Dear Crista Leigh, the "Rock Goddess..."

You fucking suck. You literally, utterly, and wholly suck. I hate you, and I don't even know you. Why do I hate you, you ask? Let's start off with my morning. My ears enjoy receiving the musings, shenanigans and other such tomfoolery as Free Beer and Hot Wings put on. I don't exactly mind listening to the traffic or the weather, in fact it's somewhat helpful. Then, I consider reaching for my toothbrush and sharpening it into a shank. I would use this shank to tear apart my ear drums and make it so I don't have to hear what's coming next. A less masochistic approach would work too, although I don't feel like going to the garage for a sledge hammer in a towel. Instead, I suffer you. I suffer your horrible, nasally, drawn-out voice of absolute aural pain. Do you have a fucking speech impediment? What the fuck is, "It's CRISTAAA LEIIIGH the RAWWKK GODDESS?" You sound like a retarded valley girl swallowed a squeaky toy.

And how the fuck are you a xxROCK GODDESSxx? None of us from this generation understand rock. We were not around to bang our heads to Maiden or Metallica in their glory days. You are not, never were, nor will you ever be a rock goddess. A rock goddess is Janis Joplin. You are a stupid radio personality. And here's what's wrong with your Facebook picture- You look like you just walked "out da hood." Please go gargle with bleach, razorblades or something that will ruin your voice beyond recognition. Oh wait, that's over and done with. Become a mute nun.

-Because I can.