>And let's see "Writer Boy" beat THAT,fairest Meghan! ;)
Dearest jack,
I am suitably unimpressed by this filth you mistakenly call
writing. Plots from Dallas are not worthy of the title "writing," but
merely advertisements for soap, wallowing in the soggy gruel that is middle
aged housewives minds, ever reaching to strike out of their pathetic
existance and into something more dangearous, more risque, more outright
scandalous than the sham of experience that suburbia affrods them. Is that
what you write jack? Voyueristic masturbation for baby-boom push and clean
vacuum women with nothing more whole in their lives than the 12 grain
cereal they eat for breakfast, snidely thinking to themselves that they're
being oh so terribly healthy? Oh jack, if this is the future of our
literature, than i woe for our children who must wade through your
drivle. Let me ask you this: have you ever --read-- a book? You know,
something with hard covers and pages that waft up to your nose. No, comics
do not count jack. I can only imagine the kind of depraved situations your
twisted mind would put spider-man into. you are nothing more than a garden
variety pervert, haunting the alleys behind mental hospitals in the dark
purple hours of night, wishing sickness onto nuns and pushing widows in
front of cement trucks. I loathe you jack, and everything your kind
represent. Perhaps one day when or world is returned to the virginal
purity I hope it can once more attain, we will no longer have to put up
with the maniacal and sadistic rantings of you and your ilk. Perhaps that
day, all men can be equal, and not just men, the sexes shall be without
cielings, and all peoples, all tribes, all creeds shall be as one under the
holy name of brotherhood from the red hills of georgia to the green rises
of Galway along the blue and verdant bay.
Secondly, "jack," (if that is your real name) your singularly obtuse mind
amazes me. How you could fail to observe the comic tone of Meghan's
"looking for love," not only befuddles the mind to such a degree that I
have no recourse to label you not only a pervert, but dumb as toast as
well. That my friend, is where I shall leave you: shuddering in a puddle
at the thought of your own sick insignicifance.
-Writer Boy, who provides all the love Meghan needs.
(And there is a reason I chose never to capitalize your name, you blinkard,
philistine, miserable, pig-ignorant piece of non-creative garbage)
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