Buy yourself a really nice office chair. One with all the finest touches, you know? Something you could die in and be happy with. One that makes you feel like you’re flying, not sitting.
After you acquire the chair, find the right computer for you. Do your research because it’s a big investment. After you’ve found one that fits and has all the bells and whistles you require, purchase it and set it up in your home.
Make this computer room your own private domicile with any accommodation you need to make it a fortress of solitude that only you will see the true pleasure in. Shape it to be your own private heaven. Then, when all of this is complete and nirvana is nearly yours (so close your bones feel lighter and the air carries a scent of joy) I want you to turn into tHE FUCKING TERMINATOR AND FIND COOLER AND RIP HIS GODDAMN JAW OFF AND FORCE IT DOWN HIS THROAT AND OUT OF HIS ASS PERFORMING THE WORLD’S FIRST AND ONLY ORALLY STARTED PROSTATE EXAM.
vinniemassimino said: I would stuff one of his puppets in his butt and not allow him to defecate ever again. Slowly, the tension would build and build, and he would internally hemorrhage from all of the poo, and then he would explode and say, "Cut.. it.. out."
Yes! This is exactly what I want to hear. More poo!
Wait outside his front door all night. He goes for a morning jog to try and sweat out the shame (it doesn’t work). Keep an eye on the time and whenever he leaves, right when his door closes and he locks it, run him over with a fucking truck.
Wait outside of Cooler’s excrement-coated abode and figure out what time he leaves every afternoon to sell drugs to children. Follow him to the schoolyard or playground area to solidify the location as his selling grounds.
When you know the place you can wait for him the next time he decides to go ruin society. Purchase a spool of fishing line and some razor blades the night before the attack. Feed your cat lots and lots of water then have it piss in a bowl. While the cat is urinating, cut off about seven feet of fishing line, and then attach the razor blades to the fishing line about five or six inches apart from one another. When this is complete and the cat has finished, soak the razor blade fishing line over night (he is allergic to feline urine as you know from season four of Full House, so this is the only way the razor blades will pierce his abnormally thick hide).
The next morning after the concoction has soaked over night, tie a slip knot with the razor wire. Run over to the playground and pay the children in sexual favors (or whatever spare change you got on you) and tell them to lure him near the closest tree. Climb said tree and lie in waiting. When Mr. Coulier makes his gleeful appearance with his Peyote in hand, lower the loop of cat-piss-razor-wire around his scrawny neck and yank upwards, lifting him from the ground until his feeble head is separated from his withering body. Leave the evidence behind because cat piss is impossible to trace and let the children have the Peyote but tell them no more after this.
Stalk the local super markets until you finally come across Dave buying his weekly supply of Pampers. (He puts them on his feet when he mows the yard because he has an irrational fear of sweaty feet)
When you see him examining the diapers, on all fours like the dog he is, run up quickly behind him and ram your entire forearm into his ass through the pants.
After his anus has reached the bend in your elbow, use your other arm (the non-predominate one) to spin him around violently in almost a ballerina-esque fashion.
Once the inertia is stopped and friction has taken it’s course, lower him down and boot him off your arm simultaneously disemboweling him. Let those around you be witnesses to inform the world of your doings and to finally send the message that you have cut it out for good.
Late one night when The Cooler has passed out after his marathon run of In the Heat of the Night is over, sneak quietly into his bedroom via the window that he leaves open.
(It is a well known fact that he leaves it ajar nightly in hopes that his on-air lover Candace Cameron “D.J. Tanner” will return to him and rejoice in the heat of his loins.)
Once you’ve made it inside his room, move delicately across the bedroom floor dodging any cheesedoodles and potato crisps scattered about until you make it to his bedside. There, standing over his almost lifeless body, you will make your move. Pace yourself and monitor the pattern that his mouth opens and closes while he “breathes”. Then, when the moment is right, slam your fist tightly in his mouth and close his nose with the other hand.
When he awakens from all of the brutal confusion, scream “THIS IS FOR MARY KATE. THIS IS FOR THE SUMMER OF ‘87.” The shock in his eyes will let you know that he knows what is happening. He’s paying for what he did then, with all of that yarn.
Let the silence that fills the room be the epitaph on his grave.
Research the art of bee keeping. It is a wonderful and rewarding hobby. After your time studying your dedication will pay off. Befriend a giver of colonics house. Trick Dave Coulier into said health department or back alley gut washer building. When Coulier expects to have undigested food removed from his bowels he will instead face the majestic fury of a hundred thousand bees in his ass. Be sure to laugh as he passes.
Find out what Cooler likes in a mate. Really dig deep and discover the ins and outs to his dreams and ambitions in a life partner then become this partner. Make the man behind Uncle Joey fall for you, and fall hard. Make him dream of you at night and wake up to the thought of your existence casting a smile upon his face.
Then move in with him and establish a great relationship with him, giving him everything he could ever want in life. If possible, give him children. Raise a family with him. Make his life as perfect as possible.
Then, one brisk autumn afternoon when you’re walking with him down the street with young Julian and Leopold on each arm, leave him. Leave him broken in the street. Take the kids and run. Never look back. Never call. Never write. Never do anything to remain in contact with the sonofabitch again.
This will be the deepest cut. This will be enough to cut it out, for good.
Plug up a television outside of Dave’s house facing the window by his bed. Now, you’re going to have to find a way to broadcast a DVD or even a VHS if you have to resort to it.
When you’ve figured out a way of doing so, via a television with a DVD player in it or what-have-you, you will also need to record NBC’s Whitney.
After you’ve been through the hell that is recording that program on to a disc or tape, play it for Fuller all night long while he sleeps. If it does not wake him, he will be driven to suicide when he does wake knowing that he lives in a world where such a thing is possible because he had to live with it on loop for an entire night. He will undoubtedly kill himself, saving you the trouble. If you’re lucky, he might even go on a murderous rage and kill Whitney, knocking out two birds with one stone, as I am sure that there will eventually be a “Kill Whitney” blog soon enough.