Bogus, Lying Assholes

I’ve met and in many cases maintained friendships with many, many very cool people, people who exemplify many positive traits. But then you have these bogus, lying assholes. What a bunch of pricks. These are the people who, if you ask them a straightforward question, will invariably serve up a lie in response.
One much-favored technique of their’s — the bogus, lying assholes — is to gild a festering, malicious lie with a sweet cocoon of truth, then serve it to you on a doilie and take great pleasure from your eagerness to gobble down what looks like a sour-apple Jelly Belly(TM). These scum, they are filth. Your innocence, your ingenuousness is to them like sun on the face of an albino, or a vampire, or even, god help you, a vampiric albino: it burns; god how it burns.
Here’s something to try next time you encounter one of these assholes, these bogus fucking liars. After he finishes feeding you a line of particularly unsavory and malignant bullshit — something intended to trick you into going into a back alley with him where you can be secretively robbed and stabbed by his cronies, or something to get you to fall into an uncovered manhole for his entertainment — smile at him thankfully, say “what wonderful advice!”, and offer him your hand to shake. When he takes it, make sure you have one of those hand-buzzers in your palm, but set to “kill” instead of “stun”. Fry that bogus dick. Shirr his lying parts so they fall away from the bone like the ashen, cylindrical remains of a cigarette giving up its cohesion and snowing down to the sidewalk.
Or heal him with love, this bogus, lying shithead. Say, “My brother, I can appreciate that your very nature compels you to lie constantly and maliciously, that mendicating is to you as masticating is to a cow: a long, never-finished duty that forms the defining core of your everyday actions. However, my poor fallen brother, you must get a handle on it, lest the next fellow you jest with in your peculiar way shirr you with his goddamn handbuzzer. For will not the world cheer when, charred unto cinder, your body falls away from its frame like dust blown from the face of an ancient tablet by Indiana Jones?”