A Heartfelt Composition - On Vulgarities and Malapropistic Connotations

Dear Heyspace,

Here to say I think its pretty offensive how offended people get. I mean, damn, mirror neurons be damned, I get offended by the faces they make when they get offended, and the great offensive is hot in live broadcast ground coverage right from the affront! Imagine I'm your girlfriend and I salaciously say I want to fuck you. Yeah, you, fuck you. Pretty rude, right, what did you ever do to deserve that kind of verbal abuse? Well, if your love language is physical touch, or sex, then I could really be saying I love you. Yeah, you, love you. So sweet, ain't it, like a May flower~ and the Mayflower was full of Pilgrims, who came and fucked on everyone who was hanging around until everyone was dead and sequestered in total desolation, and a lot of them didn't survive the winter, neither. So what's to say of love and war, I don't know, I haven't read Tolstoy or whatever. But in all games of love and war there is war in love and love in war. Amphipathy, violent love in the ass, and out mouth, sometimes from the mouth, usually asinine, but always so passionate, ain't it, good old boys and their pin-up-girls named Daisy sweet as May flowers, to keep them warm of heart in the cold nights on the front. The greatest affront to all passion is halting short, and trust me, us women know this pretty well, its why they sell OTC lidocaine at Duane Reade. But lets not forget how much of a game it all is, and try to facilitate some good foreplay, because trust me, us women know this pretty well, words alone can get us pretty hot. And the most illustrious military strategists do tend to make decisive plays in the war room, you know. Yeah, words get me hot, to be honest, you know, and I know they get you pretty hot too, once more into the breach. Cause man fuck! Spineless coward! What is your major malfunction, private? Do you need some Viagra for that limp dick comportment? Didn't your momma tell you where the fuck West Point was, or did she just lead your sorry ass by a string tied to a rubber-band triple knotted round your cock?! Its worms like you that make me wanna put on my stampin boots. Heel spur spangle shakedown boots, black suede steel-toe, and fuck me you look hungry, yeah, my phrenological sixth-sense tells me you're one of them degenerate foot fetishist, and little Debbie's got a snack for you. But in all seriousness all drill sergeants are just weapon factories, like the testes, to be honest, you know. And love is war! And fertilization is like the atom bomb if it operated by nuclear fusion, and the zygote payload just has the damnest fallout doesn't it? Human fallout, Human ransom, P.O.W. of pussy out wastin. And love is war! And both are such dreadful, enticing games, aren't they your favorite? Oppenheimer was a chronic masturbator suffering from the worlds most radioactive case of semen retention mankind has ever seen, at that.