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This is the perfect moment, right when she says that Ian would’ve lost the last fight.
Let me break it down from left to right.
The fat mexican twitchfag is trying to make it seem like a joke. His smile is wide but in his eyes there is nought but pain and embarrassment.
The fat whore is rattling of, probably enamored with the sound of her own voice. Her face proportioned and near perfectly articulated in the same way the face of an autistic downey who had just escaped his handlers would make.
The cuck. Broken, bruised and on the verge of tears. His smile defladed, his optimism dead in a ditch as his wife (WHOSE LAST NAME HE TOOK) is breaking the last shred of his manhood in a live interview.
The other whore is barely keeping her mask on. Even the shameless twitch e-hore is barely able to keep from “what the fuck?”-ing at the sight of this cruel and disdainful jab.
It’s cosmic poetry.