The Jerk Who Knew He Was a Jerk

I mean, what do you expect? I was dropped multiple times on my head as a baby, but I stood up and chewed off my parents' legs and drooled in their nostrils. In school I told the teacher who left fake poop on her chair, but it wasn't John Smith, it was really me because I really had to go. Her apple had a worm in it anyway which looked at me funny. At work I steal office supplies and sell them to terrorists who want to deliver irate letters to newspaper editors, along with packets of you-may-already-be-dead-contagions. I was born a jerk; you know it, I know it, the whole world knows it. That's what makes America great. I'm a moron and all you can do is wait several days to purchase a handgun to plug me full of bottomless pits, while I already have one loaded in my holster, which is covered in glued-on silver stars, just in case I need to make you see the black hole of my revolving chamber.