May an unknown amount of furious Oompa Loompas build up a tolerance to nipples while kicking your worthless chicken head.
May 7 buff spacemen smash beer cans on their sanitary napkins while performing a drive-by-shooting on your naughty area.
May a herd of mammoth members of Menudo impale sphincters while kicking your enlarged dog.
May a quartet of Indian elected officials evacuate their bowels in monkey brains while standing on your naughty area.
May an infinite amount of grape jelly covered Ricky Martin impersonators shampoo their hair with buffalo wings in an evil parallel universe of your hairy closet.
May 777 moist clowns take one for the team for the sake of AOL start-up disks while wizzing on your hotel minibar.
May 911 toxic steel workers play spin the bottle with Captain Crunch behind your huge dinner salad.
May an overabundance of over-friendly 5th cousins hollar "Them's fight'n words!" to grass seeds after pledging allegiance to your tasty Wang computer.
May a few over-friendly jaywalkers poop out Meow Mix over your liquified country's president.
May a baker's dozen of genetically cloned five-assed senior citizens crossbreed with aroused used dish water on your ingrown chicken ranch.
May you have nightmares in which bi-sexual con artists have a drink made of jelly beans and duct tape beside your gerbil's prostate... FOR ME TO POOP ON!
May 8 of my favorite Ricky Martin impersonators watch "When crocodile hunters attack!" on Fox while they entice bananas after setting fire to your cat's local Starbucks.
May a plethora of naked Sunday-School teachers dance a jig with cacti while standing on your imaginary gazebo.
May a gallon of fresh clowns time travel back to the Age Of pot using only vaseline and your least favorite treehouse.
May a handful of flea-ridden whores smash beer cans on their monkey brains within a portion of your purse.
May a dozen ditzy CRNet Owners eat your baby and some fish balls in an evil parallel universe of your cross-dressing waste treatment center.
May a hell of a lot of funny gynecologists sell their souls to the devil for a box of child evil geniuses after genetically cloning your dried up sweatshop employees.
May an infinite amount of mentally deficient damn dirty apes profess their love of easter eggs while polishing your moldy George Foreman Grill.
May you witness bewildered heart surgeons declare bankruptcy after investing in 2 tons of duct tape while polishing your lice-infested log.
May a hell of a lot of handicapped steel workers consummate the marriage of Geoge W Bush's bananas out from underneath your silicone enhanced Britney Spears poster.
May a molar quanity of pink elves be forced into slave labor for Leonardo DeCaprio while worshiping your blue and red tights.
May 2.5 mutant people named "dr. Indian" glaze a ham with Captain Crunch above your deep fat fried nutroll.
May 7 nuclear television repairmen explode scantily clad women at a fund-raising event for your crappy swimming pool.
May a dozen inbred Baskin-Robbins employees masturbate their 1.21 JIGAWATTS!!!! of doom above your boss's decapitated head.
May an insane amount of aroused Santa Clauses dirty dance with chex mix while kicking your gerbil's sweatshop employees.

Insulter v2.0 BETA 6 by Mike Newman
Words by Ted Harapat, Mike Newman, and others

# of combinations: 96,492,703,376,380,080


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