This girl started it all. She was my first Arch Nemesis, a title to be held with high recognition. I'm not sure exactly how my hatred developed for her, but I think it had something to do with her having a hyphenated last name. I didn't need some random chick trying to step on my position and glory as the token hyphenated- last-named kid in high school. It's bad enough she had two last names like me, but her friends insisted on calling her "Sho-Jo," which really pissed me off. Rebecca, you have two names, embrace it, pride yourself on it, don't combine the two to make some amorphous blob of a name. That's just low class.

There are a plethora of other reasons why Rebecca is one of my Arch Nemeses. I'm sure everyone knows this type of person: in class, she would answer a question, without raising her hand, in that specific volume level so that if she said the wrong answer, no one would really notice, but if it was the correct answer she would whine "Hey, I said that!" Make a decisive choice you little piece of scum. You are worse than Switzerland in World War II.

Right about now you are probably wondering why the hell this rant is rainbow colored. Pisses you off, doesn't it? Well, Sho-Jo found it necessary to take all her notes in class with every god damn color of the rainbow, in order. I swear, I almost had a seizure each and every day watching her write. Pick one color and use it. Shit.

Now, many of you may be thinking why slush is one considered an arch nemesis of mine. Think about, it serves no purpose in life. It just messes up my shoes, it prevents me from wearing the shoes I want to wear, and its just a damn nuisance. Its not water, its not snow, it's just a worthless piece of nature.

Oh slush, how I loathe thee.

Where do I begin? I hate French people, I hate France, I hate anyone who speaks French. Hey Pierre, where do you get off thinking you are so badass? Germany smacked you up and made you its bitch in WW II. Consider yourself lucky that America saved you, otherwise you'd be speaking Deutsche and eating Wienerschnitzel with Adolf's grandchildren.

You aren't even a super power anymore for Christ's sake. You're just riding off the 200 year old coat tails of Napoleon's vertically challenged rage. When's the last time any of you smelly bastards did something worthwhile? Made some cheese? Made some croissants? Who the hell cares.

You will never catch me supporting France. Personally, I'd rather be labeled a Nazi than a Frenchman. "Je m'appelle Noah." God, that sounds like shit. If I ever mutter that phrase or anything else in French, the reason better be that I'm so doped up on tranquilizers and barbiturates that I don't know up from down. You suck France.

Show me anyone who is willing to tell me that kittens are cuter than puppies and I'll show you someone who is about to catch an old fashioned beatdown. It's painfully obvious: puppies are ten times better than kittens. My friends and I have gotten into many a drunken brawl with different guys who tried to argue that kittens are the cutest thing alive. And don't think I'd exclusively beat up guys either. If a woman ever came up to me and tried to claim that her kitten is cuter than a puppy, I'd slap her right then and there. I don't care about hitting a woman as long as its for the purpose of stopping "cute kitten propaganda." If she wants equality and the right to vote so badly, well then she's earned the right to get her ass equally kicked.

I can think of only one good use for a kitten: fertilizer.

So, you're against the war? Don't like how our country is handling foreign policy issues concerning rogue states? Here's an idea: move to France and take your whorish ideologies with you. I hope you realize that if you lived in Iraq and were protesting the government there, you'd be shot dead under Saddam's oppressive regime. No one cares about your marches or your rallies except for yourself. Given the liberal bias of most popular news outlets, you would think your "cause" would get more attention, but instead they only show you getting your asses handed to you by riot police.

I realize our glorious country allows freedom of speech, press, assembly and all that other good stuff, but in situations dealing with treasonous infidels like anti-war protestors, I believe they should be rounded up, hogtied, and publicly beaten with Red, White and Blue baseball bats.

Wake up San Francisco! Danny Tanner, from NBC's Full House, is the biggest douchebag in modern day television. Danny, let's take a moment and look at the type of household you raised your children in. It's bad enough their mother was dead, but you tried to compensate this loss by becoming an anal-overly-protective clean-freak father. Then, you invited your homoerotic childhood friend Ranger Joey Gladstone to come live with you, along with your exterminator brother-in-law, Uncle Jesse, who moonlighted as a self-proclaimed early 90s rock legend.

Danny, you are such a little bitch. You never swore, you never yelled at your kids, and whenever they screwed up royally you didn't even punish them! Check this classic case in point: When Stephanie drove Joey's brand new car through your kitchen window, you sat Stephanie down and told her that no matter what, you'll "never stop loving her." Jesus! You are such a pussy. Get some balls and beat the child! Uncle Jesse wouldn't have tolerated that crap! He would've promptly taken off his belt and beaten Stephanie something fierce, then without delay he would've made sweet sweet Greek love to his hot wife.

