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Anonymous
2015-12-06 19:12:53 Post No. 7429722
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Anonymous
2015-12-06 19:12:53
Post No. 7429722
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Dear Aristotle:
YOUR COCKSUCKING BOOK HAS REDUCED ME TO A GIBBERING MAN-APE WHOSE ONLY RESORT TO DEALING WITH THE ALMIGHTY loving GRIEF IT'S BESTOWED UPON ME IS TO SCREAM AND HURT MYSELF.
Seriously, I am jumping up and down and throwing my shit in handfuls at the loving wall in some impotent primal effort to get the thing to make sense. I have been sitting here trying to enjoy your book - YOUR BOOK, YOUR COLLECTION OF ESSAYS, YOUR CONTRACT BETWEEN AUTHOR AND READER THAT THE READER WILL ENJOY YOUR PRODUCT - but instead the fucking thing's been crawling out of my hands and taking warm shits in my gaping eyes, Swear to god, you should have just added a little door to the front cover through which a hand pops out and flips me off, because I am insulted that your editor or publishers or whatever brainless shitstove three genes short of a monkey FAGNUT prints your books through thought that a person with more than a single loving digit IQ could enjoy "On Poetics" INSULTED
WORK WITH ME HERE: The goal's simple enough!Read the first line Hey, that's fine, it's just like any of Plato's works; not a problem! Only deal is your cross-eyed tongue-slapping ass decided to give the obscure meaning every single fucking line possible
HURRR, you say. THAT'S JUST THE CHALLENGE. IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE EASY. Well fuck that noise, you lopsided frankenfaced fuckfurter.
Tell me, please, why does the BOOK have to win? Huh? What happens when the book wins and I lose? Is there some huge fucking kegger waiting for it when it gets done? Is there money involved? Or perhaps the motives are more sinister. Maybe the book's family is being held hostage by another book and that book has it's cock in Nicomachean Ethics's wife's mouth and he's holding a cell phone up to her and Nicomachean Ethics can hear her pained moans and cries for help and the asshole book then says, "You beat that cock-sucking human, or I'll blow her brains out." I COULD UNDERSTAND THAT. I CAN BE SYMPATHETIC.
It's not any fun if I can't understand, you faggot. I want to move on. I want to unlock whatever piece of shit platitude you have hidden away from me so I can start philosophizing and living the literary lifestyle. When your book prevents me from fully enjoying the product I have bought you have failed in your fucking mission to deliver a book. You lose! You break the contract! You contract the gay and fucking DIE DIE DIE.
