What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little ho? I'll have you know I have reigned at the top of Pop, and I've been involved in numerous costume changes on stage, and I have over 300 confirmed wigs. I am trained in elephant riding and I'm the top bitch in the entire world of music. You are nothing to me but just another sequin. I will have you sewn into my new headdress with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in person, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to an icon over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my people at Mackie’s office. Your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare to sparkle, faggot. The beading will replace the pathetic little thing you call your life. You dun’ goofed, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can do the same tired hooker dance for over seven hundred years, and I will never stop touring. Not only am I lip syncing more and more, but I will leave my dancers to the see you off while I sneak out the back door to the Met Gala and I will use it to its full extent to and do a thirty minute set with three costumes, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution prevented attendees from filming, we are about to bring the end 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 eat babies all over you and you will drown in baby blood. You're fucking dead, kiddo. Do you believe in life after Cher? No, because I will never fucking die.