Voldemort is a snivelling bitch who needs to go back to wizard school

I refuse to call him Lord Voldemort anymore. No, I hereby divest him of that title and confer upon him my own, "Sir Pussy-Ass Bitch". How does that sound, Sir Pussy-Ass Bitch? You like it? No? Well, get used to it 'cause that's whatcho momma gonna call you from now on.

So what in the name of death-dealing Hungarian Horntails is wrong with Voldemort, man? His career began with such promise, such pomp and pageantry. "He whose name we shall not take" was how the villagers described him in hushed whispers as they went about their business, which consisted of walking around as if they were going about their business. And great fucking jeepers, you remember how indiscriminately you shat your pants in the first Harry Potter movie as Voldemort emerged out of the gay teacher's turban in the form of a walking talking back of a head? And what happened? When push came to shove, the bastard just didn't have it in him. His face crumbled before your very eyes as he was defeated by a bespectacled geek still in his first year at wizard school. And the reason was .... love? THE Voldemort defeated by a mother's love? That is just disgusting. I hope your momma sent you to bed without dinner that day, Sir Pussy-Ass Bitch, it cannot have been one of her proudest moments. It was a bad day for evil, it sure was.

Then, in "The Chamber of Secrets", he was a slave to a fucking diary. What is with that? Harry might be a geek, but even he wasn't so into books as was his nemesis, the great Voldemort. And this time he was again vanquished by doing what? Destroying the diary, hah who could have seen that coming? The very least he could have done was take back the diary after Harry was done with it and keep it in a safe deposit box. What, do I have to spell out everything? What a sad little worm, a bookworm, even.

And then, in "The Prisoner of Azkaban", he just didn't make an appearance. Where the fuck were you, man? Licking your wounds, or hanging out in sunny Jamaica drinking shit out of a hollowed out pineapple? You should have utilized the time to polish your moves, what in the name of hell were you thinking?

But yesterday it was the final straw that opened my eyes to the collosal loser that he is. "The Goblet of Fire" saw his ultimate humiliation, it was just a sorry sight. Even when surrounded by, like, ten of his masked minions, in a graveyard located in who the fuck knows where, probably Alabama, with stone crypt-keepers and shit of that sort, even with the scary-ass slit-nosed Ralph Fiennes playing him with demonic precision, Voldemort couldn't defeat the young wizard who was, in fact, still traumatized by the loss of his good-looking classmate. I mean, what the fuck? Sure, you could say that Harry's mom and dad jumped out of their graves and helped their son escape but still, jeez louis, he's supposed to be the greatest evil wizard of all time, surely he could see it coming? After all, he knew they were buried in that graveyard, yeah? And this incompetent third-grade waste of netherworld slime is supposed to be Good Wizardry's ultimate nightmare? Well, fuck you and I hope you don't mind if I sound a bit skeptical.

In fact, you know what, Voldemort is kinda like that gangsta rapper who introduces his song about the dangers awaiting a nigga who chooses to live his life in the ghetto with the statement "Dis goes out to my niggaz on da West-Side dat was down from day one." And then, after giving out a clarion call for all his homiez to get into their sixty-fo's and congregate along with their glocks in LBC to beat the stuffing out of Nasty Old Whitey cop who's been keeping dem down from day one, begins to sing a sad old ditty of love and loneliness and weeping and a heart broken by his bitch's philandering, the ho who turned a trick by leaving him for someone with bigger, blacker man-meat. I mean, what the fuck?

So Voldemort, all I gotta say to you is you ain't all dat, pardner. If youse want to be feared, youse got to be fearsome. And right now, you're just a two-bit bitch-ass nigga who gets slammed by a punk-ass schoolkid everyday at work. You gotta go back to school, boy, you gotta brush up on some of that magic that you seem to have forgotten. But more than that, you gotta work on your confidence. 'Cause magic is all in the head. If you KNOW you can make a broom fly by clicking your heels and staring at the sky, then god dang it, it will fly and how.

And making a broom fly would be a good first step in, you know, killing a goddamn 13 year old kid with glasses.