Much like the invocation of 9-11, the superlative obliges of us discretion in its employ, lest its power be unduly cheapened. After all, can we really have that many "-ests" in our lives? Sure, Ed Wood and Fuck Start Your Face easily qualify for "worst" within their respective genres. But what of a man, who, in his own words, is guilty only of "listing [my] accomplishments and telling a girl that [I] think there's a problem because she has six pictures of her head" on Match.com?
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