Exploiting Your Fear, Mofo

I've tried very hard. Very, very hard. It's not easy to hit people you love with big pieces of lumber. But there's only one way I'm going to get through here. Let's rock:

Once upon a time there was a very scary preznitential candidate.

Life was, in many ways, perfectly happy and cool, but as so often happens, a wolf lurked in the fold.

Bad things happened. Fear was caused.

People got kinda wack, did some stuff they wouldn't usually do. Some really weak shit, actually.

In short, they panicked. They were total pussies, frankly.

They forgot about the real enemy because they were so focused on their own fear of one shrill, dumbass preznitential candidate. They even went so far as to dream she had them by the short and curlies. And, after a fashion and solely because of their pussyassed fears (ostensibly of the shrill dumbass, but really of fear itself), she almost did.

Then they ignored her and their pussyass fears and everything was fucking A cool like Fonzie, mofos.

Let's tell the story a slightly different way. There's a spooky myth that if you say a dead person's name in the bathroom mirror three times,

he'll appear behind you:

Stop saying her name and she'll go away. Just fucking be cool like Fonzie, would you, mofo?