"The truth is, cancer isn’t funny, and lung cancer is a particularly nasty way to go. Although Mr. Limbaugh has made a career of twisting and torturing truth until it weeps and bleeds and pisses all over the floor of the dank basement that is his soul, and then sopping up this wet filth with a brown dishrag and wringing it into the gaping ear holes of his very intelligent, totally unbiased listeners, it’s important to remember that even our worst enemies deserve to be treated with compassion. So while it may be tempting to make flippant jokes about the delicious irony of an obnoxious, abusive, bigoted, detestable windbag getting cancer right down deep in the place where he gives birth to his lies, please, have some respect.

So don’t say things like, “I wish that sentient sack of pig vomit had three lungs so he could get 33 percent more cancer.” Sorry, not funny.

Refrain from comments such as “Why oh why couldn’t he have gotten cancer in a part of his body he doesn’t use, like his heart?” Not cool.

I don’t want to hear stuff like “I wish there were ten stages of cancer and I wish he had stage ten.” Uncalled for.

Under no circumstances should anyone post things like “I wonder if it’s possible to sponsor a community walk in support of lung cancer? I mean literally in support of the actual cancer cells.” That’s over the line, folks.

As we all know, a cancer diagnosis completely absolves a man of a lifetime of viciousness and immorality. So I want to be clear: In no way do I wish I could drop everything and take a job as a gravedigger at the cemetery that will soon hold his decaying remains just so I could have the opportunity to be the man to throw the last shovelful of dirt onto his cold grave and then dance on top of it while taking long swigs from a bottle of Blanton’s and cackling with glee until dawn." --The Fried Rice God from FaceBook