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Pity the Pudgy Ponce
salahx@earthlink.net writes:
My picture was lifted from my homepage and put on your page. I did not give anyone permission to do so. I would like my picture removed AND the link to my e-mail address.
Your picture and text were sent from your own e-mail address - so either you've had a change of heart, or you've been spoofed. Judging by the wit of the contribution and you own lack thereof, it's probably the latter.
Anyhoo, we've pulled your photo from the page ("The Shallow End of the Dating Pool") and swapped in another - it's not like there's any shortage of fat, ugly losers out there, and yanked the "mailto:". Merry Christmas.
I do not consider it funny.
Two thousand people a day would disagree. Last month alone, that would make 59,999 people who laughed their asses off - and you, who doesn't consider it funny.
Thanks ever so much for sharing your opinion.
Do you know who posted my pic?
As we said, it was sent in with someone with brains enough to spoof an e-mail address - so even if we could tell you who did it, what would you do about it? Charge unarmed into a battle of wits? Ask them for a date?
I'm sick of getting picked on.
Here's a sure-fire cure for that: get a life.
Seriously.
You can't douse youself in gasoline, flick your bic, and expect not to be immolated. Likewise, you can't post a picture like that on your home page, along with a truly pathetic, vulgar appeal for some "female" to come and save you from you parents' basement so you can leech off her for life, and expect not to be "picked on".
I just want to make it clear to them I will not take this.
Ah, but you will. It's your destiny.
Five years from now, when you've finally finished the two-year curriculum at the community college and landed that big job as a network somethingorother at the local paper mill, even the minumum-wage trailer-grunts who run the sluice hopper are going to look down their noses at you and sneer in disgust.
Sorry if that sounds cruel, but rejection - or revulsion, in extreme cases such as your own - serves a purpose: it clues you to the fact that you're on the wrong path. It's a subtle hint that you really need to find some socially beneficial role to fulfill.
Of course, you could huddle in your own putrefaction and wonder what's wrong with the rest of society, and you'd continue to fulfill the role of the pariah - the guy kids point at when you go the the Seven-Eleven to stock up on Cheese Whiz, giving them that extra urge to do well in school and make something of themselves so they don't end up living in their parents' basement wishing someone would pity them enough to save them from their pathetic lives.
Ta-ta.
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