antoniodeste

Sorry, I don't know.

of pippe?

Mom is right because she doesn’t want you to fool yourself, given your well-known problems. Listen, be a good boy, go to mom and tell her to take you to the doctor because you have a lot of pain in your little head: but inside your little head. You really need it and she will understand because, unfortunately, she knows what kind of son she has and that’s why she’s been praying the rosary for ages now; even if you still haven’t understood; just to change things up.

You know, worm, targeting you is easy for me. You think your miserable filth costs you nothing and goes unpunished, and I, since no one pays attention to you anyway, enjoy writing freely in my spare time about what I think of a mentally unstable and useless nincompoop like you. Forget about petitions. With people like you, forced therapy with a psychiatrist would be the least they could do. And then, what comments are you talking about, living scrotum? You’re not capable of commenting. Only, and I repeat, systematically being a pain in the ass. A big, huge, gigantic, uncontrollable Pain-in-the-Ass. As long as you keep dispensing your crap periodically, I'll come back at my convenience to tell you what I think of your periodic and pathetic nonsense. I hope you’re pleased with the result you’re getting, as obtuse as you are; assuming you’re even aware of it, and I have serious doubts about that.

Moreover, I care less than zero about what you "desire."

The only thing you should seriously wish for is your mental health. And not just you. Moreover, I've never read any comments from you. Yours are not comments. They are just free bullshit, often in very bad taste, perfectly useless and methodically aimed at personal ridicule. You’re really just a worm, there's no denying it. You don't give a fuck about music, that's clear. If you went to bore someone else, you would do a favor to a bunch of people who couldn't care less about your pathetic rants.

Idiot-trout: Yes, yours. And as usual, that one stinks too.

Trout-idiot: I leave everything to you; otherwise, you’ll just start whining. I know you’re used to it and I don’t want to take away even a gram of all the pleasure. If you can’t manage, a stash in the fridge for the dark times will help you get by. Provided public hygiene doesn’t storm into your cave first and manage to get rid of you for good.

Trout-idiot: yes, and you with the mallets as the minister of dysfunction from pain-in-the-ass.

Trout: Look, Karin Steger, that's you. You don't remember a thing, poor fool. But we have to endure her every time she vomits her troubles, convinced that we care.