Testing...

"If many people object to your articles, consider the possibility that it might be you.  Some people are just a waste of skin."

Scary Devil Monastry FAQ, section 1.3

Dispite the many, many warnings in the FAQ, someone actually went and did it.

From: winter <wfielder@shredofhope.earthling.net>
Newsgroups: Scary Devil Monastery
Subject: testing
Date: Wed, 27 Oct 2004 22:14:49 GMT

testing
-- 
Remove my last shred of hope to email me.

It's like flicking a Rotweiler's bollocks and expecting to have a hand left at the end of it. Suffice it to say, the whole arm was removed; albeit slowly and laboriously. Disgruntled Goat salutes the Monastery for one of the best flames of all time.

From: - AJS <bogus @ nowhere.com>
Newsgroups: Scary Devil Monastery
Subject: Re: testing
Date: Thu, 28 Oct 2004 02:40:07 +0000 (UTC)

winter <wfielder@shredofhope.earthling.net> wrote:
>testing

Just when you think the Universe has finally made its decision, tied you 
to the tracks and announced the #7 to 'Jersey is just around the bend, 
life hands you a peach. Today Winter, you're my peach.

I sat here reading the 200 page document just served me on behalf of my 
ex-wife, detailing why her lawdog thinks I should pay triple what I have 
been faithfully paying in support. My ex-GF spun the wheel of psyches 
again this morning and woke up psychotic. (And while I admit the wheel may 
be balanced that way to begin with, it landed exceptionally hard on target 
today.) I just left a mandatory 3 hour meeting for a project I have 
nothing to do with, which finished with a tangential aside by 
$MarketingWeaselVP about why $VeryLongProject is behind by a single day. I 
posted earlier to begin the hunt for The_Replacement(TM) because I am 
weary. And in my brief glimpse of the big blue room through the lobby 
glass, I saw brightness and color and a large shining star promising 
warmth to those who could step out to bask in it. Those people would not 
be me.

At my bleakest moment, when I was truly about to dig out the razor and 
then bury it, they sky opened and into the dark crevasse of my day fell 
you. Shaken from the tree of knowledge fell the fruit of your ignorance, 
to brighten my day and give me this pitiful release. And so I take you in 
hand, my fetid little peach. I would bite you clean in half but for that 
smell. The scent of the necrotic mass above your shoulders is turning my 
stomach across all the miles that separate us. I wish you would have it 
removed.

If you were wondering, oh puss-riddled peach, the fecal splat you heard 
were your two loose brain-cells colliding with the inside of your skull 
when your entrance dumped you flat on your face. Don't worry too much 
about that, you obviously weren't using them anyway.

For some time now, I have been intending a rant - not powered by pique, 
not pumped up by a pet peeve, but a full on blood-letting. For when I 
posted first in this September Forum many years ago, there were rules and 
expectations. There was a line drawn in blood. The scent of coffee and 
sweat and tears permeated this place, and people like you my peach - who 
would be unable to bang the rocks together if their lives depended on it - 
people like even you had the sense to stay away. I lurked more than a year 
to learn the ropes here. Still I received a good chewing from time to 
time, once I dared to open the door and announce my presence.

Yet in this day of AOL and kiddie-porn and frivolous lawsuits, all respect 
has fallen aside and even these doors seem no longer well defended. Hours 
have passed and only a few slight words have been sent in response to your 
hail. Well, no more! Here of all places, where I go to escape your ilk, 
you dare stride so arrogant in your ignorance? "Look at me!" you wail, 
oblivious to your failings. Well, I am; I am looking right at you, you 
piss ant, lying there at my feet in the bed of your own filth. You have 
achieved what must have been your purpose, for no foolish salesbunny 
sports such brazen stupidity. No whelp born to the neglects of a Romanian 
orphanage would volunteer for such attentions as you have just drawn to 
yourself.

Quite simply, I have had enough.

In here you dared to stride, little worm-ridden peach, slamming open the 
doors to this hallowed place and shitting yourself for all to see. Take 
pride! Well done! Such a capital entrance you have made with that simple 
little post. You could no more spell out your character and intelligence 
than to tattoo "LUSER" on your forehead - assuming your skull could be 
removed from your ass in the first place.

You have not the sense even to know where you are, and yet you persist in 
screaming to the heavens: "I am here! Abuse me!" Plankton show more 
intelligence. Pigeon droppings on an outdoor wedding make a more positive 
impression than you have this day. Lemmings show greater IQ and a more 
promising future by leaping to their deaths - at least they escape the 
pain. You, you scurrilous little twit, you bleat like a sheep with its 
head caught in the fence, crying for the farm-hand's attention.

So let me set you right, oh pestilent little peach. This is a place of 
peace, for the sharing of pain, and for all those things known as 
Recovery, to which you are not entitled. There is an order here, and a 
reverence. There are rules. Your lack of comprehension bars you entrance. 
Your lack of apprehension and lack of respect show naught but ignorance, 
which here of all places is considered a sin. This proves you are a 
fuckwit. And ultimately, your failure to recognize that this place is not 
alt.fuckwit.lovers proves you have no business here.

Yes, you did post here. Don't let it happen again.

- AJS

Stonking.

This page was last updated: 8^th November 2004 at 3:00pm GMT