CALL HIM WHAT HE IS

A Bottom-feeding, scum-sucking LOSER.  Don’t give him a name; and for God's sake don’t, as I heard one official call him, DON’T CALL HIM A GENTLEMAN. My off-the-cuff theory, based on initial information (his age; and a young gal of foreign descent):

He was SUCH a loser, he couldn’t even hang on to a mail-order bride. So he figured if he went out in a blaze of glory, she’d be sorry.

No one is safe from these idiots who probably have toilet paper hanging from their pants all the time, but we CAN change that.

We celebrate these warped, pimple-picking sickos by talking about their lives in interview after interview. As with all things it will be difficult the first time we finally stand together and scream,

“DON’T TELL US HIS NAME!”

All we’re doing is planting a seed in whatever disease-riddled mass lies inside ANOTHER toe-cheese snacker's,  Make Me Great cap.

I’m no longer considering attending the Austin City Limits celebrations this month because of this. Not that I’m scared of terrorists; I’m scared of the next idiot who’ll want to top the “Number One Worst Mass Shooter” list.  NO-LIFERS who know they’ll be in the news, at least for a time.

I suggest news organizations launch Send Us Your Worst Name contests. It might help prevent a future tragedy if someone knows they’ll be called the most vile names and simply embarrass themselves.

So come on, folks; I’ll even turn my Moderation control OFF and you can see your words immediately. Something involving hemorrhoids perhaps. But be warned, if this gets too raunchy I'm turning it back ON. After all, we want their Mothers to be able to read.

END THESE NIGHTMARES before someone YOU love is hurt.

God Bless Us, every one!