Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back--in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.
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The refined punishments of the spiritual mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack.
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Oh lovely snowball, packed with care, Smack a head that's unaware! Then with freezing ice to spare, Melt and soak through underwear! Fly straight and true, hit hard and square! This, oh snowball, is my prayer.
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You know, evil comes in many forms, be it a man-eating cow or Joseph Stalin. But you can't let the package hide the pudding. Evil is just plain bad! You don't cotton to it! You gotta smack it on the nose with the rolled up newspaper of goodness! Bad dog! Bad dog!
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I was the originator of smack. Some guys rattle with smack with other guys it rolls right off their shoulders like nothing.
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Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltiness of time.
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