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Flying Tadpole wrote in
: After a post like that, one can almost feel sorry for the poor souls, their bodies riven by waves of impotent rage, their prepubertal minds knowing they're missing something, their fingers desperately typing crudities both of language and invention, barren of both invective and content. They hammer away at their long-suffering keyboards, seeking to validate their existence somehow, even if only in the nanosecond between the appearance of their posts and the contemptuous silences which follow them. They spawn more and more socks which only demonstrate their hopelessness as puppeteers. Indeed, it could almost be tragic, the true nature of the bunyip, for whom we once Uh, yeh. Bertie |
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