The Art of Posting

EXHIBIT A

Howdy! I'm Bob, the big amorphous blob and these are my chronicles.

I guess I'll introduce myself here. First off, my name isn't really Bob. I don't even have a name. People always used to ask me who I was, and I'd simply say 'blob' because I didn't really know how to answer that question. They always misheard me and thought I said 'Bob' so I just stuck with it, since I figured it was as good a name as any other.
Secondly, I'm a big amorphous blob. Here's a picture of me some gawker took while I was waiting for a bus. Handsome devil, aren't I?

Greetings, beloved parishioners!


It truly warms my heart to see so many of you here again. I was afraid that I would have lost the trust of my flock after last week's debacle, now commonly referred to as the “Chunky Butter Incident”. As I already told some of you and the kind police investigators, there is a perfectly good albeit slightly unplausible explanation for what happened and I think it is best to just leave it at that.

After all, it is of no importance how I lost my clothes and exactly what I seemed to be doing to the church's organ. The only thing that really matters is the unshakeable faith we have in our Savior.

For is it not He who guides our path and illuminates our thoughts, so that we may make the right decisions?
Is it not He who gives us hope when all seems hopeless? Is it not He who extends His dexterous hand to swipe away our enemies when defeat is surely looming?
My friends, I ask you, what is the light at the end of the tunnel, but the sparkling of His Glorious Earring?

Pray with me.


Oh, Ma Jae Yoon,
you're a really nice dude.
You show us how to win
and make us feel good.
Please crush our opponents
and save us from disgrace
so that we don't switch to Protoss
the Godless Easy Race.
Squeeze the life out of Stork
and make Flash look like Lomo.
I'll gladly suck your dick,
P.S. (no homo).




Now, my Zerg brethren, on to today's sermon. I'm sure all of you followed the recent Blizzcon coverage with suspense in your eyes and moisture in your pants. We sat and watched how Savior, our Savior, tore through the competition with about as much effort as it takes a fat guy to sweat in a sauna. Then, we waited with bated breath for the interview, for that holiest of moments when the Divine Zerg would communicate with us.
And lo, our Maestro did speaketh!

And how He did speaketh!

His Mutaliskness, with His boundless micro skills, saw fit to momentarily abandon his native tongue to regale us with a message in English. A message of beauty it was, a message of hope and a sweet promise of heavenly justice.



I'm going to destroy everyone, ok? In 2009.




As I am among friends and fellow believers, I will be completely honest. I literally shat myself.
As the viscous product of my bewilderment slid down my leg, I felt pure elation, as I'm sure all of you did. This feeling of pure joy, however, did not last. A few moments later my eyes wandered across several TL posts so vile, so heretic that joy turned to disbelief and disbelief turned to anger.
I held my peace at first, remembering what He Who Uses Defilers In A Boner Inspiring Fashion once kind of said, and I paraphrase: “Just because you have a Hive, doesn't mean you should research Adrenal Glands right away.”
Alas, the blasphemy continued, and now I can keep silent no longer.

My cherished congregation, I cannot even begin to put to words how it pained me to see certain people, let's call them idiots, somehow believe that what His Delicious Zergness actually said was ”I'm going to destroy everyone again in 2009.”

...

This, of course, is WRONG. One could argue that it makes more sense syntax-wise, but one would be a faggot retard.

All of you realize that this kind of insult to MJY, and by proxy to us, cannot stand. We will find the heathens and we will menace them until they either see the error of their ways or succumb to our zealous floggings.


WHO'S WITH ME?

Meet this girl. The girl is B O O N .

Boon's eyes are B L U E . Boon's skirt is G R E E N .

Adventure time for B O O N !





What a good day!

"Hello, sun!" says Boon.

The sun is Y E L L O W . It fails to R E S P O N D .





"Hello, neighbor!" says Boon.

The neighbor is W H I T E . Hello, Boon!





Where is the adventure? Boon knows!

Boon goes D O W N T O W N .

Adventure is there.

"Hello!" says Boon.

The man is G R E Y and S L E E P Y .





Loud B A N G S . Boon knows this sound! Do you?

It is F I R E W O R K S . What a party for Boon!





Quelle M I S E R E !

F I R E W O R K S on Boon! The blood is R E D .

Ambulance! Help this Boon.





Boon heals. What a good luck!

The D O C T O R is N E R V O U S .

A needle was B A D .

Boon has the A I D S . What a bad luck!





Boon is M A D . Her white blood cell count is L O W .

"A gun, please. And bullets! Can I pay later?", Boon asks.

The gun control laws are L A X . Boon is A R M E D .





