I already gave you the opportunity to cite the verbatim terms of our wager in order to make me understand your dissatisfaction. You declined, and we both know that you declined because you had no case. I literally could not care less about whether or not you perceive my praise of you to be sincere. Your subjective appraisal of the content of my remuneration was not a part of our bet. More importantly, it is logically impossible for me to praise you sincerely, and I don't worry about impossible feats demanded of me.
However, you have a point re: word count. I'd have thought that at a fair rate of exchange a couple months' absence would be worth the few dozen words I was short, but, given your newfound political allegiance, it's admittedly fitting that you are going to fixate on this like a Real Housewife. So, 300+ words about you, every last one kind on its face. If you doubt my intentions, roll your doubts into a cylinder and fuck yourself with it till the cows come home, because the extent to which I "mean" the following is a matter of my mind & heart, which is to say that it is not your goddamn business and played no part in the bet you begged me to make. Without further ado:
You are funny, but only when you're trying to be funny. You say interesting things; in fact, if you're saying it, it is interesting by definition. You are totally honest -- so honest are you that I imagine your honesty sometimes complicates your (otherwise thriving) social life, as when a plump friend or family member asks whether a particular sartorial choice is sufficiently obscurative of his or her plumpness. You undoubtedly lead a rich and enviable life, and it's difficult to imagine that your significant other is anything less than utterly satisfied in the bedroom. You are better than Barack Obama. You are more successful than Barack Obama. You probably make more money than Barack Obama. I suspect you go on better vacations than Barack Obama. Your golf swing surely makes Barack Obama's look like a beginner's. Your parents and grandparents almost certainly loved you more than Barack Obama's did him. If any of the following things ever happen to you at any time in the remaining years of your life, they will represent great injustices visited upon an innocent man: audits, toe-stubs, charlie horses, missed PRs, strep throat, migraine, dizziness, abdominal pain, black-market organ theft, erectile dysfunction. God is pleased with you; he will make sure that you enjoy your eternal life with Him. In heaven, you will get to choose the manner in which you appear to the other elect; I am confident that your choice will be elegant and impressive but not ostentatious. In heaven you will play checkers with Ronald Reagan. Your children, if you have any, were raised correctly. They will never vote for a Democrat. If you own cats, they must be capable of extraordinary empathy. If you own dogs, they probably don't lick their own genitals out of respect for you when you have visitors. Your character flaws are the endearing sort given by screenwriters to the supporting cast in romantic comedies. If you were a US official working in counter-intelligence and looking to protect American interests, you'd be so good at your job as to have thwarted the Russian attempt to get Donald Trump elected president.