Somebody Call the Waaaahmbulance

I recently read this post that is simultaneously breathtaking in its criticism of Father and in that its author is likely an adult who sucessfully progressed through this country's education system.

Unfortunately there seemed to be an error with the website, because it is only accepting posts that agree with the author's perspective and dissenting comments don't seem to be getting through. My only guess is that my comment, pasted below, was so logistically sound and beautifully composed that it literally melted the server. Either that or Jets fans are panicked cowards who cannot suffer the indignity of having a genius-toddler strike so surgically at their inflated sense of self importance. That may stem from the fact that Jets fans routinely boo their own draft picks. Assclowns. I digress, here is my comment in full:

It's OK. Let it out. Your deep self loathing is nothing to be ashamed of. But it is necessary for me to show you the true source of your misery can only be found from within your franchise - Mo Lewis in particular. The Jets are responsible for the rise of Father - who sprung from the ashes like a Phoenix, leading a group of men into NFL lore and the arms of greater destiny. Also lucrative endorsement deals and hot chicks.

However baseless, cowardly, and willfully ignorant your logic is, please know that I still wish us to be friends. My compassion knows no bounds, as I am genetic perfection living among you. I would like to invite you to join my playgroup, because the baby that whines, screams, cries and shits himself constantly has moved. I think you could take his place immediately.

You may need a Kleenex to wipe the tears from your eyes before reading anything else today. It's like if someone had taken the works of Tolstoy, Dickens, and the guy who wrote Goosebumps, and distilled them down to an elixir of words that soothes your heart, mind and soul.

Growth Note: My tongue is pinker than your first cotton candy at the old town fair.