Freakin' crap.
Sinners spreading the Gospel. (the Gasp-el, if I may say so)
Bullcrap dropping from the ceiling onto his face, but he is God, the wise, the all-knowing, the untouchable, stoic, at his slow confident pace, able to entangle you in his bullcrappy hands.
Full-of-crap.
I love crab. But not crap. Bubble crap. "Crap-defense"-bubble-bursting crap.
Crappier than Scrappy Doo, but at least Scrappy's supposed to BE crap. Not him, this All-that-crap-I-Doo-but-I-say-otherwise person. Shit him.
Save yourself. Be a little less crappy is my not-as-crappy-as-yours advice.
But, no, I changed my crappy mind, since you're so crappy I can't take it.
GO TO HELL. I'd like to meet your fuckingly fucked-up ego (eeek-go) there.
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