WELCOME TO THE THUNDERDOME!!!

[Rotwang]

OK, you've waited patiently...you've bought your tickets, popcorn and tissues...!!!

[Blurt]

Get out of this thread, wankers!



So here we are, in a tag team flame match.



For those of you unfamiliar with King Martini (or with puffed up, metrosexual clowns more generally), a short introduction will set things straight. So to speak.



In listening to one of his inane warbling and chirping marathons on Spreakr (should a lapse in judgment take one down that dark path), one would think the King believes he has more subjects than he has toes. Painted toes, I might add—a fact that explains both why his better known handle is Poofer and why his current squirt-tart is rumoured to be able to slap that Valentino mustache off his face just by unzipping her fly and swinging her bony hips around like an anorexic ballerina on shard. But more about Dove's penis in a moment.



Do not be fooled, folks. King Martini is anything but regal. No regent woos a future queen at Starbuck's, no matter how many cigarettes he's willing to give her over the course of twelve minutes. Martini is no king. He is a barfly barman who, at the end of the night, nurses a cocktail (or cocktails a nurse—the accounts vary) while counting his nickels and dimes, hoping that this night is the night he'll finally be able to bot his way into Fortnite. Or, at the very least, win a game of Pong. We can only wish him luck. Or even a good fuck.



Which brings me to Dovey, Mistress of Camel-Flavoured Condoms, Missionary to those heathens unfamiliar with the glory of the Missionary position. What is a gal to do when she frowns upon abortion and her two-bit beau would rather die than sport a rubber? The obvious answer, of course, is that she can wear the latex herself. She has the equipment. If only she could use it appropriately, Martini would be mercifully silent for a spell.



And what of nursing? Nursing requires the ability to tell the difference between Gaviscon and Gabapentin, an ability she lacks given that her nursing experience is limited to playing an NPC in the hospital level in Silent Hill 2. But all is not lost. I hear she's learned the difference between Heineken Light and hydromorphone. It'll make her Saturday nights easier to manage. And her patients more compliant when the straps and stockings come out. Healthcare with a twist of lemon.



These two lovebirds have chosen to make their romance the stuff of bad reality TV. The best one can hope for is to find the damn remote before Martini pops the question and Dove pops a damaged vein.

[Bricktop]

OK, nice one, compadre!!!



Following on from your sharp and perceptive analysis of our opposition.



King Martini...a barman, and Dove, a nurse. They seem to be an ideal pairing.



Tipjar Timmy gets paid to facilitate the filling of bladders, Bedpan Annie is paid to facilitate emptying them. United by urine, which is convenient. My esteemed partner and I will enjoy taking the piss out of them.



Dove's christian beliefs also gel nicely with Martini's vocation. She believes in turning water into wine...he believes in watering down the wine. On a sadder note, it is no secret that Dove was once using deleterious drugs, but to her great credit was able to overcome her addiction and break the habit. Regrettably, she has relapsed and is again within the grip of a slow working dope named Kevin.



To be honest, I was surprised that Martini threw his hat in the ring, dragging his squeeze with him.



One would have thought they would have little time for such frivolity, what with him slaving away all day popping caps off cheap beer bottles whilst diligently eyeing the tip jar slowly filling with pennies...all the while hoping to hear those three sweet words ("keep the change") and she hauling a steady stream of creamy steamers in bedpans from ward to washroom, only to come home to their newly created extended family...a cross between the Brady Bunch and the Addams Family, I'm told.



Nonetheless, despite their handicaps, they've bravely stepped up, so let the mayhem begin.



First blood to the Cashew!!!

[Anonymous]

So, Im like waiting around for these two to like, draw some sort of "First Blood" in this showcase and all I get are a healthy heaping of N00btella spread by Blurt and some fanny patting cheerleading by Dickflop.



