"Don't tell me to shut the fuck up, you filthy

"Don't tell me to shut the fuck up, you filthy dirty hippie! I'm goddamn Bill O'Reilly, so piss off and go get trippy!" Well, how was I supposed to react to such abuse? I had to

show the handsome but angry man in the mirror that he could never out-angry me. I am Bill O'Reilly, after all. "Are you a communist? Or do you just hate America? I bet you

eat FRENCH fries you communist sympathizing bastard! O'Reilly flagellated himself brutally with a cat-o-nine-tails and then admired his own handiwork in the mirror. He noticed

some flesh still on his ribs, so he whipped himself some more. Then he tightened the razor-chain around his white thigh. O'Reilly hissed. This pain would purify him.

10 minutes later he changed his mind about what he was doing to himself. He was not only torturing his body, but his self-esteem was shot to hell. O'Reilly could kiss his own fat

rolls. In a fit of excitement O'Reilly yelled "I love my body!" before taking off all his clothes and skipping merrily down the to beachside. O'Reilly felt acceptance when people

on the cosmos, the universe, and everything that was and will be. Just hearing people tell him what he meant to them was enough to make him burn brightly like the sun. Literally.

Nuclear fusion man was happy. "I'm so joyous I'm so happy!" he sang, clapping his bright flaming nuclear hands. He burned his fans to a cinder. "Being a star is no fun" he grumble

d."Hang on to your rest mass." said Nuclear Fission Man. "At least people don't call you Fat Man and complain when your daughter nuclides overstay their welcome."