Hi drm,

es wird Zeit, daß ich mich hier mal vorstelle.
drm lese ich seit einem halben Jahr, hin und wieder
meinte ich auch, mich postenderweise äußern zu müssen.

Das wird bestimmt mehr werden - wie man dem subject entnehmen
kann. Aber zuerst mal über mich:
Der Rheingau ist mein Revier (auch offroad), meine BSE heißt
Dominator und meine Squid-Punkte verdanke ich dem Umstand, daß
ich mich bei meiner ersten Fahrt (20.03.97) mit besagter NX auf's
Maul gelegt habe :-)
Von daher an Steffen, Detlev und Andreas - wenn einer aufm
Feldberg vergißt, seinen Seitenständer auszufahren und deshalb
Dominosteine-mäßig alle nebenstehenden Moppeds flachlegt - das bin
ich!
Außerdem bin ich uralt - GRR scheidet schon fast wegen Über-
schreitens der Altersgrenze aus, eigentlich sollte ich wegen meines
angegriffenen Gesundheitszustandes auch mit den Strobls unterwegs
sein. Das haben die relativ langen Federwege meines Moppeds bisher
glücklicherweise verhindert - erst umkicken, dann huppert's (danke
Volker und elwu).

Jetzt zum subject (hat lange gedauert, ich weiß).
Es macht mir immer einen Heidenspaß, von den kunos, tjanochas,
denbaeckern und ähnlichen KKAL [tm] zu lesen. Dazu muß ich ein
brutal langes Zitat loswerden, überflüssigerweise noch dazu in
englisch.
Hört mal hin, ihr KKAL, was heekster in rec.motorcycles zu Euch
zu sagen hatte:

If brains were gasoline, you wouldn't have enough to ride a moped down a
driveway.  If brains were intestinal methane, you wouldn't have enough
to do a one-cheek sneak.

Stick your head in your floppy drive and  type "Format a:".

Your intelligence is a Kronecker delta function which spikes at the
value "moron".

I'll bet you couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were
on the heel. You are a canker.  A sore that won't go away.

You are a fiend and a sniveling, back-boneless coward, and you have bad
breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved.  I feel debased just
for knowing you exist.  I despise everything about you.  You are a
bloody nardless newbie twit protohominid chromosomally aberrant
caricature of a coprophagous cloacal parasitic pond scum.  And I wish
you would go away.
You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit.  You are a spineless little
worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a
cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench,
a revulsion, a putrefaction, a big suck on a sour lemon with a lime
twist.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared
richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth
into this world.  An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody,
abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and
then killed themselves in regret for what they had done.
I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same
species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at
the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut.
Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing.  You are
a weed, a fungus, a ferment, the dregs of this earth.  And did I
mention you smell?  

If you aren't an idiot, you made a world-class effort at simulating
one.  Try to edit your writing of poorly thought-out material before
attempting to impress us with your insight.  The evidence that you are
a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able
to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little twit.  Would that a hawk pick you up, drive
its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to
fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink
shame of your ignoble blood.  May you choke on the queasy, convulsing
nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid,
nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an
ignoramus.  Monkeys look down on you, and laugh.  Even your own hand 
refuses autoeroticism.  You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for
attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important
statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us?  What
fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted
tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat,
spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh.  You have no rhythm.  You are ridiculous and
obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living
emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a
disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you're a half-wit.  You remind me of drool.  You are
deficient in all that lends character.  You have the personality of
wallpaper. You are dank and filthy.  You are asinine and benighted.
You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow
wherever you go.   You are not even worth an original flame.

You may join your intellectual peers in my twit filter.  This means that
I find the lack of intelligent content in your posts, so embarassingly
painful, that I can no longer tolerate such lackwit effrontery.

I know that you will make another utterly banal, incompetent attempt to
show us all how, cool, witty, charming, sophisticated, clever, and
intelligent you are.  It will not work.  I will not see it.  You are
hereby banished to the Phantom Zone of Netuse Stupidity, for all time.



und einen schönen Tag,

Peter

PS: Übrigens: ich war auch mal bei AOL, aber einen Dschobbr führe ich
nie :-))

~~~~~the further we stretch, the higher the sky
~~~~~it gets harder, the harder we try
~~~~~the faster we run, the longer the road
~~~~~the stronger we get, the bigger the load
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