Weird. That’s the second comment of mine you deleted. It’s almost like you were happy to pick a fight with me on my blog and make light of the fact that I almost committed suicide. But now that you’ve realised I’m not the ‘crybaby’ you thought I was, you’re deleting comments and running for the hills. You’re a weak piece of shit Phil. You were all too willing to play the bully, but now that you’ve realised that you’re the bitch in this situation you’re clamming up.
For someone who talks about putting on their big boy panties it didn’t take much to upset you. I called you old and irrelevant and you’ve gone silent.
Make sure we don’t cross paths again. Stay off my site, and I’ll stay off yours. Otherwise I’m going to tear you apart, over and over and over again.
Enjoy what’s left of your pathetic existence you decrepit old fuck.
Jesus. People read this shit? Sad really. You’re a talentless hack with a chip on his shoulder. Next time you come to my site and talk shit, make sure your own is a fucking snooze fest. (I liked that one)
I’ve read stories by third graders that are more concise than this rubbish (the period was missing)
Wow. What a heap of shit. Show me brilliance I the face of adversity. You’re a fraud who calls himself a writer, and a pathetic human being.
Terrible blog. Truely terrible. (Truely arrived like that)
Yours “truely” – Chris Nicholas
Now, if you’ve followed this little saga I have not once insulted the artist or his creation(s). Belittled his demeanor or maturity (or distinct lack thereof). I have wondered aloud why the forward to his autobiographical romance novel apology to the woman who broke his heart is the same as his blog and how the two year love affair with that heartbreak is starting to look like a marketing scam. To me. No one else need agree. If anyone has a hard time with that, read his blog ruminations and the forward of his book. They are genetically similar.
I chose to shunt this garbage off to the trash where it belongs. But, not being a thin skinned, weak piece of decrepit shit or some big mouth’s bitch or fearful of words or the threat of physical violence over the internet I will give it the air it deserves. Stay upwind. The real creative genius is exposed in the cheap “personalized” pot shots and vitriolic responses above.
Were I to bother with a response to this, as a creative and fictionalized effort only, I might start off –
“Here’s the deal, Junior. I was getting paid and hanging Addy’s on the wall when the best part of you was running down your retarded two-dollar over medicated crack whore Momma’s leg. Your insults are plebian, your threats empty. Judging by your track record it’s a good thing you tried to write a happy ending because the only one someone as angry and bigoted as you will ever find is in a Travolta style massage parlor or handful or creme rinse in the shower.”
However I left all that on the table. His insults to me and age in general provide no reason to go down the same “well, you’re so ugly…” path.*
As Mr. Nicholas finds his words so valuable I will put them on display for him. For the last time. This discussion is closed, the hate mongering over. But perhaps his words of age bigotry, threats of violence and general hate should be shared with any and all potential publishers, available here, any time.
Age is the great equalizer, the great revenge. It’s coming for all of us, nobody gets to dodge it unless they go coward. Therein lies the real humor of this little skirmish. For the record “almost” only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, all else is merely posturing.
*There was an old blues thing we used to riff on, The Ugly Blues. No telling where it originated, but it went like this, sort of –
Baby baby baby
I dunno what I’m a gonna do
Cause baby I done looked in the mirror
And I am ugly down to my shoes
But baby baby oh baby
I doan let it give me the blues
Cause baby oh my baby
You be so motherfuckin’ ugly too.
Silly, huh? You bet it is. Next.