"Hi, how can I help?" says the desk lady. Her B R A I N S are S O F T .





What an adventure! The sheep S C R E A M .

Boon is playing tag. You are it.





"Click!" says the gun.

"Freeze!" says the police man.

"Hello!" says Boon.

The doctor fucked up. No A I D S for B O O N !





Boon did a bad thing. She is just a baby.

The parents must P A Y .

Bye, mom! Bye, dad!

Now every day is adventure time.

Greetings, constituency!


I am here with you today to announce my candicacy as President of the United States. Seeing as how Ron Paul, a man who probably thinks of computers as just another type of portal for Mexicans to seep into our world, could get this much Internet endorsement, I figured the amount of support you would bestow on one of your own would be enough for me to become leader of the free world.

Now, I may not be a doctor, or a Southern Baptist minister, or a mayor, or a governor, or a senator, or someone who has any experience in politics whatsoever, but... Well, I forgot where I was going with this. Never mind.

The point is, I know what you want and I know how to git 'r' done. Just in case you're one of those weirdos who like rational arguments, I took the liberty of compiling a list with my stances on several important issues.



IMMIGRATION

My stance on immigration is a darwinist one. I propose that, rather than build a wall to keep our sombrero bearing friends on the right side of the border, we construct an intricate maze with various puzzles, traps and complicated riddles. This will ensure that only the very best and brightest make it through to contribute to our great nation.



Almost there, hermano!



HEALTH

I'm a huge fan of health and I think everyone should have health! I have consistently shown my support for health, except maybe that one time I accidentally drank two bottles of scotch and an ambulance came to pick me up, I yelled either "Fuck health!" or "Fuck help!", I have trouble remembering which one it was.

...Anyway, since pain is health's biggest enemy and painkillers are pain's biggest enemy, I propose we supply everyone with weed. As the old saying goes: "Smoke weed every day keeps the doctor away."
Of course, we would need a considerable amount of free space to build facilities in which to grow such vast quantities of weed. I propose we locate these facilities on the Bible Belt, because Fuck The South. The few individuals affected by this forced delocation are welcome to go live on the dark side of the moon.



WAR

I oppose the current war in Iraq because I oppose unfinished business. Don't get me wrong, I support our twenty-year-olds shooting potential terrorists (babies). I simply feel it's not right to start on your dessert when you haven't finished your potatoes yet. These potatoes may be moldy and vaguely reeking of wet dog by now, but by golly, I intend to eat every last one of them. You know these potatoes very well, for they are... Vietnam.
Yes, I am talking about The One That Got Away. We need to go back there and finish what we started to show the world that we can win a war of attrition against tiny men in trees.
Since we haven't actually been there in the last three or so decades, it's safe to assume Charlie has taken complete control. This means every inhabitant should be regarded as an enemy combatant and be treated as such, even when they might seem cheerful and come bearing gifts. They are a tricky people.



Happy children, or crafty bomb dolls? Do not hesitate.



ECONOMY

I'm not much of an economics man, but my advisors keep telling me that we require more vespene gas, need to build more overlords and don't have enough minerals. Therefore, I propose we get more. Free market, big government, common sense - these are just words to me. If we simply get more of everything we need, I don't see how anything could possibly go wrong.
I call this system More-onomics. People always start giggling when I say that, but I bet they're just jealous.



Why is everyone always saying "more-onomics indeed"?




Well, that's about everything I think about everything. I very much hope I have been able to conquer your heart and mind (and I don't mean that in the way gangreen conquered my grandpa's heart and mind). I'll be running as an Independent because I'm no longer welcome in both the Republican and the Democratic Party, after I got confused and mixed up at whose banquet you're supposed to eat a live baby.
If all goes well, I'll be your next President!
The first thing I'll do when I'm elected is get rid of the whole voting thing, in order to protect the only good decision you people are likely to make in your entire lives.


See you in the Oval Office,


the #1 President

Hi!

I'm sure most of you have already heard the news: Activision merged with Vivendi Games (Blizzard's mommy).

Because I'm a pretty important guy in the world of economics and mergers and large numbers and stuff, I managed to get my grizzly little paws on this otherwise top secret message, sent by Activision's board of directors to the loveable company we all have a borderline obsession with, Blizzard Entertainment. It was written in what appeared to be blood on a thick leathery, smelly piece of paper. I guess they really needed that merger if they didn't even have the money to buy proper office utensils!
Anyway, I got bored so I copied the contents to this blog. You have absolutely no business reading it and I'm pretty sure it violates some privacy laws, so whatever you do, don't read it.





Here's a cool pic to distract you so you don't read that thing a little farther down. What thing? Don't worry about it.




