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Long-ass open letter to Le Cajou Bleu...

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  • Long-ass open letter to Le Cajou Bleu...

    It can scarcely have escaped the attentions of all but the most dim-witted of Flame Town* and its associated participants that there are those who sport raging hard boners of pure hate where I am concerned. Even people with whom I have had no direct contact with for years are still seeking to vent their cun't-centric vitriol and bile into the proceedings in places I cannot be bothered to register at, which is strange because they are largely the sorts of people I cannot be bothered to pursue. Mostly this ire and longstanding butthurt is being directed my way from people who came unstuck through their own actions and I have little interest in giving them the opportunity to err further, be it intellectual or veneral. This message board interaction I always understood to be for the furtherment of group enjoyment, whether it be in the flame arena, political discussion or even feminine hygiene products and what to clean the crusties off your favourite sex toys with. Whatever floats your boat, I'm cool with it. I don't have to feel compelled to participate with it to be cool with it.


    Even if it means associating with people of questionable character. Really. You are distinguished by the company that you keep in my opinion. This includes the influx of members you would keep in preference to the driveby efforts of the odd guest that might happen past and you should probably do well to bear that in mind should you choose to struggle through the account of ancient history that follows. It very well could answer a few questions you might have been entertaining, particularly any regarding why you came to the attention of what is today trading as "Stomping Groundz", though I can imagine it is far easier to simply dismiss that as "its what flame forums do" in favour of digging for the root cause and possibly identifying a solution to the petty infighting that has undeniably taken an uptick since those pretend flamers decided you deserved a place on their gaydar.


    I'd argue that you weren't worth their time to begin with, the truth is that you can't tell these brain damaged cunts anything and this is especially true of the main protagonist in this matter who also just happens to be their site owner, a person uniquely unsuited to being told anything she doesn't wish to hear. Rationality and the more subtle forms of cognitive ability completely elude her, her principle skills lie not in shining shitters (as Herman would have you believe) but rather going completely apeshit for no good reason whatsoever, a skill she is exceptionally (if not justly) proud of.


    We'll revisit that hapless individual in due course. We have no choice, she is integral to this little shit show you have fermenting away at your own forum, to the point where you are periodically locking sections of them down, opening them back up, locking them down again etc ad infinitum. As I am integral, if truth be told, though unlike her, my part in the affair is wholly unintentional. I personally don't give a red raw shit what you do over there, even if I do pop my head in from time to time to throw a few unsolicited table scraps your way while various of your number throw shitfits about the impending return of someone or other. The only person who ever seems to get it right when I do is Caskur, but only because she seems to think that practically every guest that shows up there or anywhere else is me, so I wouldn't be placing too much stock in her constant assurances that I'm lurking in your guest accounts and trashing your cookies. The fact is I'm not there nearly as often as she would have you believe, she only thinks I am, due to the indelible scars I've been known to stomp into her psyche over the years. Which were also largely unintentional, at least initially. I've long come to the conclusion that once you get one over on her she simply won't let it alone, necessitating further and more comprehensive ownings of her.


    Which brings us to one of your stalwarts, Rotwang, whose case is apparently no different. From small acorns of truth, the mighty oak of innuendo grows; as much as he and his staunchest supporters would like to sweep it under the carpet, it was during a goodly number of MSN discussions regarding the inaugural Australian Brawl-Haller meet up in Bathurst where his insistence on the then 17 year old Feralbiatch be billeted with him in preference to the family of Brawl Hall stalwarts Bulldog Eating Custard and Dark Queen, two upstanding citizens I had personally had the pleasure of meeting who were father and mother to a daughter of their own. This was the first inkling anyone had that his intentions might have been questionable, but it wasn't until the fateful morning I chanced to be reading an article in the Sydney Morning Herald regarding the impending prosecution of a New South Wales central coast Labour party minister on charges of child grooming that the unease coalesced into the appreciation of just what he was, leading in turn to the all consuming hatred he harbours today, for Brawl-Hall in general and Freud and myself in particular. The article contained a few statements from the minister in question which I was skimming while chatting with Evil Blood over the phone. I remember breaking our discussion mid conversation to read some of them at him and ask him who it reminded him of. I remember the reply; "that's Stephen".


