Most of you I could probably kill with my bare hands. The rest would cower in fear as I raped the corpse of my fresh kill.

Mmmmmmmmm bloodlust hath hit me. I’m awesome like this. I would have made a kick ass Viking. All the other Vikings would have been like, “Daaaaayum.” as I raped and killed everything in sight. All the fine, fat-tittied Viking bitches would have wanted some of my Viking stump…and I would have thrown it to all of them too. I would rule hard.

You know what, I know updates to my blog have been like ultra slothish lately, but I don’t need you fuckers taking an insane amount of time out of your overly busy schedules to flood my inbox with comments and concerns about my topics, lack of updates or even how I may have toned things down.  Toned things down?  Are you serious.  Did I, somewhere in the last month, have a total lapse in concept and begin sympathizing with people?  And who the fuck says “toned down” anyways?  Here’s a real email I received from a reader:

“Servo1!! hey i read your blogs all the time and i think your awesome. but you have toned down your writing lately its like you have gotten soft.  write some more funny stuff!”

I’m going to be honest here.  Very, very honest, considering you were the one who wanted this bad enough to email me about it.  If you’re going to ask, beg or even suggest something, via email, be less of a hopeless chud and turn your spellchecker on.  If you’re a Firefox user(with their awesome fucking auto-spellcheck option) and you’re still fucking things up, pick up a brick and hit yourself across the cheek with it.

I’m tired of you poorly educated fuckstains thinking you have what it takes to write to me without any concern for your grammatical skillset.  Sure you spelled “there” right, but it must have expended most of your effort getting to that point to where you hadn’t the energy left to properly use the word.  Way to go dipshit, you’ve managed to look like an idiot yet again.  Your attempts at pointing out my failure have only cut your emo wrists that much deeper.  With traffic, asshole, not across it.

But you really don’t care.  It’s amazing how often you cunts have even managed to survive this long without a greater force striking you down.  Which just goes to show how many employers are getting fucked because they’re too lethargic to administer a spelling test prior to hiring.  I don’t care if you’re serving fucking burgers at McDonald’s, if you can’t spell burger or recognize the difference between “you’re” and “your”, then you’re not fit to work your job.

“You’re” and “Your” were one of the two major learning subjects of your childhood english assignments.  I bet every school on the fucking planet has at least 5 weeks dedicated strictly to the education of those two words and the “there, their, they’re” riffs as well.  I don’t know what’s so fucking hard to understand, they drilled this into your mind at a young age once already, but “you’re” means YOU ARE.  As in, YOU ARE(”you’re”) a piece of shit for making me point this out.

How fucking dumb do you have to be to screw that up?  You’re the type of person who spends their days being spoon fed answers to life, having your hand held and responding to nearly every question with the lifeless “Huh?” as your last line of defense against a smidgen of intelligence.  I’m not saying you’re stupid as fuck, I’m sure you have nail painting skills and excel in any conversation dealing with the last elimination on “America’s Next Top Model”.(as a side note, I’d like to thank Tyra Banks, UPN and The CW for giving me yet another reason to want to kill kittens)

If there were one iota of intelligible sound whistling it’s way from your email request, I might have been reluctant to write this blog.  Hell, I might have gone a little bit softer.  But you didn’t.  Go fucking figure.  And you know what else?  Everyone who reads my blog(s) can blame you and your stupid fucking questions as the reason why I haven’t updated since the election.  Here’s an example of how I work with meeting demands:

“Write something.” - I’ll take my time writing something, disappointing every reader I have, the insult you for demanding so much of me.  I don’t write my blog as a full-time job, this is a hobby, in spare time.  Get the point?

“Quit being so mean.” - This is the point where I dig up any and all information about the individual who stated such an announcement and rip them a new asshole…with a chainsaw…

“Yeah, well you’re a dickhead.” - Yeah, well, nobody told you to come here and read my shit.  You don’t like it?  Well here’s a short tutorial on how to leave: Alt + F4.  Still confused?  Write me an email asking for help.

“I love you.” - So does Jesus, but I don’t get that into old fictional novels, they bore me without gunfire, titties and dinosaurs equipped with nukes.

I’m really hoping that this blog has inspired the lesser of you to leave me the fuck alone, I don’t mind the emails, just the stupid fucking morons.  Get educated, fags.  If you have a problem, email me.

For those of you interested in whether or not I replied to such her email, I did.  The contents of the email were very short and simple, “update soon”.

I have a really low self-esteem, which is horrible considering how fucking awesome I am. I’m so awesome.  My awesome far exceeds anyone elses to the point where their awesome even makes my suckiness look awesome.

You’re probably sitting there wondering how a person like me could ever be so awesome.  Well it’s simple, just be me.  By being me, I’m unquestionably better than you without any contest.  And if you try to argue the fact, you’ll probably end up in shock or a coma from the overwhelming surprise that I am fucking awesome.

Let me feed you an example of how awesome I am.  Keep in mind this example isn’t the awesomest for fear that I might kill my readers with the unlimited power of my current awesome aura.

I was in McDonald’s this past evening, being awesome and kickass as usual.  I don’t usually eat McDonald’s fast food because it would embarrass my awesomeness and only make it try to be that much more awesome, I’d hate to show off.  But I was ordering their food because from time to time I like to self-induce diarrhea, it just proves my awesomeness even more.  You have to be awesome to be able to torture your GI tract without worry.

Anyways, whilst ordering one of the employees that I know, I guess you could consider him a friend but for the sake of the fact that he works at McDonald’s we’ll try to keep that on the down-low, comes up to me and starts some “how are you” conversation.  I tried to keep my awesome composure and make the small talk but apparently my awesomeness was really glowing and it attracted nearly half the employees to flock to my position and hover around me like freakishly smelly satellites o’ flesh.

At this point I now have 5 McDonald’s employees standing at attention, seduced by the sheer awesomeness I am compiled of, all staring and wondering how they too could be even a smidgen as awesome as me.  I didn’t have the heart to tell them that quitting their job would be the first step, but that’s how awesome I really am.  Tragic, isn’t it?

There are many other fine examples that would prove my awesomeness, but I’m so awesome I really don’t need to file proof to you.  The example shown before you was only to entertain, not to prove, for you already respect and honor my superiority on the awesomeness chain of command.  Please, don’t grovel, it’s only going to hurt your knees.