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June 5, 2004
It does seem a day for calling down curses on those that doth vex us. And so the list of curses is as such:
The small curses. A curse upon
Unmuffled motorcycles at 2 AM. They should be made to suck their pipes.
Bureaucrats who manage mislabeled lines, correcting their clientele with smug unflinching indifference. They must be struck blind.
Medium curses. Such are the begotten fools who
Preening ex-high school goddesses, now untrained behind the wheel of their industrial strength vehicles, they assess navigation as a third place to cosmetics and conversation. A disfiguring injury seems most appropriate. Hopefully they can do it without causing harm to others, but it seems doubtful.
The hypocritical witness to faith, who by the force of their argument inflict discomfort and annoyance on those they seek to bring into their light. They should be stricken with both a massive hernia, and hiccups.
Large curses. The worst saved for the worst, who include
Book mangling families of immigrants who have set up their home in Barnes and Noble, the very same who curl the cover and break the spine of the only copy of that book in the store. Fingers snapped, eyes blurred, they should be sent home to their native lands as a lesson for others!
Trailer trash women who think they - with the taxpayer's help - can raise a family by themselves. In truth they are raising a mindless herd, fouling their nest so badly that it rolls out into the fields and valleys of more civilized folks. Their battle cry is both "gee you're a smooth talking fella" and "if at first you don't succeed, get pregnant again.!" Obvious sterilization is a good start, but their trailers should be hauled someplace outside the city limits... and welded shut with them and their kin inside.
Wow, that was therapeutical. Stories behind each of these of course. Your imagination is no doubt better than our telling...
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