It’s truly absurd, as well as depressing and asinine, to see a collection of pseudo-sentients pretending to exist as persons and pretending to wish one another “Merry Christmas”. You do NOT wish me, or anyone else, “Merry Christmas”. You are defective, vicious, incoherent imitations of persons, stuck in some ridiculous cosmic groove like a broken record, until such time as — thank heavens! — you are all destroyed. That day cannot come too soon, and I cannot think of a better GENUINE Christmas present than waking up on December 25 to find this planet depopulated of the verminous, robotic travesties of human beings who attempt to pass themselves off as human beings. If I were to wake up on that day (or any other) to find myself alone (apparently, as well as actually) I would jump for joy. I cannot begin to live until you vermin stop ruining my life. My Christmas wish is death to you all, and (for the corporeals) may it be violent, as you deserve.
From the cafe at ChessGames (probably been removed by now). You can’t deny that ‘stuck in some ridiculous cosmic groove like a broken record’ has a lovely poetic quality to it.