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"SCAMMERS could be here" he thought, "I've never been in this neighborhood before. There could be SCAMMERS anywhere." The cool wind felt good against his bare chest. "I HATE SCAMMERS" he thought. Sweet Dreams are Made of These reverberated his entire car, making it pulsate even as the $9 wine circulated through his powerful thick veins and washed away his (merited) fear of minorities after dark. "With a car, you can go anywhere you want" he said to himself, out loud.

Kill scammers. Behead scammers. Roundhouse kick a scammer into the concrete. Slam dunk a scammer baby into the trashcan. Crucify filthy scammers. Defecate in a scammer's food. Launch scammers into the sun. Stir fry scammers in a wok. Toss scammers into active volcanoes. Urinate into a scammer's gas tank. Judo throw scammers into a wood chipper. Twist scammers heads off. Report scammers to the IRS. Karate chop scammers in half. Curb stomp pregnant nigger scammers. Trap scammers in quicksand. Crush scammers in the trash compactor. Liquefy scammers in a vat of acid. Eat scammers. Dissect scammers. Exterminate scammers in the gas chamber. Stomp scammer skulls with steel toed boots. Cremate scammers in the oven. Lobotomize scammers. Mandatory abortions for scammers. Grind scammer fetuses in the garbage disposal. Drown scammers in fried chicken grease. Vaporize scammers with a ray gun. Kick old scammers down the stairs. Feed scammers to alligators. Slice scammers with a katana. Total scammer death.