PRIVATE MEMO
FROM: ACTIVISION
TO: BLIZZARD ENTERTAINMENT
CONFIDENTIAL - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE


Hey kids,

We're your new daddy! Ha ha, just a little Activision humor for you. It's exemplary of the laid back, buddy-buddy atmosphere we like to cultivate over at the ol' A-V headquarters. It can't always be fun and games though. Sometimes it's time to talk business, like now for example. I know you guys have been hearing a lot of talk about 'merging' and 'combining', but let me assure you that this is about as much of a merger as the 1939 German invasion into Poland was an invitation.

There will be some changes in your daily operations. We have taken the liberty of compiling two neatly bulleted lists. One contains general changes, while the other one contains a few modest modifications we would like to see to your upcoming hit, Starcraft II.
Obey, and you will see that we are kind. Disobey, and... well, you're probably familiar with the popular "Saw" movie series.



GENERAL CHANGES

• We don't know which deity you used to worship, but now it's Satan, Lord of All Darkness. Every full moon, you will sacrifice a virgin in His honor. We're sure you have plenty of those around, anyway.
  
  
• The following phrase will be uttered at least five times every day by every employee: "Man, Activision sure is cool." There will be no exceptions for weekends or holidays.
  
  
• There will no longer be such a thing as "working for Blizzard" or "not working for Blizzard". There will, however, be such a thing as "working for Blizzard" or "death".
  
  
• We will send a construction team to fit your office buildings with various traps and holes which you must cross by swinging on a rope. This will be the only path to your work area. Failure to complete the course in under 20 minutes will result in death.
  
  
• Your Christmas bonuses will go up 20%, but we can assure you it's dirty money. Very dirty money.

• The Terran must be replaced by Tony Hawk. Tony Hawk can perform various cool skating tricks like Ollies and grinds.
  
  
• The player must be able to also select his opponent's buildings and be able to produce or cancel units in them as he deems fit. Multiple Building Selection will also be in effect for this feature.
  
  
• To appeal more to the growing female demographic, the Zerg Broods will mostly consist of pretty ponies, baby bear cubs and butterflies. Kerrigan has to wear a nice dress.
  
  
• Use of the Battle.net service will cost users a monthly fee of $20. They will complain, they will threaten you and your loved ones and perhaps even commit arsony, but they will soon cave in and pay. They always do.
  
  
• You will purposefully maintain imbalances. Regularly, you will release patches with balance changes that change one imbalance to another, while promising it's perfect this time. This will cause disillusioned players to flock back with every new patch, only to have their dreams shattered again and be out of another $20.

I am so furious right now. Here's live webcam footage detailing exactly how seething with rage I am:

Why, you ask, am I pissed off to such wonderous and frightful magnitude? Gather 'round, children, and hear my tale.

After several weeks of intense meditation in my broom closet, having locked myself inside with nothing more than a pack of dry crackers and enough LSD to depopulate an entire zoo, I had reached a moment of supreme clarity, a fragile fraction of time in which everything made sense to me. The feeling was akin to, after having lugged around enormous puzzle pieces for a whole lifetime, finally resting your withered limbs, brushing your long grey strands of hair to the side, gazing at your creation and, with a wide grin of satisfaction, being able to say: "Well fuck me, it's a unicorn."

In this flash of enlightenment, I knew my goal: to write another blog. So, I busted out of my broom closet, grabbed my cell phone and called Mark. Who is Mark? Well, he is the very crux of my current anger.
You see, Mark is my ghostwriter. I don't mean he is an actual ghost, because although they require only very little pay and have a completely worthless union, ghosts tend to have at best a difficult time holding pens, using a keyboard or otherwise manipulating the tangible world in which we reside.
Mark is, in fact, the guy who writes my blogs, my posts and even my signatures.

You might find this reprehensible, perhaps even a reason to limit the otherwise boundless respect you have for me. Keep in mind, however, that popular demigods such as Jay Leno, Stephen Colbert and George W. Bush all rely on meek English majors to make them look witty. If they're allowed to do it and still be able to walk the streets without ridicule, then so can I.

Anyway, here's a transcript of my conversation with Mark:

#1 Poster: Yo, Mark. Heads up. Time for a new blog. Write one about the life of pot plants or whatever dronebabo suggested.

Mark: With all due respect, sir, that's impossible right now. Haven't you been watching the news?

#1 Poster: No, I've spent the last few weeks exploring the inner reaches of my mind in a space no bigger than a death coffin. What's up?

Mark: Well, the uh... They're... The writers, uh... We're on strike, sir. In fact, we're protesting in Rockefeller Plaza right now.

