So I finally get around to checking out this forum, just see what's up and all, and the whole thing seems to have ground to a halt. Well, if that subject line doesn't get the rabble good and roused, then I don't know my rabble!
Which I don't. And to be technically accurate, it's not my rabble anyway. It's Illiad's. Or maybe Kickstart's and Nea's. Or Queeg's.
Well, whoever it belongs to, just a reminder: It needs to be washed! Turn the hose on that filthy rabble already! What's it been, a whole month now? You promised when you got this rabble that you'd walk it and feed it and bathe it, and that rabble certainly doesn't look bathed to me. I'm serious now. If you can't take care of your rabble, we'll just have to pass it on to someone else. Like that nice Wil Wheaton fellow. He's always so nice to his rabble, even though it keeps rising up and attacking him all the time. Why can't you be more like Wil?
Oh, right. I forgot. You don't own any stripey sweaters and you're not such a big weenie that even Star Trek nerds look down on you. I guess that's a good thing.
Look, it isn't that we're not proud of you. We are. We're very enthused about whatever it is you do. And we're fairly positive that you must be good at it, considering how much time you spend doing it, if that really is what you've been doing. (Oh God, I hope you're not on the drugs! Tell me you aren't doing the drugs! What's that? You say you're not? Okay, that's good enough for us then. Must be someone else who's been raiding our stash.) It's just that your rabble keeps chewing on things and jumping up on the guests, and, well, we're afraid we're going to have to put it down. I'm sorry, but that's just how it has to be.
Bad rabble! You suck! Thppbbttt!!! |
