I've Never Been So Accurately Insulted In All My Life

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I've Never Been So Accurately Insulted In All My Life

Well, you crossed the line, that's for sure. I've been insulted before, but until today, I'd never been attacked with such appalling accuracy. I cannot believe you had the gall to unleash that torrent of utterly valid criticisms. Vicious, founded attacks like yours cut deeper than any knife.

I've had some low-down snakes spit their venom at me before, but they were usually such overdone and unwarranted insults that no one could take them seriously. But you, sir! How dare you look me in the eye and see through me to the deeply flawed person I actually am, let alone sling your poisoned barbs with such precision?

So I tell lies. Okay, you got me. But is that any reason to call me "a dirty liar"? If that's what you think of me–and you should–at least have the decency not to rub my face in the awful truth of it all. Just call me a liar, then storm out and slam the door. For the love of God, don't point out two contradictory statements I made and then ask me, in front of everybody, to somehow reconcile them. That kind of smear tactic gives me no chance to avoid being justly branded a liar. I really thought you were above that.

And my weight! The way you ripped into my weight! I mean, I've heard untoward quips about my slightly above-average girth before, but they usually take the form of grade-school-caliber "wide load" jokes that are so exaggerated that they barely draw blood. You, on the other hand, deftly and realistically characterized my body type as "pear-shaped" and suggested that I lose "30 to 35 pounds." Furthermore, you only brought up my weight to point out my hypocrisy in judging others by their looks. You didn't cop any attitude that being fat is automatically bad, as I invariably do; you simply pointed out my double-standard, exposing me for the obese, hypocritical little toad that I am.

But the capper on the jug, the slight I shall never forget to my dying day, was when you called me immature, painting me as "an emotional infant incapable of interacting with others in a deep or meaningful way." Again, drawing on what you have actually observed rather than ad hominem attacks, you used my patterns of behavior to draw a cohesive portrait of a needy, self-centered man forever wallowing in his own tiny universe of grudges and misplaced blame. You have destroyed–and impressed–me with your masterful insight into my psyche.

I mean, my God. Anyone can insult a person, but you tore me apart with an informed, well-reasoned line of argument! You sliced me to helpless ribbons, the English language your scalpel! Could I really have angered you that greatly? I'm just glad my wife and children weren't here to see my considerable faults laid bare.

How could you, sir? Why would you want to do such a thing? I know why. I bet it's because you fuck donkeys or something, you big donkey-fucker.