Dear Coyote,
You, sir, are a treacherous jabbering pimp that should be given the bastinado and deported. Preferably to some "rendition" camp in some Godawful 3rd world shithole. Like Vancouver. We've had it up to HERE with your shenanigans, your unsanctioned & unlicensed RPG abuse, and your filthy and all-too-public tika masala habit.
You are a menace to our way of life. You inspire communism in our young people. You openly admire terrorists and tell people that it's okay to have red hair. And don't think we don't know about your disgusting gearbox-porn addiction. Impressionable people all over America have had their junk torn off by rotating parts, and it's YOUR FAULT.
Get out. Just grab your Goddamn pull-start cappacino thingie and get out.
Yours truly,
A Concerned American.
My Dearest Filthy American Pig Dog Corporate Whore,
I shan't.
And you can't make me.
'twer it possible
I rather suppose I should do it in anycase.
what you
And many of your illfavored coal-mining folk
Do not seem to be
Capable of discerning
I am an ARTISE
Sadly
It must fall to me
To
Flaunt my cultural superiorty
(for sad as it is)
You lack
Insincerist Felicitation,
Canis Latrans
Dear Rat Bastard,
I have PEOPLE up there in Seattle, people who will jerk you up by the back of your kilt and tie your thumbs together with baling wire and stick you on the city bus with your cheeks painted orange and your lips glossed with Cosmoline.
Don't think this country got where it is today without figuring out how to deal with deviants like you. Sarah Palin could snap you in half just by flexing her ovaries, you filthy hippie.
Also, I CHECKED, and "astroglide" is NOT an olympic sport, despite what you've told the people around you.
Yours in Perpetual Rage,
Commander Ringmeat.
Dear True American Hero,
All those things that you felt were unnecessary to divulge in the public arena and forum, I feel speaks volumes of the so called "american spirit"
And I shall have you know, that despite my incredulousity that you would contemplate the consultation of any collection of words that were not accompanied by colorful cartoon characters, I will chalk up your contrarian belief with regards the to the great and noble, yet sadly unsung, sport that has become know as "astroglide"
What is next? Are you going to dare disagree with my disagreement that the disgusting deviant debacle you like to call "football" is actually nothing more than hyper-capitalistic brainwashing for your simpleton mind?
And for the record, how dare you imply that I wear a kilt. I shall let you know that I have it on good authority that I have been in fact wearing a skirt, a garment with a long and noble history of not, as you like say, giving a fuck.
The allegations that you are attributing to my aubades about the joys of mechanical romance that implicate the postivity of cramming ones genitive meat parts into the cold and heartless innermost workers of the great and wonderous devices around is nothing more than terrible unimaginative wet-dreamings of a pitiable lowranking thug in the horrible dance that you like to imply is something about your oil.
In Deepest Scorn,
The Reginald de'la Pantaloons
Dear Un-American French Guy,
I knew you'd get around to insulting the noble sport of football. Hell, it is such a well-loved institution that even your European buddies changed the name of their sport (from "soccer") out of sheer admiration, which is SORT of a compliment, even if their game is for sissies and doesn't involve being mashed by a 300 pound speed freak wearing an artificial/redundant skull.
And that fucking thing is a KILT. And I HOPE that you're wearing a spooran over your head, because if that's YOUR FACE then I truly feel bad for your fellow students and random passers-by.
Yours in Perpetual Perpetuity,
Martin Bormann
To That Terrible Asshole:
Maybe you should have stopped shoving stoats and ferrets and feral canaries down your so called "trousers" long enough to realize the terrible and permanent damage you were doing to the ecosystem of your soul. If you weren't so fucking wacked out of your gourd on coal-dust and back gas, you would have realized that what you are doing is repairable destroying the fabric that binds you to the fucking moon. As for your incomprehensible hatred for those noble creatures the "Welsh" I have nothing to say. Your terrible behavior is obvious to everyone around, and would be so to yourself if you were so inclined to stop gazing in the abyss that is your coal-blackened soul.
In Welshness Yours,
LLLYWHJHFGASDFFGRYYN
Dear Geographically-Challenged Fuckpot,
There is no coal in Cornwall; it is all in Wales. Cornwall mines for mud, sir, high quality mud that we provide to the Welsh so that they will have something to wallow in. In exchange, we take their coal, so we have something with which to heat our torture impliments. Also, to use as Valentine's day gifts, as coal most closely resembles the Cornish heart. We DO have Valentine's day, after all...Being human, we have courtship rituals, unlike the Welsh who just wait until they go into heat.
And as for your mockery of the fine & ancient sport of ferret-legging, you're just jealous that you didn't think of it first.
Love & Kisses,
Ferdinand Marcos
Unkindest Assrat,
Firstly, do not lay the blame for your "people" being wholly and totally unable to keep the rocks that they keep underground from running away from their terrible abuses.
Secondly, I would kindly ask you refrain from composing erotic poetry from the phone book and then sharing it with my poetry discussion group. Were I or one of my peers to do such a thing it would an obvious work of the highest poesy, but when you deem to blaspheme such a vaunted and hallowed institution as the phone book with your adolescent fumblings, I dare say, it is the most gravest of insults you could inflect on the very concepts of numbers, words and sex. You should be ashamed.
