Fictional sky wizard aside, I find that I take pleasure in the mere fact that I know he isn’t alive anymore. Which I think is at least similar enough to your sentiment that I would argue it counts!

The level of dehumanization behind his fucking statement is so blatant and so obvious that it is enraging.

I am going to present something that the Always Sober Wife and I have discussed a few times recently:

Oh what the fuck is this madness.

<Hurries off to watch SNL clips of Hader spoofing Nightline.>

The giants with the mouths on their bellies were kinda cool, too.

And I bet the murderous little weasel thought that pubic tuft escaping his face made him look masculine and rugged.

You can take my hooch when I die of the hooch!

The guy behind all the 25 dollar WoW mounts should get a special visit if you’ve the time.

Hold on, folks:

Jim Norton, somewhere, is nodding in agreement with you.

Nothing like a bow tie and no soul in the eyes to get the motor running.

YOU KEEP THAT ASSHOLE MAHER AWAY FROM MY STAR TREK.

Yeah, that face pretty much announces the owner’s douchery at a thousand yards.

I watched a few minutes of that new doc on Netflix about Japan (title has Samurai in it?) and turned it off after four or five of the experts were fat anglo dudes with British accents.

I actively work with a woman who, on the regular, equates homosexuality with mental illness.

<Drinks thunderously in sad agreement.>

My cat gives me that face when she gets into my edibles.

Quantum Break is what happens when a bad movie, a mediocre TV show, and a budget Max Payne have a baby.

I hereby decree that all professional golfers, regardless of gender, shall be required to wear the mini-skirt upon the green.