...the sounds of the serf population from the Burger King bathroom stall. All of your chatter means less than the scribbling on a carnival porta-potty wall, smeared in cumulative streaks of each and every one of your diarrhea. You all waste your days in the sewer while the real players and their families are celebrating good times. It's an honor to attend that event. Instead of aiming to win for your kids, instead of getting in the backyard with your kid and training, you air your stinky diarrhea here. P.U. you stink!