First off, Mr. Flop, lemme just say ill play along with this whole façade you have and act like I don't know who you are. It works out better that way and even better for you, you can run and hide from everyone after all is said and done. Just don't forget your password, mkay? Your damaged goods to the point even a recycle center isnt touching you with plastic gloves but don't worry, you always got the Cashew here {rolls eyes}



Now, a Quote/reply post, you nimroids get only one from me.

OK, nice one, compadre!!!

Like really? Is this the way you want to enter a flame match? You only have five posts and you want to conjole this mini moron into posting again? After all the forehead slappers he produced and has been backpeddling the damaging "buts imz the n00bz" Ford Pinto backfire already on two separate forums? Hes already in over his sloped head and im ready to drop the goggles down and slalom his pride with the technical precision of Tomba in his prime. Rah-Rah and all that noise, he needs it now and will need therapy when this is finished.

King Martini...a barman, and Dove, a nurse. They seem to be an ideal pairing.

Think so? So, I guess this means we have your blessing? Thank god for that, it be a shame what some mangled forum refugee thinks about the personal interactions of others who post alongside him thought if it was only bad, but I degress. Its shocking, to some, that ppl actually live close to each other on these forums and meet up and like each other. I mean, shit happens. You wear a mullet and Blurt looks like Kenny Rodgers after all the plastic surgery fuck ups and you don't see me using that as material....yet.



Hello!! My names Kevin.

Tipjar Timmy gets paid to facilitate the filling of bladders, Bedpan Annie is paid to facilitate emptying them. United by urine, which is convenient. My esteemed partner and I will enjoy taking the piss out of them.

Lol wut?

You want us to piss on you? You will "enjoy" taking the piss out of us? Where should I aim? You know, if you just want to hold my dick, just ask.



But then again, as a former cop, you actually benefitted from my occupation yourself. Drunk and disorderly prolly was your department and nothing says "protect and serve" like putting some kids behind bars for having one too many. Srsly, how many nights did you ruin arresting adults just out looking for a good time? Im not talking about the beligerant assholes, im talking those who had a couple that you shoved into a drunk tank for no other reason then you could. Id bet prolly a lot.



Did I mention I hate cops?

I was surprised that Martini threw his hat in the ring

That's funny, im completely shocked you did, I mean, with all the baggage you carry amongst these types of forums, but fear not. I wont subject the readers here into the lurid details only because...I really don't need to. Your too big a pinata to slap around hanging by a tampon string choker and proudly wanting yours truly to piss on you. Seek help there, Dick. I know your into some fucked up shit and all, but....

tip jar slowly filling with pennies

Who the FUCK tips pennies? Are you really this backwards, you kriss cross wannabe? You name one bartender who takes pennies as a tip and doesn't throw them back then the person who tipped them that out the bar and ill say you are fucking lying.



See, bartenders have more power then cops. We make more money, get a better class of females, and we can ruin your night a hell of a lot quicker and with less effort then putting a pair of handcuffs behind somebodys back. Don't believe me? Tip pennies and see what happens. I can go up to a cop and call him a piece of shit and wont get in trouble because of free speech, say it to a bartender, and not only do I kick you out, but chances are, your getting beat the fuck up on the way out the door as a bonus.



It's the money thing, huh? Its really not my fault. I have a charming personality that complete strangers throw money at. Im like a stripper. Whoops, Dovey, didn't you used to strip too? Its like this shits been played out already and Dovey and I can flame ourselves better then this folly thrown at us so far. Im really not trying too hard and can flame myself better then this drivel I have to work with.



Chops? Gifs? A cartoon? Maybe?



Now, for Blurt.



Blurt, ill be nice since you're a n00b and all;

Get out of this thread, wankers!

No, come back!!!

This bullshit has to get better or ill lose interest quicker then Dickflop running to perform naked CPR on Blurts dying corpse. Mounting his attack, I guess....

