LLance-
Jumping shoeless Jesus on a hotplate! Are you sure that you're a man, you odious leach-covered blob of quivering slime? You don't even classify as homo sapien! It's good that you found another supercilious curmudgeon to marry you: let's just pray that you don't spawn. You have a face that only a mother could love - and even she hates it. I've seen people as fugly as you before, but I always had to pay admission. Your politics suck just like your mother does, you election-rigging, Bush-loving, warmongering fucktarded spawn of a rancid whore. You are quite intelligent...for a gerbil with Downs Syndrome. You're so short, you could do handstands and back flips under a table. I bet you need a ladder to pick up a dime. You could pole-vault with a matchstick, Sneezy. If you were ever kidnapped and eaten by a cannibal tribe, they'd all die of high cholesterol, you fat, flabby, fumbling fuck. I bet you have to order your clothes in three sizes: Extra Large, Jumbo, and Oh-My-God-It's-Coming-Towards-Us. You're an unemployable, lazy lout. If you got up with nothing to do all day, you'd go to bed with only half of it done. You couldn't get a job cleaning shit off a toilet, you utterly useless wrinkled balloon in a muddy puddle of goat's piss. It's amazing what you can do with a little imagination and a potato sack. I'd tell you to go fuck yourself and the horse you rode in on, but looking at that stupid grin on your face, I'd say you already have.