    That's more or less how it began. Stephen... "Bricktop", "Rotwang", whatever or however you choose to refer to him, had offered up similar excuses in his MSN conversations regarding Feralbiatch as this Labour minister had used to excuse his questionable associations with 15 and 16 year old boys. Who knows how long this might have continued had I not chanced to throw a couple of coins at the newsstand vendor at Leumeah railway station that morning is anyone's guess, but it certainly appears it's the catalyst for where Rotwang finds himself today.


    Now, to be clear on this, even to this day I have no direct proof of Rotwang ever consummating the act of grooming, much less outright paedophilia, but I certainly have enough first hand evidence that he argued to be given the opportunity to. That he was a rampant cunthound then, forever hassling the womenfolk of Brawl-Hall to send him nudes (one of whom reportedly had the utter shit beaten out of her by her boyfriend when he found out) and being somewhat gropey with any womenfolk he came into contact with (kind of like a Joe Biden on steroids in fact) did not mitigate in his favour. I was genuinely concerned that I was watching events unfold on Brawl-Hall that had a dangerous analog to what was happening in the real world and I certainly wasn't appreciative of my proximity to it, or his insistence I take a more active role in bringing it about. I was at the time fairly active in the Brawl-Hall sphere and a ranking member of its raiding division Legion of the Damned. As was Rotwang. Up to that point, he and I would regularly discuss tactics for raids and back each other up on same.


    And much as I know I (and I suspect he as well) would begrudge admitting it, we were once friends. Sue me. But friends or not, I'm not the kind of person to embark on the willful destruction of other people's lives or livelihoods. To that end, I was quite open with my rebuttal of the charge of paedophilia where he was concerned. In the beginning days of it mind you, but it seemed that those invested with fueling the interboard rivalries Brawl-Hall enjoyed with Flame Champs had other ideas. What began as a charge of attempted grooming was quickly blown out of proportion, particularly when it was revealed that Stephen was still attempting to solicit nudes of underaged females (as with Pantywaste) and had in fact been run off a gaming forum 18 months ahead of his first appearance at Brawl Hall under similar concerns of impropriety (ultimately made public along with his real life identity by none other than Bumspud and HCTrouble).


    That was all many long years ago now of course. I haven't kept up on Stephen's comings and goings in the interim and if he finds himself among people prepared to overlook his past misdeeds then more power to him. For myself, I happen to be a big believer in the notion that if you've paid an outstanding debt then you are considered to be released from it. With that in mind, even had Stephen managed to jam his then 55 year old "Mr Wrinkly" squarely up Feralbiatch's clack back in the day (and I'm pretty sure he did not), then his effective exile from the flaming community of some fifteen years (give or take) is a significantly longer term than what he might have expected in a penitentary. I know I forgave him for his actual excesses long ago, as relatively piddling as they were, but apparently the "wounds" I inflicted on him in getting to that point were mortal enough that he carries a blunted pitchfork for me to this very day. My part in his pain is in fact a relatively minor one, though his apparent insistence on holding me accountable for the lion's share of it is apparently leverage enough for him to keep scratching his scabs long after the fact. Probably to his dying day for all I know, which by all accounts isn't that far off.


    He doesn't need to of course, but whatever gets him through the night I suppose. Even if he can still coax life into his appendage, I'm inclined to believe favourably enough of the members of empurpled-stranglecock.net (sorry, blue cashew... forgive me my flamer's license ) that he hasn't been doing it at your member's expense. Even if I'm wrong, I'm content to not be a part of anything potentially illegal and the truth is since I'm not even a member of your board I don't see there's anything to be gained by chasing him out of wherever he happens to be hiding at any given time. The gaming forum surely didn't, the board owner himself was quite happy to see the back of him and I find myself supremely unintereted in whatever he is doing these days too. Yes, I know he is still barking imprecations about what a cunt I am a decade and a half after I refused to be a pimp for his extra-marital fantasies; that, believe me, is incidental knowledge as far as I am concerned.


    What isn't incidental knowledge is how he and by extension the abused lurex lizard (sorry, blue cashew) came to find itself the target of a bunch of Flame Town refugees and spic shitter shiners. More on that in part two.



    * - yeah, admittedly the bar is pretty fucking low on this, but meh.





