reasoning’ that only botched frontal lobotomy patients with crisscrossed shoelace scars on their sloped foreheads are capable of making. If I want the advice of a retard, I’ll slap you on the back of the head and wake up that little peg legged hamster that operates the drool-powered waterwheel of thought in there. Until then, sit in the corner and wait until I either speak to you or spit at you. If brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t have enough to blow the kneecap off a flea. You are about as entertaining as a child’s inflatable punching toy. You bop it, it springs back, you bop it again and you forget it ever existed. It slowly deflates in an unused corner, then one day you throw it away. Any friend of yours is a lousy judge of character. Maybe you wouldn’t come across as such a jellyfish-sucking mental midget if you weren’t afflicted with mental retardation; or if you didn’t have a face that makes your pillow cry itself to sleep every night. No, come to think of it, you would.

I’m busy trying to imagine you with a personality. Maybe you’d be less boring once I got to know you, but I don’t want to take that chance. I’d get more pleasure from running my nostrils down a cactus than hearing another contribution from you. Maybe you wouldn’t read like such a pathetic loser if you weren’t so dense that light bends around you. I’d tell you to go screw yourself and the horse you rode in on, but looking at that stupid grin on your face, I’d say you already have.

There. I feel better now.

Mazztek on October 10, 2007 at 11:36 AM

Is that you, Dennis? :)

Nice smackdown…

eanax on October 10, 2007 at 12:41 PM