Your mother is a horcrux. I left a little piece of myself inside of her.

I wrote your mom's geosynchronous obit.

Names redacted

I've removed all the most obvious references to the identities of this blog's authors. They're not top-secret by any means, but at least people will no longer discover them by accident. I will say: the blog has two authors. A, uh, simple Google search totally wouldn't reveal my identity.

Your mom released a hot Bitchtorrent.

Your mom makes me NP-Hard. I make your mom NP-Complete.

Your mom called me "Napoleon" and I boned her apart.

Your mom went down until further notice.

Your mom internalized The Oppressor.
Your mom had the policeman inside.