[Originally posted on October 9, 2004]
This is what I would say if I had the floor at a Jacques Chirac press conference.
[Drink Alert is in effect for the remainer of this post.]
JACQUES CHIRAC IS A TROLL AND MUST DIE!
Thou hast forsaken me! Mine hatred of thee is pure and all-consuming. Now thou shalt taste the wrath of a Viking unavenged!
Hither and yon, thine creamy center will squish with greater glee than a pair of over-cooked rice balls! Lo, the overly-shiney Tricycle of Death comes to cart thy soul to the Monkey House! I shalt smite thine grandmother's stockings with more force than a polyp-bottomed Hungarian goat-herd on Tuesday! Behold, mine Fists of Justice greet thy face with a dozen roses and an unceremonious root canal! I will pelt thee with little packets of unpronounceable imported cheese! I shall flatten thee until thou can be used to store mine stock portfolio. I shall frappe thine entrails and paint thee tombstone with glitter! I shall force thee to wear thine dog's ass for a feedbag. Ye just wait til mine fuzzy rubber chicken gets through with thee! Odin calls upon Loyal Citizens to rise up and wield your mightiest weapons of destruction against this evil pretender!
[By this time, I'm really pissed off. I really let him have it. I give him The Ultimate Insult]
[I'm just getting warmed up - I'm frothing at the mouth mad. I gulp down two of my famous Ultimate Martinis, and continue this troll-bashing]
You have the brain of a microcephalic lemur, transplanted into the rotting carcass of a common swine. You roll around in the puke of dogs, masturbating furiously. You emerge from your nest of flattened milk cartons each morning to toil until sundown emptying portable toilets. Like the shared bathroom of a dormitory, everyone urinates in this equal opportunity toilet. You are considered a cheap alternative to expensive crash test dummies. You are rewarded for years of faithful service with his very own bag of shiny things to play with, and a computer. Incoherent and sloppy, you waver in and out of consciousness while composing your responses. Skittish and awkward like a colt on coke, this autistic child prostitute hides behind the sympathy generated by the gastrointestinal disease that bears his name. You are characterized by the projectile expulsion of a curdlike, smelly discharge, forcing you to leave the keyboard every ten minutes for an enema. You are widely disliked, but never with any real intensity since you are so easily ignored. You are neither interesting nor noteworthy, an ongoing impression of tepid tapwater adopting whatever pose you feel would be most likely to appease your attackers so that you can meekly return to ignominy. You are irrational and weak-willed. This Flighty Balloo can write about little more than his unnatural obsession with oddly colored body fluids. A twenty year circus career as Willie the Shaved Monkey Boy made you especially vulnerable to narrative flame that references midgets, bananas and/or chloroform. You are a walking affront to the written word. Your sole saving grace is that You'll allow a 10% discount if you rent out his boyfriend to be passed around by the others when no other entertainment presents itself. In an attempt to make him seem more realistic, his puppeteer recently retrofitted him with some hints of personality. Still, judging by his range of expression you'd swear that the hand up his ass is Senor Wences. You are a tattooed truck driver with the manners and sophistication to go along with the look. You spend all of your time arguing that the past tense of 'blind' is 'blound.' You are as delicate and fragile as a snowflake, and about as tolerant of heat. After figuring out how to set up the presets in your car radio, you proclaimed yourself the best engineer in North Carolina and is probably correct. You are a small fish in a small pond. You have a momentary spasm of creativity once each month, about five days into your twelve-day period. Other than that, you are just bitching weakly about the hubbie and the dirty kitchen and the ten starving filthy children and the plugged up loo. You are easily filtered background noise. You are about as entertaining as a child's inflatable punching toy. You bop it, it springs back, you bop it again and you forget it ever existed. It slowly deflates in an unused corner, then one day you throw it away. Rumor has it you are almost incomprehensible in person (owing to your heavily accented and alchohol-slurred speech) and this combined with your being dirt poor and ugly makes you very uncomfortable with human interaction of any kind. You have therefore moved yourself far from the mainstream of human society, thereby earning its eternal gratitude.
[This is fun! I need a drink of The Ultimate Bloody Mary before I continue.]
It's Clobbering Time! I'm going to bruise you so utterly, you will drink poison and piss honey! I'm seriously going to contort you until your mom feels it in her womb! I'm going to clobber you into the stuff of nightmares! I'm going to flog you until the sun burns out! May your balls be conflagrated and defenstrated! I'm going to peel you apart like an overripe banana! Call me Pimp-Daddy, cause I'm gonna beat you like a bitch on payday. I'm going to strangle you with your own intestines. I'm going to touch myself, and by the Sock you're going to watch me! I'm going to sodomize you with an empty bottle of Jack lubed with Tabasco and Ben-Gay. I will flatten you until you can be used to store my stock portfolio. I will make animals out of your toenail clippings and train them to attack your chewy centers. I will rip you apart and funnel Trading Spaces designers directly into your nostrels. I'm gonna kick your ass and eat ALLLLL your grandma's Birthday cake. STABBY, STABBY, STABBY! MWAHAHAHA! I'm gonna castrate you with a dull, rusty, spoon! I'm going to punch you in such an inhumane manner, you will drink poison and piss honey! I will force you to wear your dog's ass for a feedbag. I shall frappe your entrails and paint your tombstone with glitter! RuPaul is a woman, tweak my nipples and remove my left eye if I'm wrong! Eat Yanni balls, you spineless bipedal orangutan turd!
[Actually, this is starting to wear me out a little bit. Better have The Ultimate Margarita before I blast him some more.]
I'm going to go Martha Stewart on your blasphemous ass! Have you ever been flayed by a spork? Prepare for your untimely demise, foolish mortal! I'll gauge out your eyes with a sodering iron and fuck your skull until you bleed to death. I'm gonna whip your ass til' your atoms split!. You just wait til my fuzzy rubber chicken gets through with you. If I weren't so hungry right now, you'd be SO beaten up! I'll train my gnomes to mash you up and turn you into honey! My hatred of you in pure and all-consuming. With God as my witness, I shan't be de-pants-ed again! I will strap you to a Canadian pony and rain on your parade! Under MY Constitution, your ass is GRASS! I'm going to strike a match on your crotch, and set you ablaze! Infidel! I unleash upon you seventeen rabid squirrels. May they eat you very, very slowly and with horrid table manners! Mua ha ha! You have insulted me. Please put down that table lamp and stand still so that I may pelt you with little packets of unpronounceable imported cheese! Shut your mouth, fucktard! Or I will lock you in a room I have specially prepared for you in my basement that is filled with goats that are extraordinarily gassy because I have fed them large buckets of pinto beans!
[Running out of breath and invective, I finish him off]
You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down the evolutionary chain at you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper. On a good day you are a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wall paper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofer sod. Bugger off pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit.You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup patting naff. You gob kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and wish you would go away. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well ... it didn't really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective ... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us normal people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would never have read your mail. It just wouldn't have been right. Sort of like parking in a handicapped space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.
[Sound of violent blows being dealt, things being smashed, awful crunching noises, bones being broken, and other bodily harm being inflicted. All of this accompanied by screaming sounds like a woman.]
Now, go away before I taunt you a second time!
[I bow, slowly turn and walk off the stage to the sound of a thunderous ovation.]
Sic Semper Tyrannus
The Bartender says: I would like to tell you that I made all this up, however, I believe in giving credit where credit is due. A hearty Thank You to all the Loyal Citizens at The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler for their most excellent invective and troll bashing skills!