Not only did I get a couple of nastygrams, but the authors of such actually took the time to find my e-mail address! That's some dedicated ire, right there.
To the HotMail author who decided to take me to task regarding my post on "Booby Blogging" and what that post revealed about my views of women and personal relationships:
Darlin' -- and I write that with as much condescension as is possible to heap upon one small word -- the thought of actually clicking on the links described as "boobies" and "tits" never entered your pretty little head, did it?
If you had, you would have discovered that the link for "boobies" goes to a short video of a nesting pair of blue-footed boobies.
Those are a kind of bird, sweetie.
Likewise, "tits" is a link to vid-cam footage of a nest of fledgling blue tits -- also a kind of bird.
Not only are there no mammaries, boobs, breasts, or sweater kittens in either video, there is a completely appalling lack of the female of the human species in whole, or in part, in both videos.
These are visual examples of the kind of low humour known as "puns". I'm sure that as soon as your seminar on sexist oppression lets out for the night, someone will be able to explain "puns" to you.
Bimbo. (Or himbo, let us not be sexist here.)
To the Gmail author who has decided that I hate Muslims:
Bite me, you insignificant posing hack. If you're a muslim, then I'm the heir to the throne of Ankh-Morpork. What you no doubt are -- besides a boil on the arse of humanity -- is a mono-synaptic, pimple-faced, uber-veggie, hemp-wearing, deodorant-avoiding, eco-conscious, midget-zipper-trout with delusions of adequacy; currently attempting to defend Islam because it's the cutting-edge, ultra-speed, radical-chick-attracting thing to do these days.
If you had truly read my posts at TFL -- other than the one necessary to get my e-mail addy, you brain-damaged baboon -- you wouldn't be stepping on your own wedding tackle in front of strangers.
Tell me, do: Isn't your mam getting a little tired of finding you on the front porch, face-down in a wad of chewing gum, and you with that terminally confused expression on your face?