the Refugee Wants to Molest Your Adolescent Niece

If I were a more patient and charitable person, I might actually read the Refugee's post. But, I'm too involved in life-changing introspection to participate. I'm sorry, the Refugee, that sentence contained too many syllables for you. I'll condense: I'm thinking. You're too drunk for that (thinking), I understand. Too stupid, too. At least you're no longer underlining all your text. Unfortunately, however, you got rid of the underline rather than moving it up a half-inch and crossing out everything you write, which would be way more appropriate and humane. You spill such filth and bile it disgusts me. You are a terrible friend and dispense no encouraging words, even though you try to drag me into your world of blue-collar permanence by making me look like a convict. The only reason I'm not ashamed to know you is because of mozarella-mushroom-spinach paninis with tomat0-garlic-basil dipping sauce. That, and you're the type of asshole that gets a joke TATTOOED on your torso. Everyone needs one humongous jackass to throw objects at and laugh, and, for me, you're that jackass. Probably for a lot of other people too. It's a shame your stuck in a vicious cycle of inebriation and low wage, dirty labor. But, you should've gotten yourself an education. Instead, put things on hot metal and then make it look pretty and call that a career. I understand, now, why you can't understand giving financial priority to things like books and physical fitness over booze and permanent markings. You need the booze to cope with your backroom, servile existence. You need the tattoos for identification when your found drunk and unconcious beneath some bridge and wearing one shoe.

Because I have a job that requires sober attention and thought, I must end this posting. But, I will post more and more often, I promise. If only because a blog with my name, dominated by a stinky boozehound with a penchant for the birthday girl at a sweet sixteen party, is more than embarassing.