  • #2
    As has been noted previously, I am afforded a higher quotient of aggrieved associates than your average iconoclast. That might sound like conceit, but it's just the way the chips have fallen and I'm strangely comfortable to rest on those laurels. Many would like to pretend to be authorities on exactly how I remain such a dominant name in Flame in spite of the little I do to maintain it these days, though there are precious few who enjoy the distinction of being actual authorities and even fewer who are inclined to set the record straight where I am concerned. I don't blame them actually; you'd need a small office of dedicated personnel to deal with the daily flow of misinformation that gets pimped out by the very people you consider reasonable individuals. I happen to know they're not, I tend to think anyone who will wilfuly pass judgement on someone based solely on the say-so of others without so much as paying lipservice to the notion of giving the accused his day in court is likewise not a reasonable individual. Part of it comes down to a penchant for not rolling with the Accepted Way of Doing Things when it doesn't suit me to do so and digging my heels in when others attempt to drag me to the table of some bullshit kangaroo court peopled with hive minds that have already had my guilt decided for them is something I'm cool with.


    I'm not the only person to do this, or even the most aggressive at doing it, though I am somewhat tenacious and exceptionally versed at sticking to a script. Freud can and has attested to this previously, not that such advice has been overly heeded by the people he's given it to. Including a certain ex-girlfriend of mine who never quite got over the fact I walked away on her... three years ago.


    You know her. She was the vanguard of the flame pretenders that came calling at your forum, looking to stir up some echo of the anger she felt (and apparently still feels today) in myself. She has invested a great amount of time and effort to achieve this and been thwarted at every turn, largely because she was utterly incapable of understanding what flaming was to begin with. She's not known for accepting rejection well, especially not when it's someone she can convince herself is doing the dirty on her. She is also particularly susceptible to conflating the actions of different people and attributing those amalgamations to one person and no shortage of people around her prepared to exploit that. Especially when she was e-dating someone who had bested them at every turn. What did anyone expect would happen when these people found out?


    And find out they did. I personally think it was Caskur who started the ball rolling on this, but the truth is it could have been anyone. What I do know is that I had already ceased posting at The Retard Farm (Third Rail) when the present purse strings of a certain forum outright accused me of posting as Ant Agoniser. Which I flat out denied of course. I knew it wasn't me, plenty of other people told her it wasn't me either. Had she been invested with even a modicum of ability to sit down and think it through, she would have known it wasn't me, but she had already decided otherwise and no amount of evidence to the contrary was ever going to convince her of her error. Latinas enjoy the stereotype of letting their emotions rule their actions instead of logic after all and the particular latina conforms to that stereotype admirably. We're talking the type of person who engages in redfaced screaming matches with people in supermarket checkout lines, a mentally and emotionally unstable, medicated firebrand whose moral compass is virulently "I, Me, Mine". Assuredly not the kind of individual who likes to admit error when she is provably wrong and I count myself exceptionally fortunate that my detractors working overtime to torpedo the relationship were in fact doing me the favour of ensuring I got off as lightly as I did.


    Unfortunately for yourselves and others, both in and out of Flame Town, this had the unintended side effect of bringing them into the line of fire. The first person to find himself targeted was Freud, who told her very early on in the piece flat out to stop sending him her nudes in the flood of emails that began after I had wished her and her family well, backing off from her only to find her chasing after me in Facebook. I guess the whole "I am e-fucking your best friend" narrative doesn't fly so well when you've no point of reference for your ex and her tireless efforts to keep me interested might be explained by that alone, but the truth is I don't greatly care who gets to stir my custard after the event. Meanwhile Ant Agoniser and company were still winding her up at The Retard Farm and her constant threats to hurl my PII at them to make them stop were of course having precisely zero effect whatsoever. It got so bad at one point that she was chasing after me in Facebook just so she could scream at me to leave her alone.


