Fire it up. The guy that sends me text messages in the middle of the night telling me how he's going to improve Kill Taylor can't even get his fucking internet straight. The fittest man on the internet with the worst internet, you can win 500 bucks today.

Is it bad? Is the internet bad? Yes. Not when you stand close like that and I could pretend to milk your nipples.

You are a worthless, friendless, faggid lip, little piece of shit whose mommy left daddy when she figured out he wasn't Eugene O'Neill.

And it was now weeping and slobbering all over my drum set like a fucking nine-year-old girl.

What up, bitches? We're back with another kill Taylor. Now here's this week's workout. Pay attention so you don't fuck it up.

Bitch. That was good, babe. That was good. Oh, thanks, babe. Happy birthday, by the way. Oh, thank you.

This week's Kill Taylor workout is brought to you by Holy Balls. This shit's fucking delicious.

It's literally like cookie dough. So if you love having loads of balls in your mouth, go fucking by holy balls. This shit's fucking delicious. It's literally like cookie dough.

So if you love having loads of balls in your mouth, go fucking by their shit.

This week's workout is a seven-minute amrap, 50 alternating dumbbell clean and jerks,

50 box clearovers, and then max Toza Bar in the remaining time. 70 pounds for the men,

50 pounds for the ladies, 24 inches for both men and women.

I can already hear Savon say now, is this workout idiot proof?

I don't understand it.

Just fucking watch.

You'll get it.

Now, do you really think Taylor's going to lose two weeks in a row?

He's the fittest man on the internet.

You stand no fucking chance, so don't bother calling in. In fact, I'll do you one better. Here's a picture of his feet.

Go ahead and whip your dick out, do a little Boy Scout and start some firewood and enjoy the rest

of the show. What he said. Who wants to fuck my pussy?

Oh my God.

...