Butchering The Butch-Haters

Last night, as I settled into my favorite chair, the one upholster'd with the skin of ill-temper'd puppies, I was content. Her Grace Sheila had taken care of some unpleasantness earlier, and I thought my work was done for the week. I was content to merely sharpen my axe and watch the uneven yet amusing season finale of The Office. But I was interrupted by the incessant vibrations of my Blackberry. (Lovely technologickal advances in 2008.) All these elecotronick letters pointed me to the same post. It seems that some of you just don't get it. Here at Gawker, we don't anonymously slander the physical appearance of others. If you continue to feel it necessary to mock those you find unattractive, you will no longer be welcome here. However, mocking the stupid things that people do is wholly encouraged. For instance, feel free to dance on the graves of the sodding twits listed after the jump.


Executed: Buzz Killington
Crime: It's fine to have a contrary opinion, but not this one.

Executed: Kenneth212
Crime: No, it's not.

Executed: The-Cubicle-Dweller
Crime: Geez, I would certainly not like to read any more of your unfunny tripe.

Executed: Priam
Crime: Yes it is.

Executed: Miss_Msry
Crime: Seriously though, it isn't.

As always, condemnations, bribes, pleas for mercy, and sexist homophobic screeds may be sent to GawkerExecutioner@gmail.com. Don't email Denton, Pareene, Richard, Sheila, Hamilton, Nick Douglas, Ryan or anyone else from the Court of Gawker. I'm not them, and they don't care.