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SeanH said:
A little tip for n00bs that fancy a pop, insults only work if they have a grain of truth. Random scattergun approaches get laughed off. c.f. Ken Kraft being called a bloke.
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I'm just laughing that VA questioned you.

That is more than enough for me right now.
 
jake34 said:
Please.

You both posted in the thread I started and either directly made fun of my dead parents or laughed about it.

I also see you on the same threads all the time.

Just a hunch, fruitcake.

Besides, isn't that one of the rules of Lit?

That it is expected that you assume?
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Here's a heads up, cupcake, EVERYONE thinks you're a dick. We don't have to be affiliated or friendly to come to that conclusion.
 
jake34 said:
I'm just laughing that VA questioned you.

That is more than enough for me right now.
Click to expand...

You're very easily pleased, cupcake. I suppose when you're such a loser one must take even imaginary wins where one can get them.
 
SeanH said:
Here's a heads up, cupcake, EVERYONE thinks you're a dick. We don't have to be affiliated or friendly to come to that conclusion.
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QFT.

I think Sean's a tossed out cunt with piss for musical taste, but I still think you're a right vile git, Jake.
 
SeanH said:
Here's a heads up, cupcake, EVERYONE thinks you're a dick. We don't have to be affiliated or friendly to come to that conclusion.
Click to expand...

Here's a newsflash, Mr. Yeats.

I literally STILL don't give a flying fuck what you or your stupid uptight friends think.

Because to me, you are and always will be a want to be poet who worries more about spelling and grammar than substance.

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a post of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.
 
SeanH said:
You're very easily pleased, cupcake. I suppose when you're such a loser one must take even imaginary wins where one can get them.
Click to expand...

I think the lady's words were, "that was vile".

You gonna try to twist that around too, Uncle Walt?
 
jake34 said:
Here's a newsflash, Mr. Yeats.

I literally STILL don't give a flying fuck what you or your stupid uptight friends think.

Because to me, you are and always will be a want to be poet who worries more about spelling and grammar than substance.
h dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask
So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breacyou about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a post of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.
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hahahaha - goodwill hunting quote. can't even bitch with your own words. wank.ker.
 
chipbutty said:
hahahaha - goodwill hunting quote. can't even bitch with your own words. wank.ker.
Click to expand...

Speaking of hunting.

And of doing something active.

Come here, Mr. Butt.

Let's you and I play some baseball.

I already have the bat.

Oh, is that a ball in your hands?

Don't even need it.
 
jake34 said:
Speaking of hunting.

And of doing something active.

Come here, Mr. Butt.

Let's you and I play some baseball.

I already have the bat.

Oh, is that a ball in your hands?

Don't even need it.
Click to expand...

^ see? stick to c&p if you wish to sound lucid.

:rolleyes:
 
IndieSnob said:
QFT.

I think Sean's a tossed out cunt with piss for musical taste, but I still think you're a right vile git, Jake.
Click to expand...

BTW Sean, did I do somewhat OK with this?

It was my first foray into trying to use the sling.
 
jake34 said:
Here's a newsflash, Mr. Yeats.

I literally STILL don't give a flying fuck what you or your stupid uptight friends think.

Because to me, you are and always will be a want to be poet who worries more about spelling and grammar than substance.

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a post of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.
Click to expand...
Where did the poetry thing come from, cupcake? Last time I wrote poetry I was a callow youth pining over Julianne Regan. As for the rest of your c+p, ahahahahahahahaha! What did I say about scatter guns?
jake34 said:
I think the lady's words were, "that was vile".

You gonna try to twist that around too, Uncle Walt?
Click to expand...
Why would I twist it?
 
SeanH said:
Where did the poetry thing come from, cupcake? Last time I wrote poetry I was a callow youth pining over Julianne Regan. As for the rest of your c+p, ahahahahahahahaha! What did I say about scatter guns?

Why would I twist it?
Click to expand...

Did you just seriously use the word callow in a sentence?
 
jake34 said:
Here's a newsflash, Mr. Yeats.

I literally STILL don't give a flying fuck what you or your stupid uptight friends think.

Because to me, you are and always will be a want to be poet who worries more about spelling and grammar than substance.
.
Click to expand...

grammar i overlook

the real issue is you lack substance.
 
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