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| Mr. Anderson, your kind is a plague upon the Earth. You breed; you grow; you age; you die. | |
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| Your stinking corpses fill the ground and contaminate the water supply. You humans are stray boogers upon the clean, white shirt of life. | |
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| You are the dogshit stuck in the treads of a new shoe. You are the wind beneath my wings. I love you. | |
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