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I knew I'd get under your skin. Bad spelling always is the last resort, and made-up words are always the lamest sort of Deadspin-style bait, but, eventually, even somebody smitten with their own cleverness gets caught in the web of a random rogue ombudsman.

Sam is playing you, and you are expertly being played. Dick Nenton ought to pay the guy at least $13 a post for capturing the subsversely sublime spirit of what was once Deadspin.

Vent, sonny. Vent! And realize, Yoko, that nobody is following you. Unless they want to fuck you up for personifying stupidity.

In other news, New Jersey launches a massive campaign to wake Sean Newell the fuck up. Night-shift, dude: Use it or lose it.

Yoko: Trilogy "is." Must be tough to speak English when it's not only your first language, but your only language.

Yoko: Before you name-check ancient cities, learn how to fucking spell them.

Aw, don't go, Yoko! You're such an easily insulted idiot!

Wait: Important question about your blow-up doll wife and your self-consciously badass avatar: Are you the twat with the tats, the tank-top, or the breasts?

Ah. A child molester accidentally confesses while trying to vent. Go directly to jail.

Sean

Again, Yoko, there is no content to your criticism. Just name-calling and girly talking. Show some substance, Yoko. Unless you're just a fake poster fronting for the poseurs who run Gizmo.