"Your jokes aren't just unfunny, they're like a bootleg version of a terrible song—they violate copyright law on taste and belong in a dusty bargain bin next to a CD-ROM of clip art. Every punchline you offer is a participation trophy for a thought that never even showed up to the event. You're like a human-shaped placeholder, a beige splash on a tie-dyed shirt. My mind actually goes on pause when you start speaking, as if buffering a thought that never arrives. The real crime isn't your comedy, it's that a perfectly good alphabet was wasted on your sentences."