Do You Like It?

Coward (noun)

1.One lacking courage, regarded as fearful and uncourageous (backstabber, stalker)

2. Bully--somebody who attacks or harms people too weak to defend themselves usually (psych.) to feel better about themselves

3. Anonymous Enemy--someone who anonymously attacks others, usually using an alias



This is probably a stupid move, but I really don't care. I'm good at that, not caring. You know, I have some friends, cool people that say nice things and are cool to hang out with. It's good to have those friends. It is.

I've written a few stories and sure, some of them have been published. I wrote a novel and it's under second review. That's pretty cool, too. I'm glad about that. And it's good to be glad. It is.

But...moreover what I have are a bunch of cockroaches running around acting like their God's Gift to Everything. Most of them, you ignore, they go away. That's good. It is.

However, there's one special fucking tick on my balls that I just can't seem to remove. Robert Clyde Ericson. He says he's a Sergeant, and maybe he is. Kind of funny that a soldier would waste his time bopping around the internet talking trash to people. He likes to tell them "Wakey-Wakey!" Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean.

If we're all so asleep, asshole, why don't you wake us up? After all, you think you're God. You keep asking me "What do you do when you wake up a God?" or "What do you do when a spider whispers in your ear?" and other such nonsensical garbage. I am just sick to my fucking teeth of this goddamn ridiculous pathetic little twit acting like he's some sort of...damn, I don't know what. When I was on MARSocial all I ever saw him do was bibble-babble and bounce from here to there talking shit about people's work. Sometimes a poem came out but there was no way--NONE--that he wrote it. The shithead can't even spell.

Now that I'm not MARS anymore, he continues his little game on my blog, in the comments. His little charade. He calls me egotistical. I'm not. Sorry, but I'm not. If I was, I'd do what he does, bounce around and talk shit about everyone's work. Oh, don't get me wrong, he can fake it for awhile, but in the end, his true colors come out and he starts writing things like--literally--HEY BOOBIE BLARG HONK SNARGLE! (Oh, wait, I fucked up. I actually spelled those nonsense words correctly.)

I mean HEY BOOBIE YOU POP THE DICK OUT YOR MOUTH I AM A VET I DONT LIE I WILL GET YOU WATDO U DO WHN A SPIDER WHSPRS IN UR EAR

Bored yet? I am.

So, I'm writing this in the hopes that he'll go away. Chances are, he's MARSocial's bitch, some asshole who goes around needling people trying to draw them out by their temper to make sure no one but the administrators get ahead in life. Or writing. Maybe. I do know for a fact that he has (or she, really, he once called himself a she-wolf) about six or seven personalities running around in his head...or its head. Hard to tell. I guess it depends on the day.

So let's get to what might be stupid to say. Am I a fuck-up? Yes. Have a more or less ruined my life? Yes. Have I fucked up a lot of good relationships? Yes. Do I feel like I'm a good writer? Sometimes. Do I really think I'm a genius? I don't know. I test well. Others have said as much, but I'm not going to go all Kanye West on the world. Do I have a huge self-esteem? No, not so much. I hold my head up because what the fuck else is there to do? Cry? Fuck that. Do I have regrets? Yes. Who the hell doesn't? Anyone who says they don't is either fooling themselves, pulling a spoof for fun or just a downright shit. Am I afraid to die? No, I'm not. What the fuck is there to fear? Ultimate peace? Everlasting sleep? I'm not going to kill myself but if someone wants to come along and give it a whirl, fine. I'll meet them. My self-image, for those who know what that means (what you think others think of you) is complete shit. After so many folks have called me a joke, well, maybe I am. I feel a little like Eminem at the end of 8 Mile when he goes off on that Papa Doc fuckhead. He disses himself so hard that Papa Doc has nothing left to say. I'm taking a cue from that.

Yeah, Clyde, I'm a failure, I'm broke, unemployed, struggling, striving, I know what I am, it's up to me if I decide to tell your dumb ass who I am and how I feel, I've been a petty criminal, I have been locked up, no, I'm not a Vet, but my Uncle Mike did die for this country, so I really hope you're telling the truth otherwise you're a disgrace to the uniform. My father's a psychopath, he did drive nails into me but I'm not going to cry about it, in fact he did worse and I'm not going to cry about that either. My sister is a mean fucking bitch--I think you two would get along--with two wonderful children and I have no fucking clue how that happened, but it did. My temper gets me into trouble and that's on me--not you or MARS or anyone else. If I want to think you and your little cohorts are petty, puerile cunts, that's my prerogative. If I want to tell my readers on my blog, that's also my prerogative. You might be some big shit on MARSocial, but you're nothing here. Nothing but a fucking gnat. If you really want to hurt me make good on your threat to come to Elgin, "Sarge". I'm not going to run from you. You're not scary, you're just a buzzing bee--BZZZZZZZ as you might say.

As you can see from the above definitions--pulled from this book called a dictionary, something you're in dire need of, you fit the bill. In all three categories, Mr. Viking Elf, Stewed Ant, et cetera. As a matter of fact...wow. There are so many out there who hide behind a mask or a cartoon character. Why? Anyway, this isn't about them, it's about The Viking Ant Stew or whatever fucked up, ludicrous moniker the coward is using these days to bully people at--I assume, not guarantee, but assume--the behest of MARSocial. I could be wrong, but the proof points in that direction.

Either way, regardless of employ, he is an uncourageous bully hiding behind a mask.

Or, on a more personal, crude, and blunt note, which The Galavanting Cunt will better understand:

Who then now, bitch? Do you like what you see? Is that good enough for you, fuckface? If not, well...you did say you were going to "pop my thick skull" on your way to Iowa to beat up your brother who I don't know but probably doesn't deserve it. Come pop it. I'm not hiding. I'd rather die than be a coward, you motherfucking insignificant squid.