In a knock-‘em-down-and-stomp-‘em essay in the Daily Beast, horror novelist Stephen King minces no words, not even the four letter ones. For example, there’s this:
“I’ve known rich people, and why not, since I’m one of them? The majority would rather douse their dicks with lighter fluid, strike a match, and dance around singing “Disco Inferno” than pay one more cent in taxes to Uncle Sugar.”
But why should I quote snippets of King out of context when you can read the whole enraged, hard-hitting, spare-no-epithets piece in one delicious gulp.