Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Lord of the Flies.
I have the dubious distinction of knowing the most disordered slap fuck that has ever inflicted himself on the unsuspecting masses.
Beyond the insanity of even my mother the Barbarian.
She is far more crazy, but at least she tries to hide it.
The OTHER malcontent in my life loves to drop his pants and press the ass cheeks of his insanity firmly against the windshield of the world. Party balloons for the crazy train.
I have had the misfortune to occupy this douche bag's locus of control for over a decade. And he has been a total asswipe since day one. He is sure that any one tangentially connected to me are all in league and have dedicated our lives to the undoing of his. Never mind how narcissistic this thinking is. And that the logistics of this would prevent league members from ever holding a steady job.
He was never the least bit cordial. He presents with a pleasant demeanor about as often as Venus transits the sun. Even then, his smile is forced. His face awash with Nixonesque presidential debate flop sweat.
He revels in dispensing non-stop venom about all the things he hates in me. EVERY communication between him and the common denominator that keeps us in captured rotation begins with an inventory of the qualities that he thinks makes me a seriously damaged human being, and ends with how much he hates the way I lick stamps. The only time this person ever behaved himself was the time he needed help moving out of his apartment. So like the decent person I am, I helped, thinking it might be the beginning of some sort of friendly relationship. Yeah right!
As soon as his U-Haul crossed state lines the diatribes were back.
And I really wouldn't give a flying fuck.
But if I say as much as say boo to him, I get the 24/7 narcissistic enema and all the protests about him being attacked with no provocation. His keeping my head in a paint shaker for years is not admissible evidence in his court of one..
Like a kid hypnotically flicking his lighter as he watches firemen battling a blaze, he can't imagine that someone might see and recognize him for the erratic ass wipe that he really is. I have heard his dimwitted hate mongering for too long. He says anything he wants, anytime he wants. And I am supposed to step aside and let the big dog eat.
As if him proclaiming his meritorious conduct and virtue, while bemoaning the sad state of a world that allows a lamb like him to be led to slaughter by the likes of me, nullifies years of back biting, trash talking, and his lower than low class insults.
If ignoring his dumb ass got me anywhere, I would carry on as before. But he won't be ignored.
So if you want it, here it is. I'll bring it. I have your greatest hits compilation. Unhinged and raving. Ten years worth.
If you need me to refresh your memory, I will be happy to.
Because I....... now choose to tell the world what a pathetic one nutted loser ...YOU are.
Do you think sending me pictures of Billy Jack with captions telling me how you are going to kick my ass intimidates me?
Only a pussy lashes out at someone to run off and hide behind his mommies skirt. Man up for once in your estrogen soaked life. Don't bolster your words with ineffectual threats of police action and protracted court battles. If you could have me jailed you would.
Between your incandescent hate for me, and your suicide blog threats du jour, it is you proving to be the danger to society.
The person who came up with the word queef, had to have been trapped in the seat next to you on an intercontinental flight.
You are the unwanted air in the vagina of the blog-o-sphere.
Tagged# douchebagardly, Narcissympathy, pussydactel virus, knicker sludge