You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag
of filth. As they say in Texas. I'll bet you couldn't pour piss out of
a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that
won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.
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,
a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a
revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.
You are a bleating foal, a
curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and
offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate,
blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling,
giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition
of what they had done.