    Which of course was precisely what I was doing, but you couldn't tell her that. By this point she was so unhinged that she was spilling snippets of mine and others real life affairs left and right, so I contacted the forum owner to give him the heads up, little realising at the time that he was the architect of the whole attack. Payback for her and myself making his staff look like complete tools six months earlier perhaps; if so then it ultimately backfired on him because it eventually killed his own forum dead as dogshit. To give him his credit, he did make a cursory attempt to tell her the IPs of Ant's and my accounts weren't a match, Bonesaw, Freud and Zeropoint (the latter of whom had warned me against involving myself with her in the first place) all weighed in to say they were convinced it wasn't me. Loud screams of indignation were the reply, accusations of my supposed Svengali-like hold on her "friends" were spouted and business resumed as usual, with her claiming I was threatening to doxx her kids, leading to her doxxing them under her own recognisance barely a week later.


    It wasn't long after this that I faded off into the background, curtailing my brief return to The Retard Farm and outright blocking her on Facebook to keep her from badgering me there. This didn't stop her from throwing more of my PII at Ant Agoniser, spurred on by Caskur who informed me as I was heading out that she was going to make sure the ex never forgot. As if it made any difference to me; I'd lost count of the amount of times I'd washed my hands of her and walked away by this point and told Caskur rather bluntly that I was already on the lookout for the next "sweet thing" to come my way. Which as it turns out came in the form of a career opportunity that propelled me on to the international stage and putting my skills as a recording engineer at the disposal of big name acts, more than a few of them ones I had listened to as a kid. Meanwhile Ant and the rest of The Cum Garglers were having a high old time driving the ex into fits of fury and stupidity, a state of affairs which eventually led to her drafting King Martini in to deal with them, "because I was absolutely Ant and mortally afraid of KM". I'm not, but when you're not dealing with a full deck and the cards that you ARE playing with are torn and dogeared and scattered about the place like a mad woman's breakfast...


    Mad woman's breakfast. A rather apt analogy. Anyway...


    King Martini dealt with Ant of course, and without falling prey to the stubborn insistence that I was Ant. But this came at a cost... namely the exposure of his and his tag team partner Pickle's PII. Ant's partner Caskur was particularly jubilant over this and wasted no time in repeatedly posting it all up until "Ant" was forced to log out of the Ant account and back into the site owner's account to ban her for the distribution of "other kids pictures". But this certainly didn't stop the site owner logging back in as Ant and furnishing me with the exact same PII weeks later on my return to active posting. Along with entreaties to demand the ex "show us her teefs" which apparently was the height of their arsenal at that point where she was concerned. Which if you subscribe to the tales of my willful use of other people's children in my flaming efforts should have meant a whole raft of kids faces with genitals on them. Funny, I don't remember that being the case at The Retard Farm, pretty sure nobody else does either.


    He wasn't the first person to get up in my face though. No, that honour goes to the crazed lunatic who had been screaming at me to "leave her the fuck alone" and burning sacrificial offerings to Santa Muerte with prayers that I die in puddles of my own vomit. For my part, I admit to registering under a name ethat veryone who was anyone would recognise me by. She had been at it for five months by this point and by the looks of it, it didn't matter a damn what I did, she was going to keep going. And she surely didn't prove me wrong on that score.


    I had some fun with it, I don't deny it. Fuck her, it was a fight she had stubbornly insisted upon bringing and I was well past bored with her tantrums. She wasn't interested in ending her untenable position without a Big Name to cushion her fall. I for my part assumed that every threat she made she was ready to make good on, be it the outing of my PII and the PII of everyone I was associated with out in the real world, right on up to and including the threats of cartel involvement, so I waded into it on the understanding I had nothing whatsoever to lose. Give her due credit, she threw a lot of spit at the wall in her attempts to "be the one that busted cun`T", but no matter what she did, I simply grinned and slogged my way through it, driving her even further over the edge that Ant (Bra1n aka The Mor0n) had already pitched her over. This included embarrassing the shit out of her with selected excerpts from our four month long e-squeeze along with accounts of her almost insatiable requests to be e-dominated with fistings and ass to mouth. At some point I confessed to her that I faked every orgasm which did NOT go over well, but since I was in the business of dispensing inconvenient truths I figured one more wouldn't hurt. Well, not more than she deserved, let's put it that way. I nailed her to the wall in ways the site owner never dreamed of and all without me breaking a single forum rule, particularly the ones relating to PII... not even when she finally did what she had been threatening to do all along and dumped mine into open forum, only to be banned for it and finding herself in dire need of a "non-Rowan forum" to ply her trade from.




