Michael Hirtes (or Why Abortion Is A Blessing)

[ale...@hotmail.com]

In a quick assessment of the life accomplishments of our dear friend Michael
"I love to look at naked animals" Hirtes, we can see a true example of why
there is so much of a lean toward suicide in the ranks of anyone having the
misfortune of being in his family. You are not familiar with the smarmy
little twat in question? Well, Let us shed some light on the subject for you,
shall we?

Michael Hirtes publishes a creepy little publication called "Furplay". "What
is it?" I hear you ask. Well, in a world already full of numerous fetishes,
"Furplay" seeks to broaden the boundaries of the perverse. Simply put, it is
a collection of drawings of personified animals engaged in all sorts of sexal
activities. Sound sick? Well, let us examine the kind of person do you think
would be responsible for such a truly heinous publication.

In a dark room, lit only by the phosphorescent glow of a computer monitor, you
will find a sad, hunch-backed creature with a Yogi Bear comic book in one hand
and his tiny, ill-developed penis in the other, scanning away. If you examine
the man (and I use the term in its broadest possible sense, for as we all
know, God created man in his own image, so it would be a damned shame for all
of the religious if God looked anything like that) more closely, you will
immediately recognize the sloping forehead and low brow line associated with
Australiopithicus (and I apologize to any Australiopithicenes out there as
well). It is readily apparent that someone pissed in the gene pool on the day
of his conception. I only hope that his birth parents were mercifully given
another family's baby as substitute, and that Michael was raised by a mother
addicted to heroin, and a father who would beat him senseless every night just
for being a miscreant. It is obvious though that, whatever the environment in
his childhood, he formed a "special" relationship with animals early on.

In a world already plagued by drugs, alcoholism, disease, and WebTV, we must
realize that there is no place on Earth for such a waste of perfectly good
carbon atoms. Perhaps a retroactive abortion would be a welcomed solution to
the problem at hand. Or maybe he will get anthrax from fulfilling one of his
fantasies with a sheep. Whatever the case, we can only hope that he does come
to a slow and lingering painful death within the next few months. Should
there
actually be a God out there, I am sure that he would agree and send down a
tailor made strain of influenza to wipe out the offending pissant.

Thank you for your time.

--
The preceding was a paid advertisement. Any similarities
to any persons, living or dead, is purely due to their own
ignorance.

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