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You Gave a Bad Review To the Wrong Etsy Seller, Motherfucker

“Overall, a huge disappointment and not worth the money or hassle”

You know what those are? Those are your last words, asshole.

Yeah. You, Mister One-Star. Maybe you’d have done better to keep that mouth of yours shut, because you, my friend, have made a very powerful enemy.

Did you not think that your vicious slander against my good name would go unnoticed? Like a coward, you hid behind an anonymous review, but rest assured, it was but a minor detour until I uncovered your true identity, you pathetic piece of shit. Now, the shoe is on the other foot you despicable maggot and that shoe shall crush you like the worthless insect that you are.

Perhaps you mistook me for some kind of spineless cuck? I can understand how you would make that mistake. Well, despite my involvement in the digital, artisanal knick-knack industry, I am not some candy-ass motherfucker who is going to let a regional sales manager disparage my good name and reputation.

Word of advice, tough guy: you probably don’t want to fuck with a man who has your name, address, credit card info, and nothing to lose. If you think flaming you on Twitter was bad, just wait until you get a load of what else I have in store for you. Those days of me calling you a pedophile via various anonymous Twitter accounts will seem like a goddamned beach vacation, you can bet on that.

Think I won’t follow through and that this is all just empty threats? Guess again.

I’m an Etsy seller, motherfucker. I’ve got nothing but time on my hand and a lot of frustrated creativity to come up with new ways to make you my bitch.

You said some pretty bad things about something I’ve poured my entire heart and soul into. Things that we both know are flat out lies. Did you think I was just going to take this insult to my life and livelihood sitting down? What kind of man would I be if I did that? How could I look my wife in the eyes as we made love or raise my children knowing that you’re out there, acting as though your shit doesn’t stink?

No, no, my friend. Satisfaction must be, shall, and will be mine.