Sunday, April 25, 2010
What Happened To The Informer?
Well, apparently my good buddy The Informer has gone completely insane on us and is now on Phil's side. What gives? His blog just turned around 180 degrees literally and he is now a neuronitwit like Phil and Tex and Scratcher. Informer, if you're reading this, it's time to come out of it now. You've played games long enough, now you have to be your true self again. To do what you have just done to me and all the other curebies out there is preposterous and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Wake up, Informer. The world needs you now more than ever.
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22 comments:
...I wonder if he got hacked...?
This seems very odd.
I think Informer (although I wish this wasn't the case) is just being a smartass, Oliver.
It would seem like an awful lot of trouble to go through, for merely being a smart ass.
I'd repeat myself about this being odd, but... I'd be repeating myself.
Hmm.
I too can be a smart ass. I guess I just don't see the point of so much trouble. It wouldn't mean much in the end. [then again, I am now thinking in terms of that certain hateful person I mentioned a while back... and I'm not seeing the point on wasting effort on something that wouldn't cause harm or reprieve. Hate does unpleasant things to one's mind.].
I considered doing it myself, once upon a time, for the hateful one. Well, not just him... his dad too, but mostly him. .... his name was/is Cristian. Horribly ironic, don't you think?
A blog against him would have done no good, however. So I didn't.
He probably wouldn't have given a damn. If he ever got to see it. ... and if he did, I probably would have gotten in trouble. Would have only made problems worst.
*shrug* The hateful one and his father had to move out, so in that sense, I suppose I'm "victorious".
Oh, but what a hollow victory it is.
*snort* If the mafia has a presence here, I'm unaware of it.
No, the hateful one damaged the outer front door, and my mom finally hit her breaking point. Oh, it'd only been... [5? 6? More?] years of hell with those two [three, if you counted the lesser amount of time the hateful one's equally hateful brother (and they called him "Angel"!) lived with us]. Only toke that long before mom had it. Only, only. *slightly bitter laugh*
And still, a hollow victory. The damage [to property and people, both] had been done. It still remains.
*shrug* Well, they might... I wouldn't know. I'm not particularly interested in gangs/mobs/mafia... so if they're being quiet, they could be here, and I probably wouldn't notice.
And the hateful ones were mexican/mexican-american.
Not that it matters, as it has nothing to do with anything.
Man, I didn't know Latinos hung around Massachusetts.
Lol, you're kidding me, right? Plenty of mexican people around. And other types of latino.
I mean here in LA there's so many of 'em but whenever I've been in Massachusetts it's been white for as far as I can see.
...there's also many other types of people, with varying skin colors and whatever else. The people across the street are mexican, I think. And last I knew, around the area I live, there were/are many russian people... and probably a lot of other types of people I don't notice. [I tend to not notice people in general, if they are keeping their distance; and I don't leave the house that much either... so... yeah.].
but he's not nearly as bad a person as those who you threw out of your house so it's a bad stereotype to create.
I'm not creating a stereotype. Like I said, it has nothing to do with anything.
The Boston mob is mostly Irish while the New York mob is mostly Italian, so there's probably no mafia in your neck of the woods unless you know their ethnicities pretty well.
*shrug* I really wouldn't know. I'm not good at telling ethnicities apart a lot of the time... or recognizing them in the first place... oh, hell, people in general blur together for me. Lol.
Me, I'm a mutt. That's what I call myself.
Well, they are definitly here, lol.
I can see bits of stuff in me... I think. Lol, I don't know. But I'm pretty sure the Cherokee is in my cheekbones, maybe my nose; and that my eye shape is probably highly influenced by the french-canadian. [lol, general eye shape and high cheekbones; my eyes are squinty.]. But I could be on the wrong track with that. I really don't know.
There's also black, and irish, and who knows what else in the family... too much for me to know, so, as I said, I call myself a mutt.
Well, no, -I'm- not black. But it's in the family, somewhere. [probably way back]. I'm speshul-gothick-white. As in, not albino, but pale enough that people are always telling me to go get sun and junk. And I burn instead of tan [semi-exception being my arms, which will tan... a little. Emphasis on little. And then they'll burn.]. People probably wouldn't even believe that there's black in the family.
Sometimes I'll call myself a cracker, or some other person; but only if I know they won't wig out on me. It's just teasing. Or sometimes sarcasm.
Or, in the case[s] where I called the hateful one such, it was to mock him. [since he was mexican-american... but would wig out if I called him a mexican, or brought it up at all... and he called me racist and crude for it. This, from someone who spewed the N word in almost every other sentence. So I'd mockingly call him a cracker, because he was so stupid.].
Don't go to a tanning salon. It'll give you cancer. :/ [those things should be outlawed.].
I wouldn't have called him a beaner; that's straying too far into racist territory for me. I called him a cracker, because he thought he was white. Except for when he thought he was black. Really; the kid was a dumbass. It didn't matter if calling him a cracker insulted him or not [and it did at times, anyhow], it was for my own satisfaction. I had plenty of other insults to call him anyhow.
And he pretty much never knew what he was talking about... it didn't matter if he thought I didn't know what I was talking about.
Oh, no, spray-ons are fine. I thought you were talking about a tanning-bed.
...you sound kind of like my dad, there. There are other ways to insult those you hate; you needn't be racist.
Well, the beds are definitly not safe. Go with the spray-on, if you must.
Me; I kind of like the pale look. *shrug*
I'm trying to work on cutting stupid crap like slurs out of my vocab entirely. It's hard work though.
Only if you're wearing sunscreen; otherwise you're still probably going to end up with cancer.
What they don't know may or may not hurt them; but you never know who's watching behind your back.
*shrug* Whatever. Don't wear sunscreen. Getting cancer is soooo much more manly. *eye roll*
I have a wicked tongue; it cuts deep. *shrug*
It only takes one itty-bitty sunburn to up your risk of cancer.
And applying sunscreen isn't "feminine". Not only is all that stupid, but your views on it are beyond distorted. Many males apply sunscreen, and plenty of them are stereotypical displays of masculineness. And plenty of females, some of them girly-to-the-max don't wear sunscreen.
Who cares if people think you're gay? Correct them and move on. It's no big deal.
Furthermore, the more you try to act "not gay".... the more people are going to think you're gay. It's a hilarious irony, but the truth.
Metaphoric, obviously. Why on earth would it be sexual? [I fail to see how it can be sexual, either, since it was being compared... to... uh, a knife. Or whatever else cuts. Then again, I suppose it can be taken sexually if one is into pain in that way.].
It's sunscreen, not sun lotion, last I knew, but whatever. "manly" guys probably wouldn't use a flowery bodywash, either... but that doesn't mean they can't use body wash at all. [um, hello? Axe? Old Spice? I wish more guys would use so-called "girly" scents anyways. I hate those cologne smelling crude-bodywashes.].
And that would probably be the best way to go about it, yes.
Yeah... but I never said anything about penetrating. Just cutting.
Metrosexuals... aren't really my type. [and they probably wouldn't want to be seen with me. hygiene issues? lacking fashion sense? not really giving much of a damn about my appearance? Um... yeah... I think I sound like a metrosexual's worst nightmare.].
I just hate cologne and anything that smells like it. Makes me gag, makes me nauseous.
Are you sure she just didn't enjoy taking the piss out of you?
They really aren't my type.
Fair enough. She could have had a thing for sadism.
Sadism is, far as I know, getting enjoyment/pleasure from someone else's pain. [The sadist may or may not inflict it themselves, and the enjoyment may or may not be sexual.].
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