I just love how these threads fall silent as soon as I invite someone to make a list of my worst examples of "vulgarities." I wonder why that is?
OK, since no one else is willing to do so, I will. Here is my list of my favorite posts as drawn from Pig-in-a-Pokatator's list of my alleged "vulgarities." Bear in mind, these are just my personal favorites. I sincerely invite any and all of our readers to read in detail the various extracts that the Spud Head listed--remembering, of course, that there are at least four or five items (by my count) that he incorrectly attributes to me.
Yes, read them all. And then make your own list of my worst offenses against the refined sensibilities of the denizens of
The Great and Spacious Trailer Park™.
Here's my personal list of favorites:
5.I have a soft spot in my heart for snotty-nosed, shabby bastard children like Mr. Scratch and his cohorts here in the Circle Jerk Suite.
Speaking of the erstwhile “Mister” Scratch and his exploits on this message board, I once wrote a little poem:
4. Like a skanky whore with festering sores and lice crawling through her hair, Scratchy shows wherever she goes, the stench of disease precedes her.
Almost brings a tear to my eye …
I’m especially fond of my final invitation to Ray Agostini to humble himself, seek repentance, and return to full activity in the Church:
3. Why don't you just get off your habit-fattened ass and drag your broken heart and contrite spirit into the bishop's office, lay it all on the table, and begin the process? You stupid bastard! Don't you know that it's either now or later? And that it's a lot better to just get it over with now rather than waiting until the day when you'll wish you could do anything rather than be exposed to "the glance of his all-searching eye?"
2. Naturally, no one wants to be called a snotty-nosed shabby bastard child to his/her own face. That’s why I do it via message board.
And finally, in response to The Little Dude becoming increasingly antagonistic towards me:
1. We all know that you're really just a dorky-looking fat man who used to be a dorky-looking kid who wished he could hang with the cool people in high school, but was too freaking geeky to even get a date until he was eighteen-years-old. You aspire to cool, but you don't even know what it means. Cool is tossing fish food in a piranha tank and then smacking the little bastards with your fist when they rise to the bait.
And of course you'd regard my most recent work as "increasingly obnoxious." After all, you've never been averse to taking your place right in the middle of the circle, heartily pounding out an approving beat for each and every orgiastic excess. You belong here.