Painted toes

N00b mistake #1

https://stomping-groundz.com/index.php?topic=4819.0">https://stomping-groundz.com/index.php?topic=4819.0



Don't post about painted toes when your toes are just as painted.

I got a blowjob out the deal, what you get beside ridicule?

barfly barman

Ive never worked at a place shitty enough that accumulated barflys. And for somebody who has listened, obviously, to my podcasts, you should know this.



Wait, that was a flame? Woah Vicky, such a burn...smmfh

counting his nickels and dimes

Two posts, two "Poofer makes change tips" nonsense.



Tell me, why would anybody work for change? What bars do morons like you frequent? Do you tip change? And if you do, why?



Facts- I made more money last year the Dovey, who is a nurses aid

And more money then Murdoch, who is a para legal. You guys are acting like lightweights already pushing the envelope nowhere and here I am acting nice about it.



Now Blurt, do better. Because this is as easy as ill go moving forward. And if you don't know, ask around.



This was your freebie. Try to keep up.

[Blurt]

Oh, my.



Okay, first things first, give me a moment to wipe all this typo-spittle off my cheeks and nose. Can I borrow that polishing rag for a second? Much better. Thanks.



So, Martino wastes a post by posting waste. He puts down the rag long enough to go on the defensive like a mewling tween whose fap sock was just unearthed by his mother. I guess "No, me!" is marginally preferable to "No, you!" He makes more money than a bedpan changer and a secretary? While this may be bad news for bedpan changers and secretaries, it's even worse news for the souses who leave his bar only to discover their wallet has gone missing. And what's this? Crossdressers paint their toenails? Oh, say it ain't so. I'm happy you got a blow job for allowing Nurse Wretched to prettify your piggies, but I really wouldn't want to know what you must do to actually get laid. I hope for your sake it doesn't involve Oestrogen and silicone injections. Or trimming your eyebrows even further. Dove, bless her little Christian heart, is obviously aiming for an Emasculate Conception. Also, the last thing we need now is a Queen Martini podcast. Oh, and Five-Oh bad? Mean cop be mean? That another burn? Up your game, son. Everybody already knows everybody hates cops. Be original, man. I know you can do it. Some people other than you have said so.



I'm truly astonished that you managed to spend half your post droning on about yourself. While this may be the norm for one of your cricket-factory blatherfests, it just won't do in a flame match. More surprising still is that, despite your massively inflated ego, your  melon hasn't yet burst and your forehead is still half the size of Dovey's. Of course, this could also indicate that she's twice as smart as you are, but she's religious, so I doubt it.



And where is our dear bird? Is she cowering somewhere under a pall of smoke? Afraid to join the fray lest she get knocked sideways before she has a chance to get knocked up again? Seems the Prophetess of Prophylactics has better things to do than to get fucked by a newbie. Perhaps she's busy tending to some real-life drama on some forum or other? As it says in the Bible, "where your heart is, there also is your meltie."  Please, Mr. Martini, do invite her to these proceedings. As is clear to all by now, you're only half a man without her.



Finally, be aware there's no need to hide your ineptitude behind the claim that you're going easy on me because I'm new at this game. You're not fooling anyone. You're going easy just because you can't go hard. You don't have it in you. And neither does that pigeon-toed squawker whose feathers you've managed to ruffle. And, by all means, do go find and then cite supporting materials outside this forum for your matchstick flares instead of facing us head on. I promise you I won't think too much less of you for doing so.

[Bricktop]

Partner, consider yourself "conjoled". Now, I know what you're going to ask...but I have no idea what it means, either. Perhaps it is one of those new American words, like "aiiiight" or "s'up". Or, it may be indicative of someone who's knowledge of the English language is lacking, which of course makes him ideally suited to spend his day pouring cheap liquor to mumbling drunks.