It's a shame we can't see what your kids are like today, however I've come up with a likely scenario: DJ has become an overwhelmingly obese woman, twice divorced with four children, who works as a toll collector for the California Highway Department. She previously dabbled in the semi-professional mud wrestling circuit before she blew out her knee in a 2-on-1 handicap match with a pair of Mexican midgets.

Stephanie continued to struggle with her persistent masculine tendencies until they were finally manifested her transformation into a full blown transsexual named Hank. She severed all connections with her immediate family and moved to Miami Beach where she later married U.S. Olympic softball MVP Lisa Fernandez.

And what about little cute Michelle? Well, as sad as it is, after high school Michelle signed with Hershey Highway Productions as a low budget porn star under the screen name Busty Peaches. She went on to have mediocre success in the industry with such films as You Got it Dude!, You're in Big Trouble Mister and Oh Nuts. The highlight of her career came when she received an Adult Video News nomination for her heralded performance in the ever popular Dr. Seuss interracial-orgy spin-off: One Chick, Two Dicks, White Flower, Black Power. Sadly, she didn't win the AVN and her life plummeted into a downward spiral filled with of drug abuse, bestiality and prostitution.

Everyone knows Uncle Jesse was the man. Danny, not only did you ruin the lives of your children, but you were just some dork who was probably banging Joey and his woodchuck puppet when the kids were at school.

By now, many of you must be aware of my Hamster Hot Air Balloon and Save Vincent pieces as well as the subsequent shit-storm that the animal loving world attempted to bring down on me (only to have them realize that, in the end, I am invincible).

Before this whole ordeal, I suppose I didn't have much of an opinion on the Animal Rights people other than the fact that they suffered from a slight chemical imbalance. However, I've now come to realize that my initial thoughts were completely wrong -- these people are absolutely psychotic. I wouldn't mind if they were rounded up, put on trains, and sent to concentration camps for extermination.

These dirty, hippie whackjobs hide behind the guise of "peace, love and happiness for all," when in reality they exhibit some serious violent tendencies. They would've rather seen me, a human being, "beaten publicly, thrown off the roof of a 10-story building, burned alive" or perhaps "shot in the face"* than have me harm a stupid hamster that cost $3.99.

Honestly, Fuck PETA, they're not worth my time anymore. I'd rather spend it drop-kicking kittens in the face.

* All of which were said to me in various emails and/or instant messages.

CeCe Boozer is a rotten whore and you heard it here first.

Carlos Boozer, formerly of my Cleveland Cavaliers, used to be my favorite NBA basketball player because he embodied everything I had come to respect in an athlete: hard working, humble, and supposedly, a dedication to the hometown crowd. However, all of that changed in the summer of 2004 when Carlos jumped ship for the Mormon empire of Salt Lake City and the gay-as-nuts Utah Jazz. What really irks me about this situation is that the Cavaliers had Boozer locked up for one more gauranteed season, but they released his contract to let him re-sign with us for a deal of better monetary value (he had made a verbal agreement with the Cavs to stay in Cleveland).

Anyways, I could go on and on and bitch about how Carlos is a deceitful two-bit scallywag, but that's been done before. Instead, I have come to the conclusion that Boozer was coerced to leave Cleveland by CeCe, the she-devil uber-cunt that he calls his wife.

Check out this snippet from a Sports Illustrated article that mentions her,

"[Boozer's wife CeCe] watches film with him, rebounds his practice shots and analyzes his play after games. Last summer she also sat in on every meeting during his controversial free-agent contract negotiations. When Boozer first spoke with Jazz owner Larry Miller, CeCe was on the conference call (as was Carlos's agent at the time, Rob Pelinka) and did, recalls Miller, "about a third of the talking."

So basically, CeCe's got Carlos so whipped that she's the one sporting the cock in the family. I'm pretty sure she is just a dominating beast, fueled by her desire for money and more or less owns Carlos like its 1790 and they're back on a Virginia plantation.

Your name is TOBY! (That was an allusion to the mini-series on slavery, "Roots"... go rent it)

ESPN basketball analyst Stephen A. Smith makes me want to donkey-punch my television.

In an attempt to further his journalism career, Smith has adopted a stage-persona as the stereotypical "angry Black man." His usage of street slang, ebonics and racially loaded terms is a sorry excuse for good reporting. He tries to come off as this badass muthafucka, but in reality he probably pees sitting down.

Granted he's following a largely black dominated sport, but nonetheless, I'm not fooled. Stephen, you're not hardcore and you're not a thug from the projects so quit the routine already. For shit's sake, I'm more black than he is.