carl rove is a bald headed low-life

That thinks he's the cleaver beaver-the master chess player (more like checkers), ok, this one--hold on to your hate (opps, I meant to say hat, my bad), fucker. You've got my Irish up--watch what happens when I get my Irish up. Think you can save your boy, willy boy--think again you fat, deformed looking silly fucker--you look like an aborted abortion, with your misshaped head.

I best 'real men' 20 times your make on a daily basis--you have no idea who you're fucking with you little weasel, rat fucker, I'd use your mouth for my toilet. It could use a good cleaning out. God, are you going to be in a state of shock REAL SOON--did I ever tell you I once played Bobby Fisher to a draw, oh, he claimed to have been otherwise [mentally] occupied. I was in my early teens at the time. Pay attention, carl boy, there is going to be a pop quiz afterwards. Some things hide in plain sight.

Mistress Lee