If I Were a Sculptor . . . Then Again, No

Lurker swarm surprised under a Windows PC

I'd be an executioner. And the first to go under Madame Guillotine would be YOU, the lurkers.

That's right, you quivering balls of spineless indecision. How do you go through your days, wringing your hands together as you shamble along the silent sidewalks, glancing furtively over your shoulder for some unseen assailant that MIGHT JUST POP OUT OF THE SHADOWS and ASK YOU FOR A CIGARETTE?

You get your vampiristic BLOOD-SUCKING JOLLIES just FEEDING ON MY outpourings of vitriol understated with a VAST HUMOUR you wouldn't recognize if JIMMY HOFFA ROSE FROM HIS CONCRETE TOMB AND WHACKED YOU WITH IT.

Yes, it's time to put out my MANIFESTO about you cowardly, misanthropic, microcephalic TROGLODYTES who, if struck one day with an ACTUAL OPINION would fall, slavering and moaning to the floor in a FIT OF TRICHOTIILOMANIA incurable by any of your Levadopa or Lithium or Thallium or whatever it is the guys in the white coats FEED YOU JUST TO KEEP YOU CONSCIOUS.

With your PRE-CAMBRIAN epithalamuses working HYPERTIME to spew out a semi-coherent pseudo-thought once in a year of Sundays I suppose it's HARDLY TO BE EXPECTED that you should expose your bone-china-white flesh that hasn't seen sunlight in decades, and, GOLLUM-LIKE, actually grunt forth an ACTUAL OPINION about what it is YOU READ and I WRITE HERE.

YOU'RE SO FATHEADED THAT YOU PUT MAYONNAISE ON YOUR ASPIRINS. YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE THROWN YOU AWAY AND KEPT THE STORK.

I told you, ya lurking bunch of goth-wannabe benthic-zone dwellers, YOU HAVE GEORGE BUSH'S APPRECIATION FOR GOOD WRITING and also HIS TASTE IN WOMEN'S UNDERWEAR.

You would not know how to spell C-A-T if your fucking NAME WAS CATHERINE and if you stumbled upon a treasure map with a huge "X MARKS THE SPOT" on it YOU'D GET OUT THE FUCKING OXI-CLEAN.


Who ARE you, ya scuttling bedbugs that drop by for a dose of HEALTHY MIND EXPANSION and leave not ONE FUCKING NOTE of appreciation for the hundreds of thousands of words, 80% of who are being READ BY YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME, WHOSE DICTIONARIES ARE ON SPEED-DIAL, who can't even put forth a mumbling "Can't you stop swearing all the time?"

YES. YES!!!! That would count as an actual comment! It would count as an OPINION! Something with which you seem to have only a NODDING ACQUAINTANCE!

Well, batten down the hatches, ya lurking three-celled brachiopods, because this is only JUST THE BEGINNING.

Fuck, my caps-lock key is now SO OVERHEATED that it wants to have sex with the space bar.