NB: There is nothing studious about this post, although it pretends to be. Mostly, it is just bitching that is pervasively insidious masquerading as a formal gonghan letter.

Ah, what an interesting spate of events. Yeah, even though I'm dying, I'm still gonna leave my one purple eye open till the very last moment. I'm taking a leaf from Mr Inversely Proportionate to His Whatever He Touted To Be Huge's book. This means to maintain a similar bullseye and launch my projectiles, albeit non-physical, relegating myself to verbiage. Then again, I'm not well-versed in the language, so I can only be a supporting character. But what a wonderful delightful enterprise! To bring down the Collosus that makes us peep around his(her?) huge legs, like petty babies with lollipops in our mouths. Type, hands for me!

I hereby curse you, the Goliath-eress of our time, to be abject to such similar fire and brimstone for the rest of your professional life, and never to recover from the shock and sadness of such an attack, with repetition of such 'terrible' events every single cycle. Go David! Show 'em what we're made of! Take your digital sling and binary boulders and whack them. WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK. Actually only one was needed to start the reflex arc action. What's the point of a second one and third and so on and so forth, to turn the transparent and clear to a more ruddy shade. I’d laugh. But then again, it's like, how do I put it? Using boulders for sand? Might as well change to a catapult. How inappropriate. But still, I'm in no position to criticize something already done. I can only support or disprove it. Just like HCL Paper 1 Question 5s.

It is not the boasting that brought down the giant. It was the insensitivity, rigidity, stupidity and the hypocrisy. But I am kind. I will lift the curse once you show signs of repentance. For you have sinned! I might have had my suspicions and even doubts about the authencity of my hypothesis, but after today, I know.

You know, after living on this earth for some time and reaching the end of it, I'd have thought only certain groups were capable of hypocrisy, but it seems like the other major sector is up-and-coming as a growing threat to the monopoly the former has on artificiality. It's like swimming in the deep dark sea where you're not sure if a jellyfish will float along and conveniently give you 11 stings whilst you thought it was so beautiful, or if a suckerfish will come along and suck the life out of you when you least expect it. You need some light, to know where to go. And so you follow the light buoys. Now these light buoys are special. They have a mind of their own. So they can choose whether or not to help you. If they don't like you, they'd just suddenly turn off their lights in a whimsical capricious fashion, swim behind you, and shove themselves up your *ss and purposely break themselves, to make themselves look pathetic, whilst you get an electric shock and die in the middle of the sea, for all the little fishies and some big fish and some sharks and one particular spermwhale to see, with only the sky and the sea for specatators and judges. Rather, voyeurs. But that last part didn't make much sense.

Ridiculous. I'm reconsidering trying for RJC now. Not much, but still. Ah, whatever. Raffles - truly the hallmark of excellence. 180-year-old old shop as a certain rotund lady said, and it's all going down the drain. Not too satisfied with the service, can I complain to the manager, even though I'm dumb as I'm at the end of my long stay? Except this time, the customer is mostly in the wrong. 9/10 times, he will be, unless you include special cases like RJCGPTeacherTerror.mov, then you'd get 8.5 times, which still isn't great odds. I am almost inclined to think that there are some tiny little elves working their horrendous magic, with the effeminate gnomes gliding around, slowing chipping away at everything inside that hotel, that's why its falling to bits. Destroy from the inside. When everything's finished, you can never rebuild, because everyone was trapped inside. Hell, I'd sooner be the boss of a whole chain and counterfeit franchise of Hotel 81s and 69s.

It's nothing personal, but you got to admit the appropriateness and deservedness of such a harsh punishment of Stacie Orrico's grandmother. (and how good my extended metaphors are) Let's be childish now and sing the Elmo Song to celebrate. Sheesh.

quixoticka eulogized @ 11:16:00 pm