#1 Poster: What do you mean, you're on strike? Since when do you have rights? Have you considered the possibility that I will kill you?

Douchebag Mark: Sir, I believe we deserve a bigger cut of DVD sales and on-line revenue.

#1 Poster: Do you realize that nothing you write for me actually makes any money whatsoever and I have simply coerced you into this with threats of extreme violence towards you and your loved ones?

Wimpy asshole Mark: I'm sorry, sir. You're just going to have to wait until this thing is over and our demands are met.

#1 Poster: *extensive list of expletives*


This is Mark. He is refusing to do my bidding.


As you can see, this means I have to write my own material. Seeing as how I don't actually possess any creative talent and because I'm so darn miffed, I'm just going to make fun of Mark. Throughout the years that I've known him, Mark has been in quite a few embarassing situations. In a pathetic and impulsive move of revenge, I am going to list all of them for your reading pleasure.

• Accidentally called his employer "Mom" on several occasions. Mark is a grown man and I am his employer.
  
  
• Mourned the death of his infant daughter for over two weeks. You adopted her, Mark. Quit being a big baby. Jeez.
  
  
• Is a devout Catholic with stern faith in God. Fairy tales are for children, Mark.
  
  
• Thinks 9/11 was a series of coordinated suicide attacks by nineteen terrorists affiliated with the Al-Qaeda network. Wake up, Mark. It was the Jew Government.
  
  
• Cried several times during the Disney movie “Bambi”. I actually watched that movie with a live deer and it didn't even blink when Bambi's mother got shot. That makes you one of the very few things gayer than deer, Mark.
  
  
• Thought Donatello was the Turtle with the blue headband. You literally could not be any more wrong, Mark.
  
  
• Worked as a Santa at a mall until he popped a visible boner when a particularly attractive 9 year old sat on his lap. Maintains the bulge was a candy cane.
  
  
• Failed to remember I had a small but powerful explosive device installed in his wife's womb to force him into servitude. Will be coming home tonight to a crater in the kitchen, filled with pieces of bone and chunks of flesh. Fuck you, Mark.

CoW's Guide To Belgium


A few days ago, I asked you to supply me with ideas so I could write a new blog. I have decided to go with Hawk's suggestion to write a guide about Belgium and why it is worth visiting. May my siren's song lead you to an early grave in our vast swamps so that we may rob you of your possessions and flesh. I hope this guide instills in you the wish to acquaint yourself with our rich culture and hospitable people.

Here, I will offer you a list of what I feel are the most important, most impressive and most beautiful sights in Belgium.

• The Atomium
  
  
  
  A single iron crystal from a planet very similar to our own, except that everything there is 165 billion times bigger. It crash landed in Brussels in 1958 and has posed a serious problem ever since.
  Attempts to move the comically oversized crystal proved futile due to its massive weight. Scientists agree that any attempt to deassemble the crystal would lead to a nuclear fission reaction powerful enough to blow up this side of the Milky Way.
  Authorities soon decided that the best course of action would be to leave it there and charge others money to look at it. It is a must-see for both fans of iron and fans of things that are 165 billion times bigger than they should be.
  
  
  
• Manneken Pis
  
  
  
  Another important monument in Brussels. This is the only allowed depiction of the mighty deity every Belgian worships, Young Boy Who Pees Naked. We believe that He peed the entire universe into existence, and that every celestial body was a kidney stone He painstakingly had to force through His urethra. To express our gratitude for His ordeal, we sacrifice a chihuahua on a weekly basis by holding it under the stream of pee constantly emanating from the holy statue until it drowns.
  
  
  
• The Baby Fields
  
  
  
  One of the more curious and unusual sights in Belgium. The Baby Fields are the vast stretches of land where genetically engineered babies are grown, much like lettuce. They are designed to never develop further than their current baby state (lest they should choose to revolt) and take up most of the industrial, agricultural, military and service-related tasks, leaving the rest of us to comfortably stay at home and post on the Internet all day.
  Tourists should always exercise extreme caution when visiting the Baby Fields. If they should lose their footing and fall into the baby crops, they would be lucky to escape with their lives and even so, they'd spend the rest of their days with that icky sour baby stench all over them.
  
  
  
• Our King
  
  
  
  Our noble king, Jassim Ali the First. I know, I know, he looks very familiar. This is because he was one of Saddam Hussein's many impersonators. Saddam often used doubles for fear of being assassinated, and to handle every day Iraqi affairs so he could take some more time out to relax and torture dissidents.
  When our previous king (the much esteemed monarch Ronald McDonald) died in a tragic hamburger accident in 1987, a worthy successor to the throne had to be chosen. Eyes quickly turned to Iraq, where Jassim Ali was doing an impressive job instilling the fear of death in Iraqi citizens and eradicating ethnic minorities and majorities alike. King Jassim gladly took the offer, as he felt Saddam was "cramping his style" and being a "bleeding heart pussy liberal". In his twenty-year reign, he successfully abolished healthcare, erected the Baby Fields and made Thursday "Kebab Day".
  
