In the immortal words of Genesis P-Orridge, who I literally bumped into at the Empty Bottle in Chicago in 2004 after being ogled by Ministry-alumnus Chris Connelly: fuck you.
To the little turd that attempted feebly to intimidate me into not releasing this book--fuck you. To the GOP, and everyone who voted for them--fuck you. To everyone who ever fancied themselves members of the Tea Party--fuck you.
And to all you ugly American motherfuckers who think whistleblowing is unpatriotic, all you racists, you liars, you criminal scumbag fucks--fuck you, forever. You were never alive. You're all husks. You will die, there will be no happy hunting grounds, no afterlife, only more death. What more could I do to you that you haven't already done to yourselves, your families, your neighbors?
You've made me fall in love with mortality to the point that when death comes, I'll shove my tongue hard down the fucker's throat, simply to be away from you, forever. Happy holidays!