Don't Insult My Mother, You Troublesome Wench.

This post is in response to poster lizee89 on my mother's blog, Bad Mommy. Due to that site's retarded commenting system, the message got garbled. Here it is in full.

Well. Let's see here, where to begin? I have so much to say, it's actually quite the conundrum.
Wait.
I know the perfect way to start this off!


Dear Miserable Uppity Twat,

Hi. You might know me as "Kid #1." Let me tell you a bit about myself, before I begin the pointless (but ever so satisfying) name-calling and insults.
I am 19 years old. I attend a decent 2-year college, where I get pretty damn good grades. I'm not addicted to anything, I haven't knocked anyone up, and I am happy to say that I am totally free of any criminal record. I play instruments. I am sociable. I have a group of close friends from all social strata and economic backgrounds. I am reasonably accepting of other people, and their viewpoints. Though I'm sometimes stubborn, I admit when people have better ideas than me, or can do something better than me.

I am a bit of an underachiever, sometimes. I can be lazy. I get nearly orgasmic joy from pissing off idiots and ignorant douches (which is why I'm absolutely loving this).

One time, when I was in 3rd grade, I stole a stamp from another student's desk, and when I was afraid of getting caught, planted it on someone else, who promptly took the fall. Rather than being ashamed, I was sort of proud, and still kind of am.

I once forged my mother's signature, so she wouldn't find out I had poor grades. The resulting punishment could be considered biblical, and are still whispered of in the back-alleys of Everett.

Now I ask you: did a bad mother raise me? Does it look like I was raised poorly? Does it appear she ever neglected me to go score crack, or beat me with a belt for spilling her beer? Does it seem like she ever put me down for not being good enough? Or made me feel bad about myself? No, she didn't. She was, and is, an excellent mother. I take after her in nearly every way. We often joke that I'm basically her, with different naughty bits. An insult to her is an insult to me. So maybe that will explain why I'm about to get a bit irate up in here.

You listen to me, you asinine crotch-stain of a human being. You have not only insulted my mother, but because you impugned her motherhood skills, you also insulted both of my sisters, and myself. That alone merits you a special verbal assault, and my utmost wish that you be taken into the back lot and shot. No, not shot. Held down and filled with wasps. No, fuck that, still not heinous enough. You should be effectively keel hauled by a semi-truck over 20 miles of razor wire and lemon juice, the end of which is a dive into a carcinogenic vat of excrement and irradiated Nutella. And then set on fire.

My personal wishes aside, you have proven yourself to be a person of dubious intellect, despite your profuse statements to the contrary. It's been said already, but what the hell, it bears repeating. You know not what the fuck you speaketh of, vile trollop. Oh, you work with kids? That makes you an expert? An inbred dicksneeze with the IQ of an autistic goldfish (which I'm not sure you aren't) can work with kids, and so long as they haven't molested any of them in the past 3 months, can continue to do so indefinitely. Hell, they're even legally allowed to draw opinions! Working with children and being a parent are two entirely different animals. I'm barely 19, and even I know that, how moronic and ignorant must that make you?

Now, I know you didn't know this, but HeyJoelle happens to be Communications major. Trixie is a writer. Fuck, even I get paid to write, and you chose to come here and spew what I can only call dim-witted assfuckery, the like of which has not been seen in aeons. More importantly, you have the audacity to do it while treating the English language like your own personal Frankenstein's Monster. I can imagine more eloquent writing out of blocks of fucking cheese. That's right, a cube of Monterey Jack has a better shot of creating something worth reading than you. That doesn't even make logical sense, yet somehow I believe it. Then you dare accuse professionals of not recognizing the god-like genius of your piecemeal sentence structure and infantile grammar? What, you're such a good writer, you get to shit on paper and call it prose? Fuck you, you slovenly, illiterate whore.

Well, I've said all I have to say. I've let it all out. It felt good. Thank you for that chance.

Now insult my mother again, and I will find your real name, steal all your passwords, and fill your Facebook with so much goat porn you crash Brazil's entire digital infrastructure every time you log on. And I can do it, too. Try me.

Cunt.

:)