Fear the Third Deich

You ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥♥♥. You ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ big fat piece of chewed up ♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ bubble gum. I really should find out where you live just so I can seduce your fat ♥♥♥♥ of a mother and make you a little brother, and when your brother is growing up I'll feed him lies about how you beat women and ♥♥♥♥ horses, just so you have a little brother that will always look at you as being a sick sack of sub human filth. Here's a tip, ♥♥♥♥♥♥: just kill yourself. Seriously if you weren't alive right now, I would be able to look at the world as being ninety-percent less awful. You are the definition of an ingrate, and you deserve to have your balls cut slowly with a butter knife until your testes are exposed so a high priest of ♥♥♥♥♥♥ magic can jerk off and ♥♥♥♥ in your scrotum. I hope every single terrible thing happens to you and nobody else. You have shown yourself to be nothing more than a pseudo-witty ♥♥♥♥♥♥ and I hope all of your loved ones realize that and leave you. It would put a big fat ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ smile on my face if I heard someone peeled your skin off like the potato you will inevitably create if you ever have offspring, because let's not forget just how genetically deficient you are. Kill yourself. Not for me, not for you, but for humanity. Spare mother nature the slow and painful natural selection and get your pathetic neanderthal ass out of the gene pool before you sew your seed into some poor sand ♥♥♥♥♥♥ woman that later will, no doubt, give birth to a ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ almost as horrendously retarded as you are.