  
  
• The Walloon Region
  
  
  
  The Southern half of Belgium. Not much is known about this arid and desolate wasteland. Its inhabitants, a gnome-like creed, reportedly speak a mangled type of French dialect and regularly roam the borders in search of sustenance. Although notoriously lazy, they have often shown aggressiveness towards perpetrators. Tourist outings to this region are therefore only possible per helicopter so as to keep a safe distance from these beasts, and hunting rifles may be rented for a nominal fee, should one wish to see these wretched creatures bleed.
  As nothing can be grown on the infertile soil, all attempts to civilize the region have long since been abandoned.
  
  
  
• Waffles, Chocolate and French Fries
  
  
  
  Not really a sight to see, but definitely a luxury every tourist should spoil oneself with. After centuries of dedicated mass training, the Belgians have mastered the art of crafting these fine foods
  Upon query, every Belgian is bound by law to produce any of these three tangible orgasms, so that any stranger may know the utter culinary dominance of Belgium.
  It is said that combining these three elements into a single dish would provide instant enlightenment to anyone who would ingest it, but the concoction has proven to be far too instable thus far and has obliterated several of our smaller cities. It is sure, however, that some day we will be able to sustain this trinity and become the most powerful force the universe has ever seen.
  
  
  
• vGl-CoW, the #1 Poster
  
  
  
  It's me! TL.net denizens (or any forums users, for that matter) should definitely put me high up on their to-do list, as I am the nec plus ultra of posting. Masses flock to my house daily to catch a glimpse of me, sitting behind my computer, posting on the Internet. It has been rumored that all those who touch me, gain my posting powers for the duration of a forthnight. Other than that, I'm just a really cool guy who likes to have fun, party and take long walks on the crushed remains of my vanquished enemies.
  

Hello, friends!

First off, a confession. I don't actually have a terrible secret. I just needed a ploy to get your attention, and it worked. I guess that, in a way, that's my terrible secret...?

So, now that you're all dismayed and considering leaving again (that thread about hitting women sure looks tempting, huh? Go ahead, I'm sure the Internet is just dying to hear that you don't hit girls.), I have a favor to ask of you.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Holy shit, I can do the #1 Poster a favor? What does he want? My left kidney? My right kidney? Both of them? Take them, please, just take them, I'll let my waste be processed by a machine the size of an African village from now on. Anything to help that noble man!"
Well, it's even better than that, because you get something out of it too. In fact, you get a lot more out of it. You see, I'm a bored, sad little man and I'd like to write another blog to entertain myself for a brief period of time and hone my writing skills. The problem is, I don't know what to write about. This is where you come in.

I need you to post your suggestions here. If I see something I like, I'll write a piece on it. What kind of subjects I want to see? Any kind. Explaining a fictitious concept or event, writing a short story on an absurd premise, ranting about whatever, I don't care, as long as I figure I can make something decent out of it.
The more ideas, the better. That way I might be able to write several pieces, which equals more hilaridad.
Of course, should I pick your idea, I'll be sure to give you the credit you deserve and some of the glory I constantly bathe in might splash off on you.

You can start throwing ideas at me like you'd throw cupcakes at a morbidly obese paraplegic right about... now.

No more finals for this little slugger! This means I can finally escape my busy agenda of studying for four hours every day and smoking weed for the remainder of it. Therefore, I can present you with the last installment in the Art of Posting series. By ending this series, I don't mean to imply that any of you have gotten any better at posting (because you haven't, and never will). I've simply already covered just about everything relevant. Too bad, because I was thinking of padding it up with a few more chapters and renaming it "The Holy Bible". Could've made some sweet extra cash before the nuns figured out it was about the Goatse man instead of Jesus and myself instead of God.

CHAPTER 5: GENERAL POSTING PROFICIENCY


Alternatively known as all of the shit I neglected to mention before. Much like a container of dildos at an orgy, this will serve to fill up any holes that may have been left unaddressed.
With this last batch of information, you should theoretically be able to start constructing Worthy Posts. Of course, this is much akin to handing a monkey a set of schematics and a hammer and expecting it to build the Taj Mahal. It might look promising for a second, until the monkey just grabs the hammer and starts wailing on his peers. Either way, it's win-win.

+ Show Spoiler [Part 1] +