You are Terribly Wrong

You are terribly wrong. And I just wanted you to know that. You are so terribly wrong that language cannot adequately frame your wrongness. Scientific nomenclature cannot rise to the challenge of writing your terrible wrongness as an equation. You could not be more terribly wrong. You are wronger, even, than the man who steps into the elevator shaft on the 86th floor because he is watching child porn on his Zune which features his own niece, whom he sold into crackhouse prostitution so that he might buy a football helmet (sold on EBAY with a totally fake COA) allegedly signed by an ex-NFL baller who was banned from the game for organizing illegal, pheromone-and-steroid spiked ferret fights-to-the-death. You are wronger than an Orca whale torturing a baby seal with Down's syndrome and several other severe complement deficiencies to death by allowing its Orca children to repeatedly chase it from ice floe to ice floe, killing it by taking slow bites of cuteness from its body. You are wronger than that Orca. That's not even one iota, one scintilla, of how terribly wrong you actually are. You are wronger than PBS, than SPIKE TV or OXYGEN, "television for vegetables." You know how terribly wrong you are, but you wear your wrongness like a badge of honor. Probably you would write "honour" instead of "honor," which once again proves how wrong you are. How terribly wrong and probably Canadian to boot. I cannot even start on your Canadianness. You are wronger than Woody Allen's next choice of girlfriend after Soon Yi has her cataracts, psychosis and suicidal self-loathing fixed by a deprogramming squad of crack scientists and doctors hired by nuns that populate the Sisters of Our Suffering Mia abbey. You only doubt how terribly wrong you are because you are so terribly wrong. You are wrong, Sir. You are terribly wrong, Madame. Do you take me for a Canadian that you flaunt your terrible wrongness in my face like this? Do you think I will not rouse to rightful indignation at your terrible wrongness? You are wrong as Gertrude Stein discussing the penis, FOX TV discussing art, Bill Moyers discussing anything. But I digress. Allow me to return to the true topic at hand, which is your terrible wrongness. Did I fail to mention that? Please excuse me while I go and get a drink, but I'll be right back because I think there's something I forgot to say. What could that be? Oh yeah. Right. Your terrible wrongness. Remind me to start there when I get back. Do you want anything? Because I'm only going to the refrigerator once.