You know who you are. Just where do you get off? Have you no brains at all? No respect for anyone else? No sense of humor? No courtesy? Yeah, you know if you’re the one I’m talking to. Yes, you do! You know how you are. Just because people are too polite to say anything doesn’t mean we’re not all thinking what a jerk you are. Do you really think we DON’T laugh at all your bone-headed utterances when you’re not around? Think again! Do you really believe people AREN’T pointing you out to one another as the one who spewed that thundering idiocy you pretend not to remember now? Well, WE ARE pointing at you when you can only see us out of the corner of your eye! Yes, you remember what you said, and when and how you said it, just as well as the rest of us, and we won’t EVER forget it. It’s merely common social graces, which you obviously lack the slightest notion of, that keep us from laughing in your face, or coming up and spitting on you.
Do you treat your coworkers the same way you treat the people on this board? Not that your “job” is conducive to friendships, even if anyone cared to alienate the rest of society by spending one more instant with you than necessary. Yeah, that’s right, I know where you work. We ALL do. If that somnolent maze-wandering with a crayon gripped in your monkeyish paw can really be called “work”. You were only given that job to keep you out of the way of the rest of us, and only a femtocephalic celery stalk like you would fail to realize it!
There is only one thing worse than you inflicting those pathetic, random, neural spasms of yours that pass for ideation on the rest of us. And that is your inflicting them on your poor mate. Here is someone who deserves so much better than you, and you know it, and we know it, and we know you know it! There goes a life that should have been lived in the sun with a beautiful, successful lover who worshipped the ground they walk on. And all they have is you, on those rare occassions when you rise out of your black cesspool of self-indulgence to notice their existence, you slimebag. And you know that sweet, wonderful sufferer could have had ANYONE. ANYONE! And still could.
Speaking of which, you look like hell, you hopeless bag of pudding. Go look in a mirror. Right Now! Just look at your greasy skin stretched like a slack drumskin over all that fat. And those toothpick limbs are just a reminder to us all of the weakness and mortality of human flesh in all its distortions. Jeesh! If the people around you have to pretend to respect you as a person, at least give us something to work with! We’re watching you, and we’re disgusted.
For the rest of you, who I’m not talking to here - and we know who we are - I’m sorry you had to hear my patience run out like this. I know we agreed not to confront this idiot openly, but I just couldn’t take anymore. I’ll see you all at the next meeting, you know where.
