I was reading the Ice Crown Tribune.
Apparently, the Young Republican Scourge Minions voted me The Most Hated Ret Pally again—that’s three seasons in a row. Give me a break. There are dozens of silly ret pallies running all over the place. Why me?
I'm a compassionate, kind soul. I don’t just go mowing them scourges down in blind fury. I always try to talk to them first. I approach them with loving eyes and the carebear libram held close to my chest, but they all talk like Galertruby and won’t listen to me.
Hello brother goul. I’m Crusader Jong.
Gahhl galha Garrrahhalagh!
Wait! I’m just here to share the good news. Have you heard the good news?
Aglhha gahllragl gllah aghhrla!
Jesus loves you.
Then he gets all up in my face and messes up my hair. I swear, if he knew how much I pay for haircuts, he would never try that shit. When you mess with Vidal Sassoon's proudest moment that is my hair, you’re messing with my emotions. What choice do I have but to bust your head open and then proceed to decimate the entire field of anything that can't enunciate its words?
I'm not a bully. I'm just misunderstood.