Thirdly, I shall stop because I know that you being a Cornish "man" are incapable of comprehending numbers of magnitude greater than the number of flippers you were born with.
In Most Disgust,
The Ordinarily Ordinate
:popcorn:
Dear Ass Goblin,
While my mighty guns may appear inhuman to lesser mortals, they are not "flippers". Nor shall I idly stand by while you deride the noble art of yellow pages porn. I don't expect a Welshman to understand art, just as I wouldn't expect them to understand levers, inclined planes, or door knobs, so I really can't hold you to task for the above barbarism.
Instead, I blame you for you. You are a squat man, if you use the term loosely on a biological level, and you are a piss-poor example for the Irish, who are finally getting around to standing upright. Seek help. There are support groups for people like you (the ASPCA comes to mind), who will help you break your auto exhaust habit, so you will no longer be forced to cling to the bottom of cars like some deranged pilot fish.
Yours in mutual loathing,
Augusto Pinochet
To You (Asshole):
I care not to read the contents of any envelope appears to be the glued together wrappers of prophylactics. Nor care I to feed or host those terrible things you insist on using to deliver your post. This is not the 19th century. One cannot simply pick up hipsters off of the streets and shear them of their fedoras and send them screaming through the air carrying an obviously unmailable and unsafe correspondence wearing nothing but an incendiary device clamped to their bits and bobbs. It is firstly a most unsightly thing to behold. Secondly, the neighbors have begun to herd their cattle and housing away from my flat, no doubt as disturbed as I by your most unseemly choices of parcel postage. Thirdly, and I shall refrain from a fourthly as I do know how hard complex numbers like four and five are for you, I cannot abide the smells that accompany them nor your unwholesome messages.
Horrifically,
Yohann Glep Ckapldoodle the VIIIth, esq.
POSTED
You fucking jabbering jizzmoppers - keep your rancid ass discussions and horrible heathen heart-to-hearts out of the damn alley. I have better things to jerk it to at 3AM than the sound of your putrid lives heaving out another misbegotten fuckstack. Kindly take your pustulant genetalia, tales of woe, and crack - addled gurgligns to another burrow. Or don't. I've been training the local rats by slathering a boom box with stale jerky soaked in eau de ghetto cologne and left it with "I'm on crack" on repeat. by now the beasts should be well conditioned to ravage anything spouting similar wails and grandoise claims.
Cheers
Richter.
PS - they go for the genitals first. "Rohypnol" Ralphy found that out in the wee hours this morning.
Dear Welsh Assbag:
I propose we take a break just long enough to drag this midlands sheepfucker out back and recreate "ill-drowned Geordie" on his ass. He's pretty tough, so I'll be forced to use you as a club. You should find this to be an exciting career move, upwardly mobile-wise. This could be your big break. I'll hire that Alaskan bastard to gnaw on his leg as a distraction.
While I still refuse to admit that the Welsh are in fact hominids, I think you and I agree that we don't have to take any shit off of fry-salting bastards from Providence.
Yours in unnecessary violence,
King Richard III
My Dearest Cornish Pastry,
I concur with the briefest of recesses to see to that is uncivilized varlet be suitable drubbed and chastised so as to never again make an utterance against his betters. However I cannot agree to the usage of my personage as a rude implement of cranial trauma, for while we Welshlanders are made of much sterner of stuff than you can commercially, and legally, procure at the local iron-mongers, I have a much more entertaining and sporting idea. I have just made the acquaintance of a rather wealthy, if unstable, fellow Welshlander who luck would so have it one of the prime manufacturers of the fame Welshlander Sheep, a beast so unlike what you Cornish bastards, or those flannel hippies up north, are accustomed to refer to as sheep as a Cornish are unlike the rest of us, or bear is unlike a racoon. Unlike the common sheep that is widespread through out Scotland, or "new" Zealand, the Welshlander Sheep is not content to allow itself to be wooed easily, they are also known and noted for being the primary source of scurvy and steel cable in the world, and would gladly eat a man alive where he stands. What is also not very well known is that they are not much bigger than a hedgehog. I shall, at great expense and danger, make the acquisition of several thousand of them and have them delivered post haste to this den of spray-tan, Providence.
Yours Zoological Terror,
Emperor Arthlwys
:lulz: :lulz: :lulz:
I hope this shit was entertainment for some people because evidently it wasn't enough for Roger to keep from bitching about f5ing right after I posted and then not posting
Quote from: Don Coyote on October 24, 2013, 06:54:13 AM
I hope this shit was entertainment for some people because evidently it wasn't enough for Roger to keep from bitching about f5ing right after I posted and then not posting
I didn't have a response ready, and by the time I did, you said you were "so fucking done with me", so then there wasn't any POINT in answering.
If that's the case, then just be done with me. I have no intention of participating in any more fights, now that RWHN is gone, and I'm never discussing the subjects of religion and atheism again, so I don't understand what this is about.
Rwhn is gone? Well damn. What the hell did i miss?