I went too far with the fonts and too small with the type size. Lesson learned. I still love the Shakespearan insults!

Thy logick, like thy locks, is disarrayed;
Thy spleeny cheer, thou cream-faced loon, is dissembling.
Thou art a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver’d, glass-gazing, superserviceable, financial rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and
art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a craven onion-eyed fustilarian, we’ll tickle your catastrophe if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
No matter the foot-licking love by thy hasty-witted mewling canker-blossoms.
Be off, I say; go buggger a tickle-brained corporate coof.

January 15, 2017