Kevin, you may not be aware of this, but there is a web service called Google. Before you commit your ignorance for the entertainment of us all, try using it. For example, you might have searched for "taking the piss", and thus avoided furthering displaying your ignorance, to wit;



"Taking the piss is a Commonwealth term meaning to take liberties at the expense of others, or to be joking, or to be unreasonable. It is a shortening of the idiom taking the piss out of, which is an expression meaning to mock, tease, joke, ridicule, or scoff.[1] It is not to be confused with "taking a piss", which refers to the act of urinating."



Proving yet again, you don't have to be half witted to be a bartender, but it helps.



On another matter, I am drawn to the photograph you display in every post you contribute, for the purpose, presumably, of demonstrating some kind of salacious relationship with Bedpan Annie.



This image is disturbing on a number of levels, not the least of which is the fact that the victim of your forced attention is clearly discomforted by you compressing your face against here like a limpet on a jetty pylon. There is a look of genuine concern on her face, exacerbated by the fact that you are in a car and she is in the drivers seat. So intense is your ardour that you have dislodged her gas station sunglasses.



The whole picture smacks of someone trying VERY hard to convince the other he is either in love, or is in desperate need of a blowjob and negotiations are not going well...reminiscent of Hugh Grant and Divine Brown. I'm guessing you grabbed a handful of pennies from the tip jar before she picked you up from the topless joint you work in, hoping they would seal the deal and she's just not into coins. She does have four mouths to feed, after all.



Oh, and as you asked...which of your clients tips in pennies? I suspect all of them, if the level of service they receive is equivalent to the level of articulation you've thus far demonstrated in this contest.



I hereby "conjole" you to try much, much harder.

[Blurt]

Welcome to Day Three, folks.



The Opposition is struggling. Their team is one half no-show and one half poor show.



And yet we must soldier on. Everybody wants to win a King Martini coffee mug. I certainly do. It'll come in handy as a barf mug when I sample the other two treasures on offer from the same source, the King's bathwater and photos of a naked Dove (assuming the cup isn't delivered in pieces, that is). A mug, Poofer juice, and shots of Nurse Bettie Page. Welcome to "Two Girls and a Cup" 2.0.



Now, I have to give credit where credit is due. Beertap Barney here knows how to tantalize the masses. Half his online time is spent encouraging readers and listeners to stay tuned, the best is yet to come. But first, a toast to his greatness. A round of Harvey Dovebangers on the house! See? He's even nice to folks he wouldn't normally touch with a 5' pole stripper. But here's the problem, Dirty Martini: you fail to come clean. A Poofer puffing pomp is not nearly as interesting as, say, a Dovey selfie in which she demonstrates her window-licking prowess. You can pull your tongue back in your mouth now, Dove; Martini just had his Oxfords shined yesterday and he's already taken a dump this morning. Now where was I? Oh, yes. The man is a king when it comes to promises, promises, but, ask him to deliver on those promises and he suddenly turns into a hooting court jester. He has all the credibility of an organ grinder's monkey with a bad case of diarrhea. Sure, he leaves his mark everywhere, but it's nothing anyone would want to step in even once. And what of Dove? Seems she's too busy grinding her monkey's own organ to provide him with a tag team wheelchair, or at least a crutch. That's just plain bad healthcare. She must be American.



We're halfway through this match and what, exactly, is Martini up to? He's busy elsewhere discussing the subtle differences in wage scales between bartenders, bouncers, and lap dancers. Poor man can't see the forest for the trees; wages don't matter when you're part of a collective of pricks and twats whose sole function is to help other pricks and twats publicly debase themselves. And the organ grinder sez: yep, you pay peanuts, you get monkeys slaving for you. It's the way of the world, don't you know?



So how about it, Dovetini? How about you two melded ponies pry yourselves apart long enough for the bedsheet stains to crust over, long enough to drop by and say hello? The two-backed beast can surely wait, no? Delegate, if you must. Get someone else to count the pennies and change the bedpans for a very little while. Come on in, the door's open. And Scouse is busy tenderly frisking females at another venue. He won't stop you.

