I was puttering about on a nice little Saturday morning, when my Inbox started exploding.
Turns out that I may not be as low-profile as one might have wanted because the subject of the previous post has apparently found my little scribblings:
"Your profile goes up today. Look for it and check out my reply to Bud Helms too!"
Because I am, by nature, one who likes to have others understand why I do what I do (and because you -- quite frankly -- are too much of a cully to figure it out on your ownsome) I will tender some sort of explanation.
I don't like you.
You are one of those annoying little caitiffs who believes that any PR is good PR, and so you have Lindsey Lohan'd your way through the gunny side of Blogworld, trailing slime in the comment sections of prominent bloggers as you shout, "Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!"
I have little doubt that you think this spastic display of bile-spewing is cutting edge! Cool! Unique! Nobody's ever seen this before!
Much as I'd like to pat you on whichever end might be considered a head in your species, put your little macaroni-picture of a web-site up on the side of whatever rock you were up-chucked on by whatever nauseated gastropod donated your genes, before telling you how cute and how smart you are -- I can't.
You are an oiksome opportunistic little parasite who has decided that he can get something -- fame, money, a sheep that won't file rape charges, whathehellever -- from the hard work of others.
I don't like parasites like you. Others in Blogworld state that they hate parasites like you -- but hating something requires that the person doing the hating give a tinker's damn about that target of his hate -- and I really couldn't be arsed in your case.
I don't hate tapeworms, and I don't hate you. I don't hate ringworms, or flukes, or pinworms, or leeches, and I don't hate you. Because hating you, just like the rest of your parasitic buddies, would require a level of caring about you that I simply can't muster.
Oh, I've little doubt that you've probably already posted some cutesie-poo little insulting profile of me (that is, let's be honest here, more about you standing on a table and shrieking, "Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!" than actually insulting me, but I digress), and I'm sure that somewhere there's a village that's just ecstatic over that accomplishment.
I'm still not going to your web-site, because I'm not going to feed the latest Internet tapeworm (that's you, by-the-by) who's hoping to sponge off of the gunnies on the Internet.
In the unlikely event that you've managed to make it this far through my post, I'm going to reiterate that you DO NOT have my permission to post any of my intellectual property beyond the minimum allowed under the Fair Use statutes; and that you DO NOT have my permission to use any of my intellectual property for your personal gain.
Toodles, child. Here's a pork-chop necklace. Go play with doggies. Somewhere else.
postscript: Yes, little tapeworm, I deleted your comment on the other post that inspired this one. And I tagged you as 'Spam', so that any further comments from you will go right down the Internet khazi, like the parasite that you are.
Nothing but love,