We are marching on justgoto. We are nearing his home. He is the worst kind of person who could ever exist: ugly, ignorant, rude, shitty. We plan to punish him for his misdeeds and we plan to enjoy his suffering. He has laughed at the suffering of others, and we will laugh at the suffering of him. We hope his testicles are large (though we doubt it) so we call all partake in the drinking of the meat smoothie we make from them with the help of our blender. Moms can be crafty with foodstuffs, especially during the Great Depression.