A day is coming, I’m confident, when the camo-colored rats marauding our streets will get what they deserve.

I know: That’s insulting to rats.

Bullies. Cowards. Terrorists. Unfuckables. Whatever. They’re going.

And when they’re gone: seven plagues of dysfunction upon their houses.

Disarmed and incapacitated, they’ll rage at their impotence. Their spouses and partners will abandon them. Their children will deny their existence. Whatever wages they can scrape together will be garnished and given to the innocents they kidnapped and abused. Hopefully, they’ll suffer long, and die alone, in the dark prisons of their own making.

And we will shit on their unmarked graves.

I don’t like starting the weekly Monday Night Foodball preview with this kind of fury, particularly because this is a

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