"Lady Pilot" wrote in message

Yes, it's infested with netkkkops. All admins take note! hahaa

The true infestation is your type: those too pathetic to fight their own
battles, rather relying on attracting all sorts of 'insects' from the fringe
of Usenet. This used to be just a ****ty NG. Now it's a worthless, ****ty
NG, thanks to you.

Tell them about the disappointment of one user morphing and sending
mulitple complaints like katywails.

You really are monofixated with Katy, aren't you? She really got under your
toenails in a major way, eh? You need to get past that if you have any hope
of having a life beyond ASA or Neal. I know he eats this stuff up like
chips and salsa, but then again he likes jock itch and underwear that rides
up in the crack of his flaccid, sagging ass.

Of course we know where that line in the sand is drawn, Steve's, PJR,
Burnore are great teachers! (Don't feel left out if I didn't mention your
name...)

The only thing they teach is 'how to be seriously obnoxious with no
redeeming social value whatever.' You've been a terrific student. You will
undoubtedly graduate magna cum all over your face.


Dear admin,
This group isn't capable of knowing how to killfile. Please draw a
picture and buy them a vowel. They are top-posters in alt.sailing.asa!
Does that give you a big clue? ;-)

Why should that bother you? All your mentors (see above paragraph of yours)
are top-posting POSs. And oh yes, thanks for finally learning to spell
"post."


Sheesh! You expect me to educate a bunch of truckers, rednecks and band
performers to understand protocal? LMOF

What is "protocal?" Is that some sort of diet drink? OH, did you mean
protocol? Silly me.

"LMOF"????????" Loving my obnoxious fart (Neal)?

Destroy it, they are nothing more than whining baby sailors, at least most
of them.

Most of them ARE sailors. You are not. You are little more than a sorry
excuse for a simpering jellyfish, unable to fight your own flame wars
without the help of the likes of the top-posting, cross-posting trash you
invited over for dinner, but who, for the most part, now refuse to leave.
If only we could drown them in the post-prandial brandy . . .

The ones that are silent are the real sailors...

So what are you? You are neither silent or a sailor. Oh wait, I think I
know what you are. Never mind.

Bull