    Comment


    • #3
      And so we come to the inclusion of The Blue Cashew in this sordid affair, as this is more or less the point where she decided to call in the Big Guns. She had already coaxed the ancient history of Rotwang's fall from grace back when hers and my pillowtalk sessions were something she looked forward to. Now she was desperate. King Martini wasn't stomping me the way she wanted him to, her swanning about with Freud wasn't getting the desired result - indeed, now that he knew what it was all about he was reluctant to continue what he had assumed all along was a little trolling action aimed at the forum. And she had been banned for dumping a member's real life details out into open forum. The ex had exhausted pretty much every avenue at her disposal, maybe she could effect some sort of righteous all consuming indignation out of yours truly by pushing the narrative that Rotwang was falsely accused of noncery in the first place.


      Except you know from the first post that I really wasn't invested in whether he was exonerated or not. Exiled from the flaming community years before and finding himself with new friends who rightly (or wrongly) didn't give a rats arse what he was run out of Flametown for. To my way of thinking, it was ancient news and news which for the most part I wasn't in the front lines for, being that I had split from the Brawller ranks significantly before he did, before his exit from Legion and before the accusations of attempted grooming surfaced that were ultimately blown way out of proportion into full blown paedophilia in fact.


      So when the Muffcabbage shitter shiner started loudly braying that she was going to clear Rotwangs name, my first reaction was "uhhh, wasn't that done already?"


      My second reaction was "heh, this ought to be amusing." And sure enough, it was.







      I'll give your boy this much, his years on the force served him well. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head, the old flatfoot's instinct for knowing when he was being bullshitted to... all of it. He knew something smelled off about it, knew they weren't levelling with him from the outset and played them to perfection. As evidenced by the sudden retreat into screaming insults ahead of a frustrated latrina's flouncing departure. Yeah, I reckoned I laughed as hard as Rotwang did over that one... even lifted my beer at the old bludger. Say what you like about him, he's one of the sharper Crayolas in Flame Town's overly chewed upon deck. I wonder how many nudie email pics it took to bring him around to her way of thinking.


      Because we know that's ultimately what she did, sidling back in to coax and wheedle her "old Chester" to post on her newly minted forum. I guess I could have pretended some level of moral indignation, but the truth is whenever I bothered to think about it (which was a rare enough occurrence) I was too busy rolling my eyes at the inanity of it all. Ex girlfriend convinces adversary to hide behind a registration wall with her, big woop. To loudly and proudly proclaim what a fine upstanding guy he is, how wrong he was done by the big, mean evil Rowan (as if I were somehow the only person worth commenting upon in the litany of Stephen's woes of the last decade) as other people who were actually present for what went down took potshots at her and him, exposing yet again how wrong she truly was.


      I don't know why he decamped from there and went back to Blue Cashew and don't really much care, but... the fact is he did and is once again on the latrina's shitlist. I don't blame him for doing so actually, the poor old bastard is getting on in years, what does he care to revisit the same old arguments he emigrated out of the flame forums to avoid in the first place? Particularly when his very presence among other members of the old crew who are all too prepared to laugh and mock him and his puppetmistress's attempts to use him as a pawn in an equation whose principle target has so very little investment in perpetuating said arguments?


      Meanwhile you poor buggers have all been caught up in it. I suspect you're even less interested in having them pawing at your ankles and mewling for your attention as I am. All because one bitter and jilted grandmother fucked herself sideways with her own paranoia, moved heaven and earth to make someone else pay for her mistake and in the end, found herself paying for a forum largely populated by a few dozen cheerleaders and the petty backbiters that neither you nor I can be bothered shepherding about. Sliced Genitals isn't the Flame Town powerhouse she hoped would make it the envy of all near and far, it is barely a drab echo of Turd Fail, the very site that contrived to drive her into frothing frenzied fits of fury in the first place. I'm still breathing, still showing up like a bad penny and apparently so much of a problem that they dare not speak my name on their own forum, for all their constant oblique references to the evils I am supposed to have done. Which for what it's worth also suits me, as much as it indicates that she is really out of arrows for her quiver and is desperately trying to shuffle it all under the carpet... and can't.


