I have a competition in me (a sadistic display)

I wish you the worst. I wish Webster to redefine the term based on the bad fortune you received per my condemnation. And I hope that God turns you into his own personal favorite joke, using you as a pincushion; a measure for what cruelty the human spirit can endure, before cracking and denying everything it once held sacred.

I hope once you've lost all hope and the final straw breaks your tender camel back, Satan sentences you to drag your broken, lifeless carcass across fiery hot desert sands that end where they began, in an infinite loop more tedious than a Winamp visual.

And in the end of what seems like an eternity atop another, God finally offers his hand in mercy, stating, "Well, my son, I may stop this suffering now, but you must watch Inglourious Basterds, District 9, Ponyo, and Pixar's Up! while sitting in between Carson Daly and Nancy Grace, listening to their commentary and banter. You must do this a mere one time each per movie, but you'll have to take notes, as you're their new unpaid intern."

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