Let this be public record: STGRB, I want you to come after me. I would like nothing more than for you to attempt to end my career. In fact, I've been waiting for you. I'm growing bored. I want to test the meddle of your throngs of sock-puppets and minions. I wish and hope and pray that you will follow through. I doubt you have the guts, though. So, bring down your hammer of "justice" upon wittle ol' Edward Lorn. I've dealt with your kind my entire life, and if I have to face you on my own, believe that I will.
You are, the lot of you, entitled cowards bereft of conscious. You are the sickness plaguing the world, the GIMME GIMME CROWD. You fight with the very people who pay your bills, like a fast food cashier with a superiority complex. You're no better than an eye-rolling teenager who hasn't gotten there way. "Sob, sob, pout, pout, nobody loves me."
So rock my socks. Give me what for! Destroy my reputation and kill my lowly career. You don't have the balls or ovaries large enough, do you? The sorriest thing about this entire clusterfuck is that you've become the very word that you toss around so flippantly: Bullies. Well, pumpkins, I've been faced with my share of real bullies, face to face bullies, and if there's one thing you all have in common, it's this: When called on your nonsense, you run and hide, or you dig through the mud to find those that will stand behind you because you're too weak-minded and timid to even breathe without someone there to hold your hand. Because, after all, you're all simply overgrown children.
Or, in language you can understand: Eat a bag of dicks.