      So now you know why she has such a boner for you all. Truthfully, I think she would be happier to have you all come charging into her forum and play your part in the Queen Yertle mob of anti-cun`Ters; the fact you are not interested in doing so... dropping your own game and taking up hers for some kind of messed up Quixotic preference... is part and parcel of her impotent ire. Even if you had shelved your own interests in favour of hers, it scarcely would have made a difference from where I sit; while Muffcabbage was busily shoring up every last erg of the PII-rife hugboxes she could slurp her way into, I found much more vibrant interactions amongst the denizens of Agni and similar grids which has opened up more opportunities for my expression than can be provided for in a humble messageboard, even one as tricked out as Flame Truth's. You tell me; forty members or forty thousand... whose star do you think is shining brighter in any potential popularity pissing contest?


      Without intending to, you have unwittingly been cast as opponents for simply doing your thing, much as I was in fact. I'd apologise for dropping you in it, except that I didn't really (apart from having the audacity to exist in the first place of course) and in the balance think that any culpability I might reasonably accord myself is trivial in the face of other's efforts' no matter how large they would play my part in it.


      Oh, and Stephen? Have a Reschs in memory of what you might have achieved if you hadn't been so eager to get your hands on everything female within a 400 terabyte radius of Flame Town. I'm sure a bastard like you has earned it by now after what you've been through... and sorry about your penis.




      Comment


      • #4
        [...]Because we know that's ultimately what she did, sidling back in to coax and wheedle her "old Chester" to post on her newly minted forum[...]



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        Begged to. Not invited, but BEGGED.


        Gotta wonder how many others she begged to join her in this ill-advised popularity contest she's trying to wage. That is what it is after all, a popularity contest and one which she is waging against people who cannot be bothered validating her desperate efforts with any effort of their own to that end. Because as pretty much anyone with even a passing knowledge of the flame game will attest, our friend Countess Consuela Clownshoes has very little skill in actual flaming at all. Only those quick to confuse vitriolic hatred for flaming would insist otherwise and she sure has an excess of boiling, bubbling hatred to fling about. That, in and of itself is not flaming, no matter what any passing retard would care to sell you.


        Neither is begging, truth be told, but should you ever find yourself in her voluminous shoes, desperately trying to one-up someone who has had you dead to rights in a game you simply cannot hope to compete in, you'll pretty much pull out every stop you can to try and sell your success, particularly when your own efforts fail to stand on their own merits. Begging for people to join you in your crusade and wheedling anyone who strays too far from the flock about their perceived lack of loyalty to your cause becomes part and parcel of what limited arsenal you might effectively boast. She has in fact pulled that stunt on a number of people here (I know because they have told me) and barely a month goes by without some pleading thread for the return of some poster or another at her own board.


        This goes back to what I was saying a week ago, attempting to wage a war that few enough are interested in, myself included. I would hazard a guess and say that The Bleu Cajones enjoys a similar disinterest as Flame Truth does when it comes to the question of prostituting oneself for forum involvement. At least I have to think so, having not seen anything to indicate otherwise; say, a driving need to isolate Seamajor from the company he keeps for example. Pretty sure I'm not about to hear any tales of you trying to leech traffic away from V&4erm any time soon.


        And I surely don't consider your recent and unseemly cajoling for me to register as evidence of some similarity to what Shining Shitterz is engaged in. You already had me posting as a guest, along with a number of other people. It was more worth your while to turn off the guest posting function than entertain the traffic it might otherwise have brought you. Ironically in doing so, you wound up with more of the wrong kind of people registering, but I'm sure you'll navigate your way through that. Pro tip: these rabble are especially susceptible to running away if you hobble their accounts to a "read only" status, especially when you invite them to register fresh handles at any point they feel the urge to resume posting. Minimal effort on your part to create a seemingly insurmountable challenge on theirs. Do feel free to ask for advice if you find yourself in need of further unconventional tactics to deal with the troublemakers.


        Bear in mind, this is all merely unsolicited advice of course. I can only show you the door, you're the one who has to make the decision to walk through it. You may, considering your understanding of the situation, elect to do things completely differently and more power to you if you do and find yourself successful. I do however "enjoy" the benefits of a more intimate understanding of their collective mindset, given my closer dealings with them and their ilk. The nearest you can boast of your own number is Bricktop and while admittedly his previous career and nationality bequeaths him an advantage in terms of bullshit detectors and such, he hasn't had anywhere near the proximity I have had to observe the de-evolution of these poor unfortunate souls.


