The Toxic Avenger

ToxicSo I’ve got a disease, and it’s eating away at my muscular soul. It’s an obsession, getting in the way of my gubernatorial duties. Clouding my judgment. Fogging things up. Making a mess… I can’t stop thinking about her.

Her neuroses. Her incessant insecurity. Her whoring for attention. It’s fascinating. I have never before been in the presence of a creature so vile and nasty, with so little self-respect, whose sole purpose in life is to make other people notice her, no matter what the cost to herself.

There is a perverse thrill at the thought of getting tangled in her web of self-obsession, of trying to shoulder the radioactive baggage she carries around with her, of getting shipwrecked in the violent storms that rage in her fragile psyche. It’s not love. Not even close. It’s a challenge. And the thing in life I love more than tits and stogies is a good challenge.

But it’s more than that. It’s also about reaffirming my belief that there’s a good, happy person inside all of us, buried beneath the bullshitTM, waiting to get out. Most of us just need a helping hand from time to time. Some need a gubernatorial bratwurst. And I am more than willing to make that personal sacrifice and serve the greater good.

If I make it back alive, all I ask is to be remembered as the man-king who fixed Ann Coulter and made the world just that little bit more pleasant for the rest of us to live in.

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