It always amuses me how you kids can scribble down 3ish paragraphs ranting about my manners, but, yet, you're still repeating the 8th grade. I will say to you what I say to all the haters who continue to dodge death. You can elicit the center of my asshole.
Let me remove that self importance haze that shrouds your space, because, your email suggests that we are on the same level. Girl, you are not even in my field of vision. You were spawned when a pair of malformed losers crawled out of the abyss and vomited one super special little shit, who will become the biggest super special fungus to dredge the earth. I wonder where you gained such a misguided sense of balls? You must of hit the bong three times when you decided to come out of your cavern and try to attack the mother and father of all flamers. Monkeys look down at your ignorance.
Your existence is a constant reminder that the status quo exists. You probably hop out of your bed, take off your jammies and walk into an empty room where you stare at the walls until bed time. That is how innocuous your life is. Then, probably, your father strolls in with a look of utter dejection as he catches your mom, the twin-headed hydra writing "shoulda, coulda, woulda had an abortion" all over the dining room table. Finally, your brother is infinitely more successful than you. May your existence continue to bolster my existence and may mercy come to you very soon.