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What's that? You're selling cookies/candy/raffles/ornaments/prizes/trinkets so little Johnny and Sarah Jane can waste an afternoon at Disneyland? Sure I'll take some candy -- so long as I can smash it in your motherfucking face and retrieve it from your crusty rectum. This is an office where I do important work -- not a goddamn bazaar to peddle the wares of your snotnosed offspring.I don't care how smart you think your kids are. No, your children aren't geniuses. You'll be lucky if your brats move out of your hovel at age 30 -- after they've climbed the ladder to success making change at a gas station.You love your children? Good -- tell it to someone who gives a shit.Keep your motherfucking brats out of movie theaters and restaurants. Seriously, no one wants the living incarnation of your seed disturbing our shows and meals, spreading viruses and bacteria with every goddamn thing they touch. You need a night out? Fine -- hire someone else's fucking brat to watch yours, you cheap piece of filth.No, I don't want to pay more in taxes to send your pathetic pieces of dopeshit to school. Oh, you want "more resources"? Better "facilities"? Better student-teacher "ratios"? Well la-de-fucking-da: why don't you FUCKING PAY FOR IT. If you're not catching my drift, let me make it clear: I don't want to throw my money away educating your third-rate douchebag of a kid so he or she can wash my car on the weekend. You gave birth to it, you pay for it.Your children are our future? Fuck the future, fuck your kids, and fuck you.