        Who, as of the last time I passed by their way were desperately struggling to field a couple of teams for their latest attempt at a mongoloid tag team death cage match and coming up woefully short. You might have thought that given their presently active membership base would have been a doddle. Actually their numbers are strikingly similar to those that The Retard Farm was sporting at it's last PYP match and I am here to tell you that that particular match only got off the ground after an influx of three or four ring-ins returning to active posting, two of whom are presently MIA and another who has thus far expressed his disinterest in rejoining the fray in that capacity. The site owner has indicated she will need another week of begging him to come around to his way of thinking. I guess time will tell if she is successful in that aim.


        The long and the short of it is that even with his inclusion (if indeed he does), that means two teams of three members... and that is to put it mildly, "pathetic". The Retard Farm's last outing in this kind of tag team match was two teams of five. It ought not take an Einsteinian intellect to draw the conclusion that as both sites enjoyed similar active membership rosters at the time that Slurpen Grindz is a poor echo of what The Retard Farm was.


        And if you were to ask Bricktop, I am sure he would confirm that in terms of Flame sites, Turd Fail wasn't anything to write home about. Not really at any point of it's history, certainly not at the vinegar strokes when mismanagement and poor trolling saw it exit the forum scene with less of a "BANG" and more of a whimper.


        Guess where most of its refugees wound up migrating to.






        Comment


        • #5
          Now that that's out of the way and the cheap seats are all congratulating themselves on how utterly incapable they are of mustering the attention span to read it without nodding off like a bunch of smack-addled junkies, let us turn to the subject of Fear.


          Few inspire such an emotion among the true devotees of the flaming community. The fact is, if you are a powerflamer and happen to find yourself up against an opponent of equal or better abilities to your own, fear plays almost no part whatsoever in the equation for one reason; namely, flaming...actual flaming/// is a game. And unlike a good many games, an exchange between two powerflamers well versed in their craft and with no problems in going to town on each other will almost universally result in two winners, not one.


          I speak from experience in this regard, as I have been lucky enough to have entered the game at a time when the flame game was populated nearly exclusively by players skilled enough to keep it interesting for their opponents. Those days are of course largely gone; what Bawk Mall didn't kill off with its scorched earth policies was well and truly ground into dust on the backs of forums such as Chat Chimps, The Retard Farm, Wikidrewl and Stumpy Groundz, places that sought to claim a flame legacy without actually doing anything in the way of contributing to it. More often than not, engaging in practices which promoted the further dilution of the craft in fact.


          One of those practices being organised matches.


          Now sure, there will be a number of people up in arms over such a statement, but hear me out. Matches in and of themselves are not so much a bad thing, but when you find yourself with a membership base that largely subsists of hangers on, matches can and do offer an avenue for the weaker and lazier contributers to gain some kind of notoriety for themselves.


          Particularly those willing to get in a few PM boxes and do a little bit of BEGGING to sway a vote in their favour. I think you know who I am talking about here.


          Matches are by and large predicated on the notion that there needs to be a "winner" and a "loser", something which flies in the face of the flaming ethos which is mutual enjoyment. Tag team and other assorted group matches are a further level of idiocy in that these lazier contributers might bask in the reflected glory of their "champion" flamer, often talking up their accomplishments (occasionally real and more often imagined) and selling the idea that they are a person to be "feared" for them. Benzover used to pull this stunt all the time, talking up some hapless nigger whose main claim to fame might be found here and who if truth be told lasted for all of fifteen posts here before his largely bi-syllabic responses were deemed too asinine to be of worth to this forum. He was hobbled and incited to re-register when he thought he wanted to try his hand at something more substantial of course. Apparently that was beyond him. Que sera sera. The same gentleman managed to lose a title match to Frederika of all people, a sheep-shagging welsh blowhard with no flaming skillset AT ALL who nonetheless managed to beat Benzover's champion with nothing more or less than a single post consisting of a turd smiley.


          Let that sink in for a moment and then tell me that matches are beneficial to an actual flaming environment.


