What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know my house contains more than one front door, and I’ve been letting in Google interns this whole time, and I have over 300kg of cortisol and norepinephrine stored up. I am trained in farcical accusations and I’m the top beach person in the entire USA from coast to coast. You are nothing to me but just another manifestation of my sequelae. I will wipe you the fuck out with indelible precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this tiny little senate conference room, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of beach friends across the USA and your ping pong hallway activity is being traced right now so you better prepare for my psychokinetic storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your hippocampus. You’re fucking accused, kid. I can accuse you anywhere, anytime, and I can accuse you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my small team of three Clinton connected and Feinstein approved lawyers. Not only am I extensively trained in tactical cortisol and norepinephrine release, but I have access to the entire arsenal of GoFundMe campaign contributors and I will use them to their fullest extent to bring as many FBI investigations as I want down on you, you little shit. If only you could have known 40 years ago what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit indelible hippocampic sequelaeic fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking ACCUSED, kiddo.