My Blood Runs Cold Issues

Loktar

Pinata Whacker
Fantasy novels, Loktar. You should write them. That, or comedy.

I plan on finishing George R. R. Martin's latest Game of Throne book. It will be an even gayer sex romp. I will write myself in as the Mutha of all Drag-ons. Who am I kidding that part will go to RuPaul.
 

Oerdin

Active Member
How old are you Castle? Pushing 50? One would think if you really were ambitious and hard working you would have made something of yourself by now. Instead you are a lonely drug addict sitting on welfare. An ambitious person, like you claim to be, would have established themselves in a career 30 years ago.

It is never too late to change but you are stretching that old adage to the breaking point, man.
 

The Question

Eternal
How old are you Castle?

None of your business.

Pushing 50?

Wrong.

One would think if you really were ambitious and hard working you would have made something of yourself by now.

But you're not one to think, so you wouldn't know.

Instead you are a lonely drug addict sitting on welfare.

Wrong on so many levels.

An ambitious person, like you claim to be, would have established themselves in a career 30 years ago.

At age 10? What was your career, at age 10?

It is never too late to change but you are stretching that old adage to the breaking point, man.

And if you had even the slightest grasp on the topic which you've chosen to speak on, you'd not have spoken. You're a loud mouthed pup barking at your betters. Muzzle it.
 

'Gear

RIP 1970~2018
How old are you Castle? Pushing 50? One would think if you really were ambitious and hard working you would have made something of yourself by now. Instead you are a lonely drug addict sitting on welfare. An ambitious person, like you claim to be, would have established themselves in a career 30 years ago.

It is never too late to change but you are stretching that old adage to the breaking point, man.

,

you'd
,

you're

would've
,

you're

Retard.
 

The Question

Eternal
Better yet, punk, show me something you've written. You want to yap and yap and yap and yap like an insecure little purse dog about someone else's writing:

Cowboy up and show us all something you've written. Put up or shut up, punk.

You want to act like an authority? Show me you are one or shut your fucking mouth.
 

The Question

Eternal
Let me add another note to this, you crotch-sniffing little guttersnipe:

Did you notice that when Storm launched his novel, I didn't give him shit about writing? He put up. You notice that I never bagged on Garamet about her writing and she never bagged on me about mine?

People who know writing don't bag on me about my work. The only complaint people other than WF shitwits have about my writing is that it's not done yet. You need to do better than I've done -- not that you know what I've done since all you've ever done is try to bash me through it without ever having read it objectively. But you probably couldn't craft a story to save your fucking life. Theodore Roosevelt said it best:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Again I say, fuck you. You're no one. You're the jealous, insecure little pissant taking snide little potshots from the sidelines. Do something or shut your mouth.
 

Loktar

Pinata Whacker
That's as disgusting as cupcakes made out of midgets.

Your momma didn't seem to mind. I ate a cupcake shaped like Peter Dinklage that I baked in her ass and then ate her out while humming the Game of Thrones theme song. Winter wasn't the only thing coming that night.
 

The Question

Eternal
I am profoundly disappointed by your taste in women.

My mama so far you can't even see the bitch 'cause light bends around her.
 
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