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But if there is one guy I'd like to rapidly and repeatedly introduce to my knuckles it's "Little Dick" Trumka. Rarely in this life will any more eminently punchable sphincter have a mug so obviously made for stomping into pulp.

LMAO!! I immediately thought of you in this passage out of a book:

"I snapped the side of the rod across his jaw and laid the flesh open to the bone."

"I pounded his teeth back into his mouth with the end of the barrel ... and I took my own damn time about kicking him in the face. He smashed into the door and lay there bubbling. So I kicked him again and he stopped bubbling.'

-- Mickey Spillane’s book, The Big Kill, where ~~detective~~ FReeper ~~Mike Hammer~~ Gargantua slugs out a little [union] punk ~~with~~ named [Richard] "pig eyes" [Trumka]

I love Spillane. Spillane (Mike Hammer), Robert B. Parker (Spencer), and Lee Child (Jack Reacher) all make kicking scumbag ass so wonderfully glamorous and intellectually acceptable, probably due to the commendable moral certitude of the protagonists, and the inarguable vileness of the hematomaed bleeders.

Whenever one adroitly combines such disparate concepts as literature and gore, philosophy and viscera, it's a surefire recipé for a simply smashing success. Don't you agree? I know I shall... sha'n't I?

LMAO!!!

;^\