Well, there are two possibilities. One would be that those posts he puts less effort into are not just unreadable, but never actually reach the internet- they are no better than random strings of characters created by Minotaurus randomly flailing at a keyboard with some chance bodily appendage (I’m guessing foot, but take your pick). Luckily for us, these incomprehensible assortments of Cr@^zy l£thTe|r(S are actually being entered into MS Paint, and when Whinotaurus thinks he’s hitting “submit”, he is actually pressing the Power button, plunging his computer into darkness and sparing the readership of the SDMB from having to try and pry logical argument from another mess of gibberish masquerading as a GD topic.
That’s the first possibility.
The second possibility is that those posts- the ones he puts less effort into than his usual, finely-crafted, heavily-varnished and carefully-thought-out piles of steaming arsecheese- are so bad that they are physically harmful to read, and might cause a weak-willed SDMB member to collapse into a bleeding heap, suffering severe skin failure as their eyes attempted to pry themselves lose from their sockets and flee, screaming (can eyes scream? gurgling, maybe) into a dark place far from the hateful bile that flows from the diseased “mind” of the retarded cripple an unkind god created and a terrified world christened Minotaurus!
Ahem. Fortunately for all of those of us Teeming Millions who value our precious, precious eyeballs, the hardworking hamsters toiling within the labrythine bowels of the Straight Dope headquarters (almost certainly located in the Vatican Archives, although some believe the Bermuda Triangle, Area 51 or an anonymous Chicago Starbucks to be more likely) detect the presence of this hideous data threatening the ocular integrity of thousands of innocent Dopers- indeed, it would be hard not to, for such is the pure, mind-numbing evil of these posts that the electricity itself used to convey them is twisted into bizarre, non-Euclidean shapes, screaming as it is forced down bright copper cables that corrode at the very passage of an unclean demon-post the contents of which have only passing ken with the universe as we know it.
These noble but doomed hamsters then leap into action- with molars of resolve, they bite deep into the poor wires carrying Minotaurus’s post, sucking its cthonic malevolence into their tiny, self-sacrificing rodent bodies. Piling furry carcass upon furry carcass, the heroic hamsters blot out the very memory of the post’s existence from the universe itself, neutralising its diabolic influence with a Cricetinaen blood sacrifice unheard of in the annals of history. The cables that carried the shit-spewings of the monster Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken are severed from the machines that surround them and, along with the pile of poor, dead hamsters, are carried from Earth’s atmosphere by Cecil himself, to be fired into a black hole which will, perhaps, contain the hideous, unknowable secrets those mammals died to protect.
And that’s where server outages come from.