[Bricktop]

You have to laugh at these SG folk

Their performance so far is just shy of a joke

It was Martini himself who threw down the glove

Threatening our demise through him and his Dove



But she's seen the light and decided to bail

Their efforts so obviously destined to fail

But wait, a new partner for King Chug-A-Lug

His bird has flown, but he's recruited a "thug"



Thuglife or Joodog, a punk by any name

Fancies himself as a master of flame

But if he wants to achieve a better result

He needs to do better than slur and insult



For a few months now, Thugs been part of our crowd

Saying very little but talking quite loud

Why he joined our group is hard to figure

Maybe by posting here, his balls grow bigger



He seems especially drawn to your humble scribe

It's because of me that he's joined our tribe

I'm still a legend that draws a crowd

At nearly 70, it makes me proud



So c'mon, Joo-boi, let's see what ya got

It's time to shine; your turn in the spot

Make us laugh with your wisdom and wit

Try to offset Martini's vacuous shit



Don't wait too long, Thuggie...another day's past

And your team is sitting on it's malodorous arse

People are saying that you're a pair of fakes

Despite a big noise, you don't have what it takes

[Biggie Smiles]

ladies and Gentlemen, Friends and Footstools, and to the rodents and repugnants on the dollar tree version of a tag team. Hello.



Rejoice! For the king of Kindness has finally arrived. And with me, I bring gifts of laughter, entertainment and interest the likes of which you are just not seeing out of the two fantastic spastics who had to stick word generators up their assholes for three full weeks before opening day just to feel like that may have a shot at this.



Right. So lets have a look around at what mish & mosh from the two muppetiers have been gumming the place up with thus far.



Blah blah blah blah... what do you think of my word of the day toilet paper... blah blah blah blah... painting toenails like utter fucking spastics with bedpans glued to the top our heads ..... yada yada yada... let's see how long your eyes stay propped open with toothpicks while I dehydrate a google thesaurus in lieu of being funny...... la lal la la....





Ok. I'm bored. You suck. And it's time for both of you to get rolled up into a sleeping bag in a 69 position  and pushed over a tall overpass unto unsuspecting drivers below.



First off, as a tag team, your names alone rake ridicule, and tell me the only funny moment in your whole gimmick will be when somebody in big clown shoes comes along to push you two mental cadavers off the stage with a big Nerf fist fastened to the end of a broomstick.



In the red corner we have BrickTop & Blurt!!?!! Yeah, that works, if you happen to be promoting these conjoined clusterfucks of abject failure as the AARP version of Beavis & Butthead vacant any of the comedic value.



Sigh... why do I sign up for these things with vermin who cant even meet the minimum threshold required to gain acceptance into a circle of cretins?  



Let's roll back the tape on some quality BigSnot gems. Shall we?

him slaving away all day popping caps off cheap beer bottles whilst diligently eyeing the tip jar slowly filling with pennies!

Pennies in a tip jar? I'm sure Martini already raped and ravaged your puppet shaft over that one. But Really? What kind of low budget & condemned dives which serve ammonia & cough-syrup cocktails in paper dixie cups do you call home for 22.5 hours a day?  



I'd wager a better than 80% chance that the entrance to such a place is at the bottom of a urine scented staircase and the only way you can get in is to come tumbling down a full flight involuntarily with a boot print on your back just to make sure that you're the right kind of degenerate sleaze that finds a tip jar on a bar counter acceptable in the first place.



One has to wonder if, after you pass out, you're mated with local livestock on Facebook live just for shits & giggles in a pub that keeps a tip jar on the bar counter.



God dammit you foul odored Under the bed dweller, that's some real spazzing in 22 directions right there. Next you're going to be marveling us with a stroke of personal genius by calling for the placement of peanut bowls at the base of the men's urinal

 

Well ok spasticus, that's busting a lip on your own kneep cap number one.  



