You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. You couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions printed on the heel. You are a canker, an open wound. I would rather kiss a lawyer than to be seen with you. You took your last vacation in the islets of langerhans. 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, and a weasel. I take that back; you are a festering pustule on a weasel’s rump. Your life is a monument of stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, an overflowing latrine, a big suck on a sour lemon. I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, less than nothing. Go eat shit and die.