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Some insults burn. Others show up in a custom-tailored suit, light a match, and walk slowly away from the thermonuclear explosion that once was your body.
What you’re about to scroll through isn’t petty, it’s hatefully poetic.
Like if you mixed Walt Whitman with all the hate and malice they used to forge the One Ring.
Proceed with caution. And maybe an aloe vera sponsorship.
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