Common sense 1, pillow top -5000

 

Moving right along.

BugLife

Whoa there Captain Cretin don't go packing too much of a wallop into that wet noodle swing. You may end up with a portrait of a grizzly bear in your diaper and then orderlies will just end up kicking your paper ass again.



So i bug you huh? I'm honored truth be told. But I must ask. Is this "Bug" you speak of a bug in the context of you frantically clicking on the red button yelling ""NURSE"" with that rasping mewl which steadily graduates into a hollow howl because I'm playing soccer with your E-rep and she's ignoring you as usual hoping you suffocate in your own vomit while she types "lol" to photos of dead cops on Instagram; Or is it the kind of "Bug" that turned your blood pressure reading into what looks like a Chinese takeout menu the day I came along and robbed you of your imaginary status as king shit of a forum you were hoping to turn into TheBlueCreepShow with your runaway narcissism? I mean, dude, you've thrown some real hissy fits of quivering red rage across two mults ever since I got here like I was that recycling machine you loathe down at Stroke & Croak which keeps jerking you on 5 cent soda can returns.



Just sayin



I would just hate to be behind you at a Walmart check out if you find an expired coupon in your pocket, buddy. That's for damn sure.

Oh know wait. You're trying hopelessly to insinuate I'm insect. How delightfully original!  Thug! it rhymes with Bug, and to the chronically shallow it just seems like a match made in your mama's basement.



I get it.



Only, nothing screams getting the shit trolled out of your dry chimney stack like an elderly mope with a vast overbite and haystack hairdo zig zagging around his basement apartment in slowwwwwww motion trying to keep pace with a bug like this were a scene out of the slow and awkwardly furious.



Hey, look over here Grandpa, I've got my thumbs in my ears and all 8 of my other fingers are dangling. Come and get me! I'll take a two-hour nap right here which still leaves about 25 ft worth of odorous basement terrain to slipper moon walk across in your four wheel Volkswagen walker before you start to see a woman named Edith's face appear in the clouds calling you home because there's no one to play bingo with in heaven.



If I throw a quarter in the tip jar while I'm here will you drool all over your dirty bathrobe for me?



Lol.



And what's this talk of extracting urine out of kidneys for personal pleasure? Ammonia showers may be some big thing where the changing of underwear is performed on one's birthday exclusively, but here, in the greatest nation on earth that type of shit is abhorrent.  Especially when its an elderly man with a full feces fetish doing the requesting. Now you know



And you're a bit of a poet I see.



Well



fee fi fo fum

tell us all why your breath smells like the crotch of a bum



Here's me hoping that brushing your teeth becomes a trend

but until then

at least see if you could try Making Altoids Great Again

He is a barfly barman who, at the end of the night, nurses a cocktail (or cocktails a nurse—the accounts vary) while counting his nickels and dimes,

You too with the tip jar? What's with this toilet mole tag team and basement bars where rubbing alcohol is served through gum ball machines? Christ. How do I find myself here weed whacking forum flora like big burp & half cock when all they can do in return is provide creepy poetry and tipping etiquette for disease riddled hovels where the only use one finds for a bar of soap is to slap it around in a open space with the business end of a hockey stick?



Smarten up Princess Ferret Fur. You're in a flame match now. And following brickworm face first into failure is no way to make your first debut



Anyway, your public display of a two-man fist pumping & slow moving locomotive  aside I'd like to ask you a few questions while I'm  giving your earlobe a wedgie with one hand and pressing that Kenny Rogers mug up against the foot locker with the other.



Is that ok with you, Pin Cushion?  



Blurt. Is that "" blurt"" as in that creamy looking Elmer's glue substance filled with mutated sperm that spawned you or blurt as in you think big yellow birds are really fucking cool and you want to be one if you ever happen to grow up?



Wait, before you divulge dont forget to put on the gas mask while you're being mounted by BirdCock just so I'm extra sure the two of you should be locked in a closet somewhere deep in the earth that can only fit one degenerate wasteoid at a time.



