Posted by Lord Spatula I, King & Tyrant @ 23:12
In the last three weeks or so, we’ve had pop up a self-important pussified little she-male calling herself the “Dog-Catcher”. And I do mean “pop up” – in the manner of a particularly nasty yeast infection.
No offense intended to yeast infections.
Anyway, the little douchebag is running a site called “Mishawatch” (ooooooooooh, how creative) – and, no, I’m not going to link to the limp-wrist; he doesn’t deserve so much as a look from The Six Or Seven Of You Who Still Read This Blog.
So now he’s trying to put the Rott out of business by kvetching to Misha’s hosting company – which, by the way, is the same great group of guys that house My Eternal Wisdom (grin) – in a half-assed attempt to get them to shut him down. This, of course, after he issued the obligatory pissing and moaning about how we right-thinkers are trying to silence those we think are idiots. Such as The Clap-Catcher, but I digress.
Anyway, our champions at Hosting Matters politely told ol’ Clappie to go pound sand. And the douchebag isn’t happy about it at all, no sirree:
I see that the wingnut is already busy gloating over his “victory” when his host rudely dismissed my very reasonable email to them. Really, “emporer”, do you honestly believe that I am going to leave it at that? I merely wanted to provide them with a chance to do the right thing voluntarily but, realizing the possibility that they might refuse, I already had a plan B in place.
So laugh while you can, puppy.
Since your “plan B” is to run down to mommy’s basement, throw yourself on your cumstain-and-pictures-of-Pee Wee Herman-lined couch and have the Mother of All Crying Jags…why yes. Yes we will.
Laugh our asses off at you, that is.
UPDATE: Oh, shit.
It’s a prank. A fucking prank. I’ve been pranked by my best friend.