Beware my holiday wrath

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Aw, isn’t it just the cutest holiday of the year? The day where every man in America, if only for a second, thinks about taking a flamethrower to the house of their ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend. And where every female thinks, “S***, I guess I gotta give it up tonight just because he bought me a $2 card and took me out to eat at Applebees” (15th and Locust, now hiring!) Yep, I do love Valentine’s. Nothing like socially forced sentimentality to say, “I love you.”

I was at a dinner party a few weeks ago where I was quoted as saying, “I won’t stop hating Dick Cheney until the day he shoots a Republican lawyer in the face.” I’m at the Dollar General now, purchasing incense for my new shrine.

Hey Philadelphia Metro (We’re just like the USA Today, only s****ier), nice job posting Philly’s best quizzoes. I was surprised you didn’t include Gervase’s.

Hey Gervase. Seriously dude, it’s over. Just…I’m sorry, I really liked you in Survivor, but it’s over, dawg. Let it go.

Hey Muslims. Seriously, just calm the f*** down. You’re behaving like “Dwayne” in the 700 level when Ronde Barber returned that INT for a touchdown in the 2002 NFC championship game. Don’t you understand the concept of freedom of…wait, what? They burned down a McDonald’s? Carry on, then. Carry on.

Hey guys with girlfriends. You think you’re all hot s***, walking around town, holding hands and kissing and all. Well hey, you remember last week when your girlfriend ran out to “get some milk?” She wasn’t getting milk, brother. No, she was running her hands through the ol’ Bobby Badtimes permanent ($35 at the unisex salon in Upper Darby). To be the man, you gotta beat the man. Wooooooooo!

Hey figure skating. Look me in the eyes when I tell you this. YOU…F******…SUCK. The only thing that could make me watch figure skating is if they started releasing live bulls onto the ice during the programs. Angry, deadly, hungry bulls.

My name is Bobby Badtimes. Beware my holiday wrath!!!