May 1,000 yellow retards be declared the king-a gravel pile-distributers in Kentucky for the last 12 years to squid tentacles by your under-appreciated jock strap.
May 64 creamy Bob Barkers kick it root down with fish balls while thinking lustfully of your favorite George Foreman Grill.
May 98 crafty Monty Python fanatics commit adultry with lumps of coal while fending off your yellow Egg McMuffin.
May 62 nearsighted AT&T cable service workers fantasize about hand lotion in the vicinity of your delicious umbrella.
May 411 aerodynamic Super Mario Brothers shout "Finger licking good!" to Frogurt while having a bowel movement on your snot rag.
May 32 fluid ounces of ditzy computer geeks fight as freedom-fighters in the legendary Battle for smoked string cheese sticks while playing twister with your shower.
May an indeterminable amount of furry Jehovah's Witnesses spank ranch dressing in the vicinity of your deep fat fried waste treatment center.
May a mob of moldy Braks give the gift of dust mites to kidneys after genetically cloning your fat rolls.
May a dozen hairy elves take one for the team for the sake of burial urns after genetically cloning your disfigured Waffle-brains.
May a few necrophiliac Monty Python fanatics dismember a gravel pile while playing twister with your dad's helicopter.
May 1,024 400-pound Enron executives genetically splice together several members of Da Bears with fish balls while thinking lustfully of your nose hair.
May zero funkedified door to door salesmen dance a jig with grass seeds under your pet jelly-fish.
May 256 single husbands get the nickname "Swahilli" because they dismember nipples at a fund-raising event for your cracked labia majora.
May an insane amount of pill poppin' Regis Philbins develop the cure for cancer from diced mucus outside your shriveled up pontoon boat.
May 1,000 crafty mother-in-laws go so far as to inquire "Where's the Beef?" to ranch dressing after having to amputate your tenderized Arby's Giant Roast Beef Combo.
May a bushel of nomadic ninjas put the smack down on cigarettes while sniffing your secret lover, Roseanne Barr.
May a gallon of troubled prostitutes shout "I like to stick kidneys down my pants" to bison carcasses underneath your crooked bat guano.
May 32 fluid ounces of furious Pizza-Hut waitresses throw icecube trays at pot while performing a full cavity search on your gnarly tv dinner.
May a few buff prostitutes smell like a mixture of ass and yogurt out from underneath your huge crevice, so to speak.
May 16 constipated wedding singers perform a Vulcan Mind Meld to crazy glue next to your secret fecal matter.
May a dozen delicious Osama Bin Ladens give the Heimlich to pieces of driftwood at a fund-raising event for your dad's closet.
May 2 recovering alcoholic tigons shave the word(s) "lumps of coal" into the back of their head right after they sing the rap song "I like big dumpster" to barbeque sauce while worshiping your dinner guest.
May 2,000 of my favorite clowns masticate horny irishmen next to your fake hotdog.
May 128 high dingos feel pasta in an evil parallel universe of your huge front porch.
May 3,000 flattened unix system administrators wish they hadn't stuck leeches up their butt after they write love-letters to vaseline all over your ant farm.

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

# of combinations: 94,829,036,076,787,328


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