words with friends iphone cheat cheaters cheating jerks hitler

Dear Words With Friends Cheaters

This is an open letter, not just to the cheaters I play with on Words With Friends (you know who you are), but to all the cheaters of the world.

To every male athlete who didn’t quite measure up, so he went and tucked his wiener into his shorts and competed as a woman.

To every BP exec who thought, “Eh, let’s just skip those safety inspections and go eat some baby dolphin stew instead!”

For all those kids who didn’t get enough attention from their fathers so they made up some bullshit story about these poor, innocent priests molesting them. Just kidding.

But most of all, this is for every lying, cheating, son of a bitch who decides that just because you can go on a website and look up all the possible combinations of words you can make with the letters you have, that it’s OK to do so.

Well, fuck you.

Now I’m not one for hyperbole, but you sir, are worse than Hitler.

And who the fuck do you think you’re kidding?

You didn’t graduate high school, you use the word ‘like’ fifteen times per sentence, but you know that a ‘teres’ is ‘either of two muscles passing below the shoulder joint from the scapula to the upper part of the humerus‘?

Sure you do, Hitler.

“Oh, I remember hearing that on the History Channel or something!”


You looked it up.

Just admit it, you lying, thieving, despicable excuse for a piece of monkey excrement.

Play the game. Or if you can’t deal with the fact that I am smarter and more well-versed than you, don’t play the game.

But don’t insult my (vastly superior) intelligence like that. At least make it believable.

You could have played ‘set’ for 23 points. That wouldn’t have aroused my suspicion, but you got greedy. So now you’ve got 42 points and my undying hatred, instead.

This might be hard to believe, but I have something of a rage problem and it is getting harder and harder for me to convince the AT&T store that my iPhones are getting smashed into a million pieces by simple, normal wear and tear and not the uncontrollable, violent spasms of a lunatic on his last nerve.

In closing, let us remember, it’s called Words With Friends. And friends don’t cheat. And the ones who do tend to get cancer and have sparsely-attended funerals.

Just saying.