I am a thoroughly unlikable bastard. Not in the "I will ape misanthropy on the intarweb because it makes me edgy" sense, but in the sense of actually being a callous, insufferably supercilious fellow who is full of little else but spite and contumely for the vast majority of my fellow man. Evidence is inconclusive as to whether or not I follow the cliche to its inevitable denouement and possess a "heart of gold".
At any rate, odds are I don't like you and would enjoy nothing better than to fill your lungs with bees. This is because, on the statistical level, the categories of "people whom I dislike" and "people who deserve to die by bee inhalation" are so similar that if plotted on a Venn diagram the resultant shape would be a perfect circle.