          Now, that's not to say there weren't some truly mighty flamers who indulged in this "match" practice back in the day. One you will hear mentioned a fair bit was a highly funny and wily bastard by the name of Evil Blood. An accomplished titan who I've happily tangled with on a number of occasions. He was one of a few outside of the legendary Flame4Cash stable who could actually meet a fellow flamer face to face and make it worth their while to engage him in combat, be it textual or in the realms of multimedia. A funny bastard and someone who lesser opponents are quick to tell you is someone to be rightly feared.


          Not me. I was one of a sadly now depleted pool of posters he actively respected. He rarely said so openly, though there was the odd bit of glowing praise here and there which I personally felt a little embarrassed by whenever he'd express it. I've never felt the need to have my praises sung by others, not even by those I held in such high regard myself. And certainly not by those who would seek to ingratiate themselves in lieu of simply getting out and Doing the Deed for themselves. Flaming as the old-timers knew it was at it's core a more extreme form of good-natured roasting, with its more accomplished practitioners enjoying a level of camaraderie that often went unnoticed by the lesser abled.


          You can tell who they are easily enough. The ones who will tell you who they fear. There are people who to this day fear Evil Blood. Others will claim a hatred of him instead, which itself is fear with a slice of aggression thrown in. Neither were ever traits of a true flamer and despite what you might have heard, neither ever will or should be. A flamer's strength is rooted in the ability to find humour in someone's actions, even their own, which is why people like Evil Blood and myself enjoyed going at each other. What looked to the uninitiated as pitched violent battle royales were in fact highly amusing and enjoyable exchanges. On more than one occasion such trysts would later be described as "fake" by the lesser lights of the community who, hopeful that the blasts being leveled against the other were the hallmark of a falling out between close friends, were disappointed after the fact to learn it wasn't as life-and-death as it appeared to them. To the best of my recollection, Freud is the only other person still standing who ever managed that level of flaming acumen; he and I quite literally stalled Bawk Mall with a similar exchange not long after my arrival there.


          That's not to say there weren't others who showed promise enough to make it worth the while of the true champions of the game, though with an influx of cheerleaders and other hangers on who needed the crutch of public opinion to get them over the line, the pool has been diluted to the point that what remains barely has the pulse to go through the motions they once insisted their champions indulge in. I'm talking specifically of matches here; the spectacle of watching intellectual athletes compete against each other attracted a plethora of interested parties prepared to live vicariously through it and it is instructive to note that these same interested parties whose own deficiencies in the craft failed to hold the interest of those same titans. Evil Blood departed in late 2011, never to return just as the champions of the Flame4Cash era did five years or more earlier.


          I stuck about, poking the odd individual here and there for signs of flaming life and finding little more than embers for the most part. I find it laughable to hear people today saying I taught them about flaming - I would have to be one of the shittiest instructors on the face of God's green earth if these clowns are the best alumni I could put my name to. The truth is I never sought to teach anyone anything, any more than I intended to put myself out there as a figure to be hated (read "feared"). Verbal (s)wordplay was my thing, I have above average linguistic and clear thinking skills and a mind like a steel trap, attributes which are largely not being tested in today's flamescape, there being all too few people left who are capable of thinking outside of the box. Fear has seen the conglomeration of the few would-be players left into an amorphous blob, better suited to their Safe Spaces in lieu of laughing at their own silliness, the most telling example of which is their insistence of being accomplished flamers in their own right for "running off" their opponents, even when they had to run away to a gated community to do it.


          I'd feel sorry for them, only I'm not going to. Pity is wasted on them; if they want to remain in the sandbox and play pretend, I'm inclined to let them. I outgrew that sandbox and don't see a great deal of value in throwing them new toys to play with when they can barely figure out how to play with the hand-me-downs from a decade and a half ago. Any challenge presented to them is summarily discarded and god knows it's been years since any of them could come up with anything I might consider a fresh and interesting challenge. Thankfully I've other avenues that exploit my innate desire for the "new" and "interesting"; if I had to content myself with anything Weepy or Bimboskates cooked up, I think I'd have probably overdosed on Drano by now.


          And shockingly, they represent the most "formidable" that's been thrown my way since SirSuperSouthern left the building. Poor fare I know, and if that's what you consider flaming then I can't help you.




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