This is what some illiterate bags of pus consider reasonable debate:
This might explain why this Christina Hendrix bitch is dead, If I had to hang around idiots like that, I’d fucking die too.
Yeah, I said that, I meant ever fucking word of it.
You’ll pay for that, you filthy piece of shit. Promise. Take it any way you like, I don’t give a fuck.
Backstory: Randy did a post critical of Chuckles — only mildly so, really — and Chuckles responded, quite reasonably, in fact, in the comments. Then he went and crossed a very dangerous Rubicon by viciously and despicably attacking my wife, who had nothing whatsoever to do with any of it. I left a comment to the scumbag’s revolting post strongly (and, of course, quite profanely) suggesting he think very seriously about apologizing. The scumbag responded via e-mail, thusly:
sure, you pull the posting about my Blog. and I’ll pull the posting about your wife.
Otherwise, get bent.
I responded with this:
You stupid cocksucker, neither I nor my recently deceased wife had anything to do with that post. It was put up by a co-blogger.
On your head be it. Don’t think it’ll just go away. It won’t. You’re scum. And scum like you always gets theirs in the end.
I ain’t saying another fucking word.
Which he replied to thus:
Well sir, it is your Blog. You should be more responsible for the content of your Blog. You knowingly allowed one of your writers to take a damn potshot at me, and I took one back. Can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen, nothings sacred with me. This is the wild wild west and there are no limits. But the fact remains is, your “co-Blogger” started it and I finished it.
Like I said, pull the damn post and this shit will be over.
Just that simple.
Notice that? He gets called on one of his publicly published opinions by a co-blogger here, attacks my dead wife — who, as I said, has nothing whatever to do with any of this, being, you know, recently deceased and all — and then snivels and whines about people “taking potshots” at his poor widdle punk ass.
Oh, and he’s got a lot to learn about “the wild wild west,” too. You sure you want “wild wild west,” motherfucker?
What a contemptible pussy. I took one more shot at schooling the reprehensible twit in the rudiments of civility, or as close as I could come to it through my blind rage, quoting his own obnoxious spew back to him in the middle:
You see someone express his own opinion about you, respond by insulting a dead woman that had nothing to do with it, and then have the gall to whine about somebody “taking potshots?”
But the fact remains is, your “co-Blogger” started it and I finished it.
That’s where you’re wrong, bucko. Don’t bother responding, it’ll just go straight out as spam. I’m done talking.
The last word from asshole-eyes:
so, am I, you can go fuck yourself, you asshole. You started, I finished it, dick wad
Oh, but you didn’t, fuzznuts. Not hardly.
This waste of (a lot of) flabby flesh has crossed a line I take very seriously, and now it won’t be over until I say it is. Oh, and for further background: Chucktard is a fat pussy who lives in Detroit with his Mommy and Daddy, and hasn’t worked since 2003 because mean old George Bush won’t let poor widdle Chucky-Ducky get a job. It’s all readily available on his lonely little website, which you can go dig up for yourselves. Here’s a picture of the worthless cunt, also from his own stinking cybersty:
And with that, the time for words is now well and truly past. But like I said, it ain’t over until I say it is — no matter how much this vile, sniveling worm might end up wishing it was.