Jeff, you are one of the most despicable pieces of shit ever.It is a wonder that the molecules that comprise your body don’t disorganize themselves out of sheer disgust for the lifeless, soul-sucking sack of crap embodied by their conglomeration.I hate you.I wish that all the most terrible things in the world would happen to you.

Jeff, I wish that your own father would rip your fingernails off with rusty pliers and watch, laughing and videotaping, as you defecate and vomit from the pain.

Then I wish that he would mix together your feces, vomit, and your mother’s period blood in a big vat and rub the gooey mixture between your fingers and toes, in the backs of your knees and elbows, in your crotch, in your armpits, around your neck and ears, and in the spaces between your eyes and eyelids, and then place you in a large room with many doors and beautiful, soft white carpeting.You will have to try all the doors, but every time you move your joints stick together and you are crippled by fear, pain, and the horrifying odor—which isn’t so bad in itself, but the realization of how grotesquely dirty you are and the horror and humiliation at the hands of your own father tortures your mind as you try each door one by one.You scream out in pain, desolate and alone.By the time you’ve tried every door and found them all locked, you’ve ruined the once beautiful carpet and you collapse, sobbing and cold and without hope.You pass out and wake up in your room.You have no fingernails, your room is covered in blood, feces, and vomit, and there is a video of you being tortured on youtube that people find hilarious because they don’t believe it’s real: in fact, nobody believes your story despite all this, pretending to treat you like a normal person and completely disregarding your obviously mangled body and psyche.You spend the rest of your life unable to trust anyone, but you can’t kill yourself because you don’t have the guts or the ability to use your fingers.And you can’t get rid of the smell.

Jeff, I wish that in your first job on your first day of work your boss forces you to organize the office March Madness pool, but because you know nothing about basketball, you accidentally make it a women’s NCAA pool.Your new co-workers hate you for this and pull a series of pranks culminating with your clothes being stolen after you are tricked into using the office’s mildewy shower, which later on gives you the flu.You decide you can’t make it in the business world and take a series of odd jobs, hoping that by some coincidence or stroke of luck you’ll be able to do anything with your life.It doesn’t work, and broke and desperate you compete on an episode of Fear Factor.You make it to the final round after bathing in a mixture of vomit, feces, and period blood (de ja vu?) in the first round and then sucking the pus out of a blister on Dick Cheney’s nipple in the second.In the third round have to have sex with your own mother, but you lose because you can’t come as quickly as the next guy, because you have the flu.

Jeff, I wish that every time you take a trip by plane, your airplane is delayed several hours and you have nothing to read or watch while you sit in the airport.Then you get on the plane and it doesn’t take off for another hour due to technical problems, but they’re out of drinks and snacks.And when you go through customs on the way out they steal your stuff and hit you.

Jeff, I wish that you could travel back in time to elementary school and have jocks spit on you again.And just like the first time, you have to sit there and take it as they pick you last in kickball, steal your French fries, and bend the wheels on your bike.But this time, the jocks bribe the administration, and their science projects win the science fair prizes even though yours is obviously the best, depriving you of your one small satisfaction in life.Later on, when you wake up without fingernails and covered in feces, vomit, and period blood and see yourself tortured in front of millions of people on the internet, that one polished, elegant trophy that brightened up the room is gone.

Jeff, I wish that you fall in love with a fairly attractive but insecure and manipulative woman who terrorizes you with threats of dumping you.You never get to have sex and she constantly berates you for insisting that it was your own father who tore off your fingernails and for losing on Fear Factor.Finally she does leave you, and her sickly younger brother finds the courage to tell that in fact he’s in love with you and he believes your stories.You are overjoyed that someone finally appreciates and believes you, but you actually aren’t gay.He doesn’t understand and, dejected, hangs himself.

Finally Jeff, I wish that you die after a very long life spent without hope, joy, any kind of effect on a world that surely will not remember you.And after death, you go to hell and are forced to watch movies over and over again for eternity.It turns out the entire film library in hell is comprised of “Snow Dogs” and “License to Wed.”