Weak babies

I turn my back upon my lovely blog - this fire hose that I direct at the accumulated feces that smear the sidewalk of civilization - and what happens! Look at the posting below and see for yourself! No, not yet you simp. First wait until I am done shouting at you, then you may look. I will give you five seconds - trust me when I say that is all you will need. And.... now.

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Finished? No, don't answer me - I couldn't possibly care. I was doing that stoodge D.C. a favor when I took him under my wing, repulsive though he is. I had hoped that even one so hopeless as he would be able to catch wind of the refined airs and moods that mark the body of the genius.

Alas, he has repaid my kindness by defecating in broad, wild strokes across this hitherto unsullied space. Rhymed iambic pentameter? A hillbilly vomiting moonshine onto my bone china would not strike me as more crude. Apostrophe to Uriel? Despite his best efforts to appear as one D.C. is not a Theology major drop-out slapping blindly at the keyboard with crippled, arthritic hands. You will have to trust me on this, for his post offers no evidence to the contrary. Poetry?! Forgive this slovenly mixing of punctuation marks, but simple text is incapable of expressing the degree to which I was flabbergasted. I have said it before, and I enthusiastically reiterate myself again: Poetry is the last refuge of the effete, namby-pamby psuedo-intellectual with nothing to say. It is the impotent, flaccid output of hacks, worse, homosexuals and, almost unspeakably, women.

I would focus all my vaunted energies on taking away from women the right of schooling and literacy if I were not at the moment so preoccupied by taking away from them the vote. One small step at a time, I suppose.

I can only pray that another stint in the stocks and a swift caning will teach D.C the error of his ways.

I have digressed, and you are the richer for it, but there are other matters to be raised, and subsequently derided into submission.

In recent weeks a fresh crop of foreigners has been brought to my glittering isle on the South China sea. I must say that my excitement was short lived and quickly proven to be ill-founded. Why, these FOB's are even more moon-eyed and ineffectual than the last lot! They express surprise and contrition at everything - from the delicious pig-intestine meals that somehow violate their mores of taste or "vegetarianism", to the utter lack of knowledge of local geographical and roadside features. Infuriating! Their collective ignorance of even the simplest Hogen phrasals is enough to make a man want to spit on them, again and again.

Take this instance, embellished not a whit, and judge their crapulence for yourself.
I was, before becoming wholly disillusioned by their simpering deficiencies, impelled to guide these lambs around the island and see if their natures were not commendable to my purposes. By automotive vehicle we chose to depart, my glimmering stallion taking the lead, a tiny female's puttering cart following behind, and no sooner did we do so then did he begin to fall farther and farther into the distance. I most nearly exploded, so powerfully did my rage overtake me. There are very few things in this world that I will tolerate, and being forced to put restraint on the roaring engine of my chariot is far from one of them.
In any case, I mastered my emotions and when we, eventually, made it to our destination I demanded from the driver an explanation.

"You drive fast," she said, "You were going twice the posted speed limit."
"Of course I was!", I barked back at her, "Truly, you know nothing at all!"
Somehow from this she took offense at me.

There. Can you even begin to imagine, reader, the condition of these newcomer's feeble brains? Of this woman I will say no more, except that my hate for her grows ever more with each day!

Philboyd Snrub