I refuse to name the bitch. I refuse to give her the space in my rant. She has no respect for the dead or those they left behind.
You may or may not figure out my rant. I don't care. She wants the notoriety. The infamy. I refuse to name the bitch.
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
I refuse to name the bitch.