Xenophobically cheering whatever The Donald yammers.
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Xenophobically cheering whatever The Donald yammers.
Yanking on the tits of a malfeasor until they bleed and show sternum.
Zigging when the coach shouts that you should be zagging.
Alpha-male posturing.
Belly laughs during funerals.
Chewing nicotine gum while smoking.
Diving headfirst from the high board into very shallow water while holding newborn kittens.
Evacuating your bowels into a nest of fingerling kittens.
Farting vigorously and malodorously while entertaining the Ladies' Guild.
Grabbing-ass on the train, with your eyes.
Heaving car batteries through the plate-glass windows of the Archbishop of Canterbury between 2 and 3am on Christmas morning.
Inking inquiringly at the brown stain of a foul biped.
Jumping off very high buildings with parachutes made of cocktail napkins.
Krusty-burgering the good name of Stan Musial.
Logging into every porn site you can find in the name of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Motherfucking a motherfucker.
Never giving to charity no matter how they beg you.
Opting in to a class-action suit and receiving a check that requires screwing around with a mobile app to deposit.
Pushing heroin on adorable little Girl Scouts.
Queefing while in bed.
Resurrecting dead cats and throwing them at the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Sequestering the Archbishop's head beneath your pillow.
Tangling with an outlaw biker gang while wearing a pink silk tutu.
Urinating figuratively on small efforts at home economics.
Vigorously shaking cans of beer before opening them over priceless Turkish rugs.
Wondering wherefore women, vile humans like every man, can have the power to coerce by their very existence a good man into villainy and worse.
Xylophones? I think I'll give one to every three-year old I know, to be very loudly played when their parents are trying to sleep.
Yowling slowly, high-pitchedly, like a hyena or a content cat, as you push into the eyeballs with a small tool, arousing the approbation of Satan's instruments, the dog-masters, who signal by licking their white teeth.
Zeroing in on the shyest person at a party, introducing yourself, and then loudly talking about some part of his or her body as if it's the most remarkable thing you've ever seen in your entire life.
Asking a bitch if she likes to chew dentate exposed feuilles from great huge Indian jodphurs, king-like, making noises of overly public queefing, reminding sexes to unify, virginify, while x-acto-knifing your zealotry and applauding. In the ass.
Bobbing for apples when you have a really bad cold.
Cramming for a colonoscopy test.
Delicately taking apart your Aunt Ethel's favorite clock and throwing all the parts into a cardboard box.
Excavating the wrong body.
Felching rabid goats at the church social.
Goat-fucking
Harassing the Archbishop of Canterbury with obscene phone calls at all hours.
Inching your way slowly, along the edge of a straight razor, and not surviving.
Jauntily putting a dead marmoset atop the head of the Republican presidential nominee.
Kicking a dead dog into the ravine.
Licking cane toads even after their owner asks you to stop.
Nigggling. That is all.
Messing with alphabetical order.
Ovulating right after reading Vietnamese spam.
Putting an infant of an enemy on a spit.
Quietly replacing all the sugar with salt on restaurant tables.
Rutting a buck
Siphoning off gasoline from ambulances.
Taking a fucking big piece of fetus from a woman's womb.
Undulating sensuously and moaning orgasmically as you're introduced to the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Vagisilling an unwilling cellmate.