Previously, Berin Kinsman at L'Avventura Games wrote:

In a recent bit of private correspondance with a fellow alt.slacker, I

came to an odd realization: I genuinely have NO problems with anyone here

on this little newsgroup known as alt.slack, never had, hopefully never

WILL. Through all of this sniping, through all the flame wars, NO ONE has

managed to piss me off to the point that I wanted to disembowel them with

a fudg'icle stick and mount their entrails on my wall. In the few months

I've been posting here, the worst reception I've gotten was to be

pointedly ignored.

 

This is particularly odd, because in "real life", I'm the most violently

intolerant, spitefully impatient, and curmudgeonly misanthrope you'd never

want to meet. You've read my rants, you should have a clue by now. If it

weren't for the fact that I'd compromise the safety of myself and other

yetisyny near me, I'd sorely love to drop the veil of schizophreniatrics,

reveal the full glory of my 7'6" yeti self to the world, and start

indiscriminately crushing into gristle the skulls of the little humans

that swarm around me like gnats on a muggy day in August.

 

Part of it is that this is MY refuge; I come here to get away from the

petty annoyances of puny merehumans and fucking pinkboys. I have no desire

to shit where I eat, the make my little nest of Slack an unclean place, so

I don't flame needlessly. And face it, the pinkest of posters, the most

heinous of "Bobbies", is still a WHOLE lot easier to take than the average

slope-brow'd piece of discount furniture walking around on the streets.

 

ALL of the little critters here on alt.slack serve a purpose OTHER than

getting in MY Bobdamned way, causing traffic jams on MY highway, sneezing

my MY salad bars, chewing on MY slippers, or polluting my airwaves with

ADULT CONTEMPORARY LIGHT ROCK. Even if the only real reason they're here

is to have their souls SUCKED OUT for FUEL on X-Day so that the rest of us

can get the fuck outta here, they have the WORD O' "BOB" in 'em, Dobb

bless their wee pink heinies. Our highest law is "FUCK 'EM if they CAN'T

TAKE A JOKE", but even the most annoying maggot in our rotten little slice

o' the cyberspace pot roast GETS the joke to a certain degree, even if

most of 'em don't TELL it very well or can't grasp the cosmic SCOPE of it

all. The might not KNOW the SKOR, but they can graps what a SKOR IS, or

might be, and have a relative understanding of how it fits into their

lives.

 

"But Uncle Bear", I hear you saying, "even chimps can learn to

rollerskate. My dog can be taugh to whiz outside, and parrots can be

trained to repeat inane catch-phrases. None of THEM really understands

what they're doing." And that, my babies, is EXACTLY my point, triply

underscored and highlighted with A BIG FAT MARKER!!! I crack the FUCK up

every time I see my dog roll over in hopes of getting a treat. I LAUGH OUT

LOUD whenever a Scientologist or Televangeslist opens his fucking MOUTH to

spout rhetoric. And I almost MAKE MYSELF SICK with DELIGHT when "Bobbies"

work so hard to prove their "Subgenius-ness" by quoting doctrine or

getting confrontational. Because it only shows that we ARE superior. They

don't see that there's no difference whatsoever between themselves and any

other trained animal. They can only repeat what they've been taught, and

have no capacity for original or creative though. They SO want to either

impress us and let them join us, or try to prove that THEY are RIGHT and

WE are WRONG so that they can somehow feel superior to us, but in the end,

they're still trained animals, performing happy tricks for our amusement.

 

So, as superior beings, we can be gracious. We can be polite. We can make

pets of them, and care for them. Because they can be trained to hate the

CON, too. They can contribute to the war against the CON. And the enemy of

my enemy is my friend.

PRABOB!

-Rev. B.E.M. Kinsman, "your beloved Uncle Bear"

--

Berin Kinsman torque@indirect.com

Publisher, L'Avventura Games

http://www.indirect.com/www/torque/lagames.htm