Yo Vinnie,
You're like the biggest closeted fucking faggot I've ever seen. You've got classic short dumb fuck complex...talking about how all you ever do is fuck or fight. Well, let me tell you something, you illiterate troglodyte cunt, not a whit of your pathetic "tough guy talk" does a thing to disguise your obvious yearning for a big, fat cock rammed up your ass. Oh, but you love double-teaming, right, I forgot...so make that one shoved up your ass, and the other DEEP down your throat, so you're gagging on it. "What's that you say? mmmmmppppppphhhhhhhhh! I can't hear you!!!"

Go do some more steroids, you hateful piece of shit. -- Raven (by email)

"IF I DRINK SOME MORE OF YOUR URINE, WILL YOU LIKE ME THEN?"

Dear RAVEN, YOU HORRIBLE, DESICCATED CUNT: It's sad, isn't it? It's sad when your most salient personal feature or attribute is limited to your doddering ability to mumble gurgled words of pleasure around my extremely unhapp-enis. When your only ally is the fact that you aren't rushing even faster toward a time-trapped future wherein no one will love you, care about you or even want to fuck your withered ass. When your only successful conversations always end up, "can I blow you again?"

Yes, yes, it's sad. That all the hipster affectations, the slut cum vampire schtick, the sexy-girl-on-the-go stuff will wonderfully and anachronistically mock you as you wheel your 1982 Volvo to the farmer's market to buy a few oranges that will eat alone, or with a husband that secretly loathes you, and wonder where it all went.

Well, wonder no more. We are humanitarians down here and as much as we'd like to see you suffer we can't bring ourselves to deprive you, especially as it is in our power to give, of that which will renew your life's sense of purpose, meaning, direction. Namely: our loads. Whenever you're down and out and lonely, like NOW for instance, we'll gladly lend you a load to cry on. There, there, dry your load-laden eyes. It'll be OK. When no one else cares we'll be there. Hating you with a laser-like intensity more blinding than any kind of love.

You can count on us.

Cunt.