Also, Ursula, can you tell me a little more about the days you spent in lipstick and heels breathing heavy over the little mermaid's shoulder because she was prettier than you? Were you jealous? Did you ever come to terms with the fact that you were born a man and

have an ass crack that looks like a stunned cat when you try to thong it up with a g-string? I mean, seriously, no man is going to be turned on by a Brazilian bikini that looks like a burrito in the mouth of some Duck Dynasty looking spastic.



And the 5'oclock shadow on a set of twin chins doesn't exactly inspire wood either.



Next question. Have you ever thought about riding a skate board in heels? If that's an idea you'd like to add to your bucket list promise to cam and post it? For shits and giggles?

Nice play-

Wait. What's this disturbing development? Oh dear. You just received an endorsement from Benzo. BEnzo. This is a guy who can trace his genealogy back to chlamydia without the help of an online service you know. He is the undisputed master of message board mulch and Forum filler extraordinaire.



This is a bad omen for you I'm afraid.



To drive home my point in both your pillow tops let me put it to you this way. Have you ever had a flat tire and tried to use that shit repair foam that comes in a can?  That's benzo. He's the version of worthless that works out and picks on other forms of less capable worthlessness



I hold my hand over my heart when I tell you, that this is the kiss of death for any flamer in a match. Because, as any credible flamer will tell you having a vampire suck your life blood out via a Slurpee straw drove deep into your left testicle is a preferable option to receiving a stamp of approval from that empty beer can dispenser.



Time for you guys to cancel the after party. This match is now over.



The only question that remains is whether you two can get a refund for the party mules in fishnet and double sided dildo rentals.

[Bricktop]

Holeeeeeee shit.



I mean, what the fantastic fuck!!!



Buggie, this is a flame exhibition match. It is not a short story competition, nor is it a demonstration of how much hyperbole you can employ to say "you're old" and "you play dress ups".



However, never let it be said that I do not bestow credit when it is due; I do believe that you have just developed a cure for insomnia, without the use of dangerous and addictive chemicals. That tome was as soporiferous as any known narcotic. Half the members of this forum are now face down in their keyboards, deeply dormant.



What happened, short pants? Did you take a massive snort of cocaine before confronting your computer to begin typing? Once you started hitting those keys, your testicles swelling with every keystroke, you just couldn't stop, could you? Did Ringo's famous quote from "Helter Skelter" come to mind when the keyboard finally fell off the packing crate you use as a desk; "I got blisters on my fingers"!! Did you feel like the drunk who tried to take a sip from the spitoon...once you started, you couldn't stop because it was all in one strand?



Son, flaming is to ENTERTAIN. Not to demonstrate your prowess at offering 5th grade level insults directed towards 3rd graders. You get points for originality, and there's not an original thought throughout that turgid, vomitous and odious opus you've just inflicted on an innocent audience.



Let's examine some of your offerings. "Bigsnot". "sparticus"(sic). "Princess Ferret Fur". "Pin Cushion". "Ursula". "Brickworm". "Birdcock". Have you no mercy for the poor souls that are condemned to read this infantile repartee? Did Martini recruit you merely to try and make his shit look good?



If so, he amply succeeded. Do you feel special because he tapped you on your bony shoulder when he could have engaged Joe, or SeaMajor, or even Oak to achieve the same effect. By any measure he was the most effete and impotent contributor to this spectacle until you arrived and promoted him from last to third. Good for you, Poo Dog (is that how it's done?).



Let's finish with a limerick, shall we?



Joodog and Martini came to flame

It soon transpired they had no game

Bricktop and his partner Blurt

Applied some fierce Blue Cashew hurt

Sending them running back from whence they came.



Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

[Blurt]

Well. I'm not quite sure how to repond to Joo's drivel wall. Someone pass me the Pepto-Bismol and the anthrax, will you?



