Dearest Motherfuckers, You make my daily life possible and you sometimes make it misery. I am grateful. I am blessed. Young, bright, inventive, tolerant, understanding, flexible, ever-seeing, never sleeping, every last one of you, you keep my public image what it needs to be even in goddam fucking hard times like these latest days. But, and this is one huge, big buttfucking but, if one of you little twentysomething ratfuckers betrays your bought-and-still-not-fucking-paid-for post-collegiate education and puts that fucking goddam, and I mean Fucking Goddam, parmesan-infused Orville Fuckingbacher in the sonofabitching Sixth Floor microwave one more suck-and-fucking Friday, there will be unholy butthurt to pay. Count on it like the precious pennies I’m peeling from your pension check even as you speed-read to the next paragraph like the fan-fucking-tastic little monsters you are. Don’t even get me started on whatever little twat-drip keeps bringing that catshitty-smelling tuna salad into my olfactory range.
Audience choice: Fuck all of you, you fucking fucks.
(Or any variation of a sentence constructed with abundant variants of the word “fuck.” Wow, our mayor does not inspire the muse.)
Best of Chicago 2012