Re: Confession time

On Wed, 16 May 2007 22:12:39 GMT, "Stan (the Man)"
<newsNOSPAM@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:

Josh Hill <usereplyto@xxxxxxxxx> wrote in
news:qcsm439md3steem3nhhht7ul0c92cvqs8b@xxxxxxx:

On Wed, 16 May 2007 20:50:18 GMT, "Stan (the Man)"
<newsNOSPAM@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:

Josh Hill <usereplyto@xxxxxxxxx> wrote in
news:tolm43h68iopllu7g11rr407k427lv484t@xxxxxxx:

On Wed, 16 May 2007 11:34:01 GMT, "Stan (the Man) (lest we forget)"
<newsNOSPAM@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:

Josh "Uninformed" Hill <usereplyto@xxxxxxxxx> wrote in
news:qhnk4394l2gop7kejce16lff6534i03t6k@xxxxxxx:

On Tue, 15 May 2007 12:39:55 GMT, "Stan (the Man)"
<newsNOSPAM@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:

No, I just enjoy puncturing your pomposity balloon and making you
throw hissy fits. Not that it's necessary, mind. No one here has any
illusions about you, uninformed one.

You know, the best thing about all of this is that at this point, if
you said "Josh isn't richer than Bill Gates," everybody and his
uncle would apply to me for a loan.

Hey, Stan, I'm an Olympic gold medallist! Hey, Stan, I've a license
to kill!

As I said, boring. With a slightly off taste.

Keep your mouth off me, half-boy.

Ooh, /another/ gay lame. Guess you've forgotten about being in the
closet and all.

Don't you have something you're /good/ at? Knitting, perhaps, or
shooting cats?

Yeah, making you twist and spin and whine and demonstrate that
you're a whimpering putz. Not exactly an exclusive talent, I must
admit.

What? You mean you aren't the only practitioner of gas-bag
braggadocio and my-cock-is-bigger-than-yours-is posturing? Whoda
thunk it?! I mean, I thought you had a precious gift.

Yeah, like I'm really gonna play fundoc with someone who goes
Norman Bates when I call him a mountain cow.

Face it, little fella, you simply don't have the tools. Never did.
All you've got is the high school Harry crap you've been posting in
your impotent and ridiculous attempts to feel like a man. You've
once again shot off your mouth without having the slightest clue as
to how to follow it up with your money. It's what you do: puff up
your sunken little chest and cry your shrill, empty little threats
and uninformed pronouncements. It's just one of the reasons you have
to eat so much shit. And, you'll continue to eat all the shit anyone
here chooses to shovel into your mouth because you simply haven't a
clue as to how to make it all stop. You'll never learn.

Oooh! Getting a little shrill, aren't we? Don't worry, I'm sure that
if you think long and hard you'll come up with another real clever
homo lame (dick-sucking half-boy -- gosh, with a creative intellect
like that, I ain't got a prayer). Or better yet, you'll devise some
extraordinarily clever fantasy in which you insert your phallus in
my rectum like a pissed-off bonobo.

Hey, maybe you can borrow that ASSCII art of Maughan's -- oops,
sorry, those little pictures of dicks and butts -- to comfort you in
your Ahabesque peg-walks. Oops! Sorry again -- how /ever/ could I
have been so thoughtless and inconsiderate? That's this obsessed
captain who floats about like trying to get back at this big mother
whale what ate his leg, and then does, and then this whale like
sinks his boat.

Until then, carry on, oh Real Man (as your nym reminds us hourly,
lest we forget): the entire First Grade trembles in fear.

Into full meltdown mode again, I see. Or, are you afraid someone might
forget for a second that you're an extrodinarily unoriginal and
impotent putz? Fear not, little half-man. Not gonna happen. And, try
to remember that your attempts at insult should have at least some
tenuous connection to reality. They never work otherwise (well, to be
fair, yours never seem to work, anyway, hard as you try). See, that's
why my insults directed at you sting so badly and send you into
bawling hissyfits like the one you just threw above.

HTH

The gods do laugh, Closet Man.

Now, stop playing kitty swat, put that microcephallic mini-noggin of
yours to work, and let's see what you really have under that
pathetically oversized codpiece of yours.

I mean, don't get me wrong, but this is beginning to remind me of
slicing Jell-O with an arc welder. Surely the man who went postal when
I called him a mountain cow can do better than this.

So saddle up, dude -- Rocinante awaits!

(That's a reference to -- oh, never mind.)

You see, Josh? You present no need to address any of your . . . um,
points. You don't make any points. You just swing wildly, hoping
desperately that one of your limp-wristed flails will find a target. Of
course, they never do. You declare yourself to be way too powerful for
your tormentor while demonstating your ineptitude and looking an utter
fool in the process. Your sexual references are yours alone, apparently
slipping past you completely that I've not said any of the things you've
been sobbing so pitifully over. Your extreme discomfort with your own
bizarre sexuality, while pathetic and certainly worthy of pity, is yours
alone, as well. I've merely smacked you with your own claims. Remember
that connection to reality I charitably attempted to teach you? Sad that
you don't understand, but hardly my problem. You are, as always, your
own worst enemy.

Uh, right.

--
Josh

"The conservative movement is founded on the simple tenet
that people have the right to live life as they please,
as long as they don't hurt anyone else in the process. . . .
The radical right has nearly ruined our party. Its members
do not care about the Constitution and they are the
ones making all the noise." - Barry Goldwater
.

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