‘Hooked on Phonics’ only justified your laziness.
You chafed as ‘Ebonics’ was renounced as a sound and viable inclusion into the curriculum vitae of the school systems—and you attend a private school in Brentwood that easily accommodates the profusion of Beemers and modified rice-rockets clustered in the parking lot like some clumsy Goliath spilled his box of aesthetically-pleasing prophylactics.
School and autos courtesy of Pop’s Perpetual Pockets.
And after your days of regurgitation you speed home to your P3800000 with the 590GIG HD and your PENULTIMEGA GOOGLEPLEX Vid Card and your KLAXODRUMBURST Sound Card where to strive to achieve the apex, the brass ring, the coliseum and the upper echelon all rolled into that adjective you wish could replace all other descriptions of exaltation:
“1337”
Leet.
Your days at school consumed by obsession, you conjure up new means of killing:
Yes, with the hackneyed skill of the seasoned Barbarian, you contrive new means of slaughtering a language without remorse, leaving a chaotic swath of disjointed participles in your wake.
Yours is the language of the ‘h4X0r,’ tinged with the arrogance of the kept.
The pseudobabble of the cyberchildren nursing at the surrogate mother’s digital teat.
When I ask you why you use this means of communication, you reply ‘d00d stfu.’
I ask again. You reply ‘rofl, stfu fag.’
I remark that sharing the line with a 12 year old is always refreshing.
You say ‘OMG d00d ur so gay IM a frosh in colege so stfu’
I ask you why, if you are educated, you use this terminology.
You offer ‘ROFL I jus t4lk th1s way onl1n3, fag’
I see.
Your effusive derogatory spume continued to scroll across my screen as I soundly defeated you. You told me I was ‘gay’ because I took advantage of the fact you spend more time concerning yourself with flooding the server with your cleverly contrived witticisms and shot you point blank at the base of your skull.
You only improved when you finally stopped talking.
I hoped you would learn something from that.
But the time came when you surprised me and dealt me a killing bullet. You filled the screen with ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA’ and began your self-aggrandizing bowel-purge anew, building your walls up with every keystroke.
Living in a house of manure will draw attention in many different ways. Unfortunately, very few of them involve appreciation.
You will have the company of beetles and flies who gather about you, feeding off the properties of the medium you’ve chosen.
Ultimately, the gas will kill you if you don’t make your way out the door.
I saw one of you the other day. How did I know?
You actually said ‘LOL’ while laughing at something amusing.