I was going to include a sample of the grief heaped upon me by the little people of other blogs; you know, the ones that disagree with me, or the ones that don't think I shit strawberry ice cream; in other words, the clueless dregs of society who've yet to give in to what their higher cognitive functions have been trying to tell them. There's really only one opinion necessary in this world, and that of course is mine, so posting the detritus that tries passing as wisdom would only confuse you, dear sycophant, because YOU know full well how amazing I am and wouldn't understand anything remotely resembling criticism directed my way.
And I rarely publicly thank anyone for anything, at least not in any manner that could be even loosely construed as a heads-up, way-to-go, sort of thing, but I'm going to break ranks with myself for this one time, and this one time only, because certain cretins have cast doubt upon my ability to do anything other than whine and complain. So, taking a deep breath, here goes:
Since it's nearing Mother's Day, thank you, Mom. Sort of. You really could have done better, just take a look at my siblings, but since I turned out so wonderful I do suppose you might have had some small say in the matter, so thanks for giving what scant love and affection as you could summon given your obvious failings.
See? And there are those who would aver I am heartless, insensitive, and so full of myself as to be nearing absolute meltdown.
They ain't seen nothing yet.
The above is not intended to resemble any person, living or dead, and if you are led to believe so then stop reading you-know-who's blog, get a life, and it really wouldn't hurt to take stock in who you are spending your cyber time with.
8 comments:
What has Steve H done now?
Help me out here...
Email me. I'm still confuzzled...
Me too. I'll catch up with you guys later I gotta scoot out or here earl.
Hopefully you were joking about your mom or you're beginning to write like Proust who said there is nothing more cruel than a mother's love.
T'wasn't I, dear sir, who penned these tainted words.
And I adored Juliet Prouse, but that's neither here today, gone tomorrow.
In answer to your query, Lem, I had noticed over at Bad's blog that Steve had gotten in dutch with the blog Fuck France. I'd of course never heard of FF, but it sounded like as good a name as any to name something so I clicked in and sure enough, page after page of vitriol directed at Steve.
I no longer check out Hog because I consider an ego of that size to be revolting, and do strongly believe that the man needs professional help. Can he be humorous? Sure. But the me-me-me-everyone-else-is-beneath-me is not only tiring to witness, but too sad as well. I wish all aspiring writers well, but a book on how to scam poor Nigerians isn't going to do squat but wither on the vine, and what THAT'LL do to his gargantuan ego is beyond foretelling.
I agree 100% and I would add prissy to the description.
Notice how easy it was to figure out who it was.
Prissy. Now there's another cool word.
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