Look out motherfuckers, I'm grabbing a rifle and climbing a tower!

The BBQ Pit
1

To anyone here that can’t control little Scooter Jr. in public:

First of all, and before I begin this grand mal brain-fucking of the apocalypse, I just wanted to thank you all for coming in and give a mighty, crotch-shaking fuck you! shout out to each and every one of you. I admit freely that nothing would give me greater pleasure than to command a battalion of diseased Girl Scouts in ripping duct tape from your genitals and beating you to death with your frozen, shit-stained undies. And I hope that your Hell is filled with sights and sounds and wonders that could only be described in abstract, puke-inducing parlance that outlines mind-fuck scenarios not unlike you witnessing recovering crack addicted Garbage Pail Kids performing full cavity searches on McDonald’s employees after a twelve hour shift of burger flipping and scab snatching–Oh, and somewhere in there you get piston fisted by a gorilla with a hand full of bukkake and a hunch that in your colon there grows a bushel of nanners.

To the police, who blow through stop signs and speed when there’s no emergency:

Eat hot murder, you hypocrite mother fucker!

To anyone here that can’t shut the fuck up for two hours in a movie theater:

You pus-sucking self-centered, witless, worthless, taint-licking shit maggot! If only your mother had taken five seconds away from her daily grind of watching The Price is Right reruns and hackneyed soap operas (a half-eaten bologna sandwich resting under one of her saggy tits), then perhaps she could have back-handed the ever-lovin’ shit out of you and followed it up with a little admonition about shutting your fucking trap in a movie theater. But nooooo, instead she chose to catch up on her back issues of The Weekly World News, her lips moving with the text, and occasionally burping up a little mail man spunk. So now I have to listen to your idiot running faux-Truffaut fucking commentary or watch with burning hatred while you yank it to manga pix on your cell phone. But fuck it, you know, because even if the manager would take a moment away from ‘puttin’ the moves’ on the school girl skank behind the concession counter–with the cold sore and the tramp stamp on her ass–long enough to shine a flashlight on your pathetic little yang and tell you,

“If you’d give it a rest, Slappy, it wouldn’t always be so fuckin’ red.”

He’d certainly not even dare to cast the beam toward the gang initiation golden shower taking place in the front row, would he, you vacant-headed suck bag? So think about all of that while you reside in the hell I created for you, an eternity of feeding your grandmother bacon while she takes a bath, fuck stick.

To all you fuckers in traffic… every. fuck. one of you:

I could fucking kill you. You are the worst of the bunch because you destroy lives. You don’t understand the fundamental dynamics of manning an automobile because you spent too many years not getting your head all the way inside the vehicle before slamming the door on it, so now I’m asphalt-surfing Highway 17 on my motorcycle like fucking Duane Allman with a bad thyroid, while you apply cake batter to your face in the rear view mirror to hide the bruises you got from your boyfriend, who beat you like a fucking pinata after you freaked out on him for calling out your younger, hotter sister’s name during sex (the one that works the concession stand at the movie theater). What the hell? You always wanted a man just like daddy, right? The strong, silent type with more boundary issues than South Texas after dark, but why piss on me? Jesus Fucking Christ fisting a three-balled Himalayan Yak, how about put the fucking eyeliner down and man the fucking ship, Captain Cum Guzzler!

And if it isn’t this low rent, Mary fucking Kay strumpet who has to make certain she colors between the crows feet, even if she can’t drive between two simple fucking white lines, it’s the rest of you self-important me-monkeys who can’t drive from the house to the convenience store without whipping out your cell phones like some coked-up Jack Bauer, initiating a fucking call to someone, anyone, but your own God damned thoughts! What’s going on in that shit melon rolling around on your shoulders that you can’t bear to be left alone with your own thoughts? Or is it that your head is just emptier than a crib at Britney Spears’s house?

Five years ago you were a complete fucking technophobe, now all of a sudden you’re fucking Agent 86?!

PUT. THE FUCKING. PHONE. DOWN, you pickled hag! Nobody gives a rancid cheese fuck that your nine year-old got her period, and you’re on your way to the store to pick up a box of Cotex. Wait four more years, until she’s pregnant. Then you can make all the mascara-running, woe-is-me calls you want, like the shit bag, worthless cum dumpster of a mother that you are!

To the neighbor down the street that thinks my yard is a toilet for your dog:

Fuck you!

2

Avoid towers - people generally look up when they hear a shot, also not many escape routes from towers.

“Kotex”, not “Cotex”

3

Do you feel better now? I’m not trying to be condescending. I’ve been thinking about The Pit a lot lately, and I’m wondering if people that vent their frustrations feel better because of the catharsis involved, or if,on the other hand, expressing this anger results in an increased sensitivity and thus ensuing tendency to become an angrier person.

Dont answer if you dont want to. I’ll probably start a thread on it. Excellent rant btw.

4

Okay, how on earth DO you come up with such varied and inventive cursing? I’m constantly amazed by the depth of vitriol embodied in the colorful language here in the Pit, but you really take it to new heights, towers notwithstanding.

I bow to your creativity!

5

Nice summary of the pit, Euthanasiast.

6

Mama T
You don’t have the SDMB Surly Theasaurus? Not available in stores, $19.95 US, not shipped to Canada.

7

I’m not sure I have ever heard such a creative use of language. I mean, “fisting a three-balled Himalayan Yak”? :smiley:

Thank you for making me laugh my ass off!

8

Is it wrong that this: The strong, silent type with more boundary issues than South Texas after dark, but why piss on me? made me LOLz?

9

Good point. Sit in a well and fire your rifle from there. No one looks down when they hear a gunshot.

10

Yeah, but as a spreading terror move, its kinda weak, targets of opportunity being severely limited, might be six months or more before they find out you’re terrorizing them.

11

Y’know, I understand that we all want to be THE KILLER when it comes to the Pit’s most eloquent and ascerbic posts of all time.

But… :rolleyes:

Fucken errant E’s yannow??

12

Don’t PMS with Texas?

13

Whilst feeling that the OP was a tad…vitriolic, I do rate the following highly as a potential bumper sticker:

14

This is like the Chirstmas morning in the Pit…unwrapping the best gift of venomous hostility!

15

That was just a thing of beauty. A better start to the morning than my espresso. I was going to start a thread about the assholes in the Gainesville PD, perhaps extend it to a generalized rant about the most fucked up state in the union, but even my worst vitriol seems somehow anemic compared to this.

16

Thank you for that. I share your rage on all counts.

But this

made me laugh out loud.

17

I’m sensing a little anger, Euthanasiast, is something bothering you?

18

I know…I love these.

19

Could I get you a cup of tea?
Sorry you had a bad day. I don’t understand the whole cell phone thing, either-who are all these people talking to? Must you maintain contact at all times? Baffles me.

20

You had me at the title and user name combo.