Post by w00ter on Dec 30, 2005 18:48:19 GMT -5
It sounds like English; it even looks like English, but I can't understand a word you're blabbering. You should offer your posting style to hospital operating theatres as a highly-effective alternative to unconsciousness-inducing medications.
Here's a tip: no one will ever know that you've had a lobotomy if you wear a wig to hide to the scars; stop posting your drivel on message boards, and learn to control the slobbering. You wouldn't know Up from Down if you had three guesses. Reading your post makes blindness a wonderful thing to look forward to. Oh well, as the late Douglas Adams said: "You live and learn. At any rate, you live."
You are about as entertaining as watching grass grow in a windowbox. What do you do for a living? You are living, aren't you? There's nothing wrong with you that couldn't be cured with a little Prozac and a polo mallet, or, better yet, suicide. Maybe you wouldn't be such a Jerk-In-The-Box if you weren't so stupid that even single-celled organisms out score you in IQ tests; if your weren't so fat that when God said "Let there be Light", he told you to move your fat ass out of the way, or if you didn't have a face so ugly that your mom had to get well-and-truly drunk before she could breast feed you. Who am I kidding? You would.
Now, why don’t you climb onto that Special Needs tricycle of yours with the fourth wheel attached for extra-ensured retard stability and pedal your fat ass down to the sports field and do some “outdoors” stuff for a change. Hell, if you don’t like it, you can always offer to lick-clean the jockstraps
Here's a tip: no one will ever know that you've had a lobotomy if you wear a wig to hide to the scars; stop posting your drivel on message boards, and learn to control the slobbering. You wouldn't know Up from Down if you had three guesses. Reading your post makes blindness a wonderful thing to look forward to. Oh well, as the late Douglas Adams said: "You live and learn. At any rate, you live."
You are about as entertaining as watching grass grow in a windowbox. What do you do for a living? You are living, aren't you? There's nothing wrong with you that couldn't be cured with a little Prozac and a polo mallet, or, better yet, suicide. Maybe you wouldn't be such a Jerk-In-The-Box if you weren't so stupid that even single-celled organisms out score you in IQ tests; if your weren't so fat that when God said "Let there be Light", he told you to move your fat ass out of the way, or if you didn't have a face so ugly that your mom had to get well-and-truly drunk before she could breast feed you. Who am I kidding? You would.
Now, why don’t you climb onto that Special Needs tricycle of yours with the fourth wheel attached for extra-ensured retard stability and pedal your fat ass down to the sports field and do some “outdoors” stuff for a change. Hell, if you don’t like it, you can always offer to lick-clean the jockstraps