Fuck you

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Fuck you. There are several reasons why this is the case. Debate continues as to which of these reasons is the most significant; however, scientists are in general agreement that all you motherfuckers are gonna pay.

1 Reasons that this is the case
2 Conclusion
3 See Also

[edit] Reasons that this is the case

[edit] You've been biting my style.

You know how you chewed holes in your sweater to stick your thumbs through? Well, fuck you. I did that first, motherfucker. I'm the one who made that cool. And now, when I go to the clubs, all the the bitches are all like, "Wow, you look just like that one guy!" Well, you know what? I am that one guy, motherfucker. You're the one biting my style. So fuck you.

[edit] Your rejoinders are occasionally incorrect.

Don't deny it. I was there when Joe said "What's up?", and you replied, "Pretty good!" Do you have any idea how lame that made you sound? Rest assured that next time I hear you make a similar error, I will belittle you until you can't stand up straight for a week. That's right: fuck you.

[edit] You mistakenly asserted that Las Vegas is the capital of Nevada.

Jesus Christ, everyone knows the capital of Nevada is... well, it's not Las Vegas. Where were you in tenth grade? Probably off licking some hobo's armpit for hentai money. Well, you know what? Fuck you.

[edit] Your bench press is pathetic.

90 pounds? My ten-year-old sister can put up 90 pounds. And I don't buy your excuse about that being 80% of your body weight. You're a skinny fuck, but you ain't that skinny. In conclusion, you helium-huffing motherfucker: fuck you.

[edit] You're always sucking out on the river.

What kind of asshole bets a jack high with three spades - and after I clearly picked up my ace, no less? Oh, wait, what's this? Spade on the turn. Of course. And... another spade on the river. Jesus Christ. You fucking asshole. You probably think you're being cool when you hit fifteen against a five and don't bust, too. You probably think the whole table just wants to take you out to dinner. Actually, the table's thinking what I'm thinking: Fuck you.