What The Heck Do We Think We're Doing?

Imagine you're laid up at home, icepacks on a sensitive area, and a delivery arrives. It's a quart of whale sperm hair conditioner with a card saying: "In honor of your vasectomy." If that happened to you, you're probably our founder's best friend, and the sender was our founder.

When we were in college or high school, the insults always flew when it came time for the big game with our crosstown rival. The guys always traded barbs about everything from each other's cars to each other's sex lives (or lack thereof). We sling them during sports to try to psyche our opponent out. We sling them at friends in games of verbal one-upsmanship.

There is a line. There's a point at which the friendly poke in the ribs becomes bullying. There's a point where friendly jibes become hateful epithets. That's why every insult has to be manually approved by us. We try to maintain a balance, and occasionally we may misjudge or our criteria may not be the same as yours. If that happens, we welcome your comments.We may not agree, we may not act on them, but then again we might.

This site isn't going to be for everyone. It may offend some people's sensibilities while prompting others to lay into us for being too mild. But if you're of a mind and temprament to be able to enjoy the buffet of abuse in our database, we say Bon Appetit.