I had a notion to simply respond "tl;dr" but I'm not confident that the perpetrator of this insipid Hoover Dam of words is smart enough to not claim this retort as a surrender rather than as what it is, an exhortation to recognize in brevity the soul of wit. By that standard, then, this man is witless.



Setting aside the fact that, as the end draws nigh, the only contributions by our opponents so far are quote/reply posts (which I'm sure they see as proof that they don't stoop to posting pre-writes rather than as proof that they have zero imagination and zero creativity), I have to say that, at least they tried their very best.



In reading the mangled and frazzled paragraphs in Joo's post, one must conclude that Joodog poo smells no better than Poofer poo. That being said, I guess we should be thankful that it smells only marginally worse. Bonus: the now dried up turds dropped in this thread earlier this week by Rex Martini are still so pungent that Herman gave up barrel wash in favour of Poofer poop doobies. And there's Herman over there, by the side of the barn, taking a long pull, slowly exhaling, and then exclaiming, "Man, this shit is good!"



But I digress.



Now Joodog (also known in some square circles as "Biggie Banhammer") seems to be under the impression that good flaming is a matter of quantity over quality. This is called the Borscht Belt School of Sizzle; fire enough dopey material out into the audience and at least some of it will stick. Makes me believe that Joo learned how to flame by watching syndicated reruns of Dean Martin's Celebrity Roasts. Or by diligently studying any Don Rickles television appearance.



Really, be serious, Biggies. Your contribution here sounds like a cross between James Joyce and Andy Rooney. It's almost as if you threw five different 1000-piece puzzles in a garbage bag and then, lovingly pulling out the pieces one by one, somehow managed to get them to all fit together in a haphazard order reminiscent of the best that stream-of-consciousness literature has to offer. No, I'm not talking about Rooney here, but the other guy.



All this being said, I'm truly happy Joodog chose to take a break from licking Murdy's balls and sniffing out assholes on other forums long enough to grease us with his presence. Well, "presence" might be too strong a word for someone who's not allowed to get on certain rides at Disney World, but you know what I mean. Which brings a thought to mind: if he is to be believed, and if the sausage selfie floating around Flametown is genuine, shouldn't Martini be the one we ought to call "Biggie"? That would seem apt. Of course, his current flame will neither confirm nor deny the penile tumours. Sorry, rumours. But I kid. I'm thrilled to witness Martini falling head over heels in Dove. I mean, she's got the room. And Martini, you know I love you, man, but you need to grow up. A height of 5'6" would be good for starters, lest you also, like Biggies, become but a morsel in the mouth of all these gals on the forums who seem to be lusting after miniature men with overwrought egos. Fact: psychological compensation works best with a Corvette. You should try it. Audis are for people who know how to tie a Windsor knot.



Finally, a word on words. Listen, Joo, I appreciate that you're no fan of big words. I mean, as you've demonstrated above, why use big words when meaningless hoots and grunts will do? After having subjected myself to your post up there, and having to wipe typo-spittle off my face for the second time this week, I implore you (or, in the Martino vernacular, I "conjole" you) to, at the very least, log off Lipstick Alley long enough to head to Google to confirm you understand how to use a word before you use it. I cannot stress how important this is when you're trying to, say, write something. (Kudos to Martini, by the way, for having recognized his limitations and having opted over the past several months to express himself through aural media... a drone is more painful to bear than a poorly constructed paragraph, but I claim a win as I have no apps on my phone designed to combat insomnia). So, yeah, words. Get acquainted with their use, Biggie. They'll remain friends for life if you do. Forget the thesaurus. Bricktop's got that covered. A grade school primer will do.



Son, I am disappoint.



P.S.



Don't ever refer to my "first debut" again. I'll have you know this my seventh debut.

[Blurt]

[Bricktop]

So long partner.



A pity they couldn't hang around for the celebrations!!!