Teddy Slayer

 

I recently had the fortunate experience of being enlightened (or educated) as to what evil Scotticus is currently conspiring to unleash upon the world. I would now like to share that experience with you. Perhaps before going on, I should describe Scotticus to you. Scotticus is destructive, gin-swilling, and covinous. Furthermore, he yearns to construct the spectre of a terrible armed threat. I wish that one of the innumerable busybodies who are forever making "statistical studies" about nonsense would instead make a statistical study that means something. For example, I'd like to see a statistical study of Scotticus's capacity to learn the obvious. Also worthwhile would be a statistical study of how many unctuous braggarts realize that the virus of propagandism took control of our country's political life long ago. Now, thanks to Scotticus's drug-induced ravings, that virus will continue to spread until no one can recall that I admit I have a tendency to become a bit insensitive whenever I rebuke Scotticus for trying to encourage the most virulent dissemblers I've ever seen to see themselves as victims and, therefore, live by alibis rather than by honest effort. While I am desirous of mending this tiny personality flaw, Scotticus snorts around like a truffle pig in search of proof that the existence and perpetuation of Maoism is its own moral justification. I, not being one of the many meddlesome bozos of this world, suspect that the only thing that Scotticus will find from such a search is that in his outbursts, scapegoatism is witting and unremitting, power-drunk and inane. He revels in it, rolls in it, and uses it to concoct labels for people, objects, and behaviors in order to manipulate the public's opinion of them.

Scotticus's fantasy is to destroy the values, methods, and goals of traditional humanistic study. He dreams of a world that grants him such a freedom with no strings attached. Welcome to the world of animalism! In that nightmare world it has long since been forgotten that if the only way to make a genuine contribution to human society is for me to endure Scotticus's despotic tyranny in all its plenitude, then so be it. It would undeniably be worth it because when he says that he can succeed without trying, that's just a load of spucatum tauri.

Implying that Scotticus's cock-and-bull stories are intelligent, commonsensical, and entirely consonant with the views of ordinary people is no different from implying that superstition is no less credible than proven scientific principles. Both statements are ludicrous. Just like dirty clothes on the floor and cluttered closets, Scotticus's mess won't go away if we simply look the other way. Show me where it says Scotticus has the right to paint pictures of out-of-touch worlds inhabited by the worst kinds of fatuous, choleric freaks of nature there are. If Marxism were an Olympic sport, he would clinch the gold medal. It is appalling to me that he has managed to destroy, debauch, devalue, and dehumanize a wide assortment of innocent people. This applies first and foremost to a junta under whose villainous brand of masochism the whole of honest humanity is suffering: Scotticus's army of heinous, surly nabobs of narcissism. Scotticus would have us believe that the majority of insane, illiterate Philistines are heroes, if not saints. To be honest, he has never actually said that explicitly, but if you follow his logic—what little there is—you'll see that this is his real point. I have one final message for you before ending this letter: The underlying reasons and causes for Scotticus's avaricious modes of thought must be defined, examined, and resolved, or they'll never cease.

---

Ok so while reading this thread I came up with a hypothesis and immediately ran down to the chemistry lab in my basement and did some science (scary, Steam popped up to say Portal* had finished updating literally two seconds after I finished typing that sentence, no joke ).

Using the data collected from posts on this thread, a vial of benzoic acid and the complex derived formula δ = (5 - N ) where N is the number of spelling mistakes per post and δ represents the individual organism's calculated spelling accuracy, I was able to test the hypothesis against the statistical evidence.



As you can see, although this study has not been infallibly conclusive, there does appear to be a significant correlation between the two sets of data. Additional evidence is required for further testing. My paper has been peer reviewed and is scheduled to be published in next month's issue of the New Scientist magazine.





*Seriously that actually just happened. Check it out :S

Felix

 

Captain Switzerland

 

Word filters for my name and Hydro's name.

Mine: Retard
Lord Flaming Moron

His: our lord and master

Monsoon Dancer

 

I was surfing on Craig'sList the other day- and was amused to discover that they do personals ads. Feeling in a flirtatious and jocund frame of mind, I decided to peruse the aisles of human desperation.

A good number of them were of men looking for other men, or looking for a blowjob from who cares. But glancing through the inanity, I came across a couple that actually looked interesting.

18 Year Old Stud Looking for an Equally Hot Lady

Greetings. My name is Retard, but you can call me Lucien, my lord, or Master Banhamster- whichever you prefer. Should you prove lucky, you can be my slave.

As previously stated, I am 18 and incredibly gorgeous. I am also cute and cuddly, and known for my sensitive nature. I am looking for a woman who can still look amazing even after stepping into my golden shadow- most women are outshined by my sheer awe-inspiring beauty. Any woman interested should not be apt to get jealous of my Adonis-like visage. She should be smart, dirty, and enjoy Live Action Roleplaying. High HP in Warhammer 40K is also a requirement. If you reply with bad grammar and spelling, I will smash your face.

Anyone interested should call 985-655-2500.

I took down that phone number Rawr! But that's not all- I was fortunate to find yet more eye candy hiding in the deep hellhole of Craig'sList.

Man looking for woman to rebuild humanity with after apocalypse

Who I am isn't important, it's what's happening that I'm talking about. You know. The zombie possum take-over of NATO, Disney, the Cheezels industry, and Latvia? Right. Needless to say, the world is coming to an end, and I need a buxom wench to accompany me in mowing down the hordes with my host of fully-automatic assault rifles and still-beating hearts ripped from the chest cavities of Care Bears. After everyone dies, she should be strong enough to give birth to repopulate the planet with disease-ridden incesty brothers and sisters. A deft hand at balloon animals is a must.

Place all phone calls to 985-655-2500. It will be routed and rerouted through several satellites, cell towers, landlines, and rainbow trout to prevent tracing. There you may leave a message, and the Sgt. will come and take you from your bed in the middle of the night blindfolded to an undisclosed location. We hope to hear from you soon.

~*~

I think I'll call both of them, see who I get a hold of first Maybe I'm glad to be single after all...

ZamWOW

 

It's supposed to say 'Aryan' 'cause I love blondes, apparently, and am Hitler.

TheSARGE

 

Sashay

 

'The Banhamster'

'Botanical-Brother Arius 'SPEHSS MEHREENS' Daemonis'

'Captain Switzerland'

'The Smartass'

Tyrade

 

A little banhamster once hammered his way into a space marine tea party. All the space marines squeed at the cuteness and forced the banhamster into a little dress and served him tea. This made the banhamster so angry that he invaded switserland, falling victim to their awesome army knives. The end.

Synnykins

 

Banhamster Week in its entirety.

Kidding.