I received this email the other day, I assume in response to this post.
Let's break this down, shall we?
First, Rick's last name is "Rapier" which I assume is his real name because it is certainly not a word one would use to describe his wit.
What's the next thing you notice? The handwritten font. Isn't it cute? I especially like how all the "i" characters are dotted with what look like diacritic acute accents. This font is very... very... French! Viva la Font! Le Font du Triomphe! Fly away with me! Casbah! Berets! Mimes! And what have you!
(I would make mention about his improper use of apostrophe's but that would just be childish.)
Now, let me ask this. Why do I need to copulate with a goat? How does that help enlighten me to the plight of emo's ... oops, I mean emos. Now I'm not saying no. In fact, I'm intrigued by the idea. I'm just wondering how sex with a farm animal makes me more sensitive. If anyone reading this has ever had relations with a goat, send me a note (no pics please).
Next Rick asks (rhetorically, I think) if I assume emo-boys sit around and cut themselves. I never said such things. I never implied it. I did, however, say that they spend too much time whining about their suburban, middle class existences while humming the Garden State Soundtrack and quoting Napolean Dynomite.
I stand by that judgment. (Gosh)
Ok, the next section really made me mad. He accused me of being a "jock" and a "prep." Dude -- did you see my nerd score? I'm a "geek", man. Label me appropriately. I did NOT sit at the cool lunch table. (Ok, maybe I did. But I was wildly good looking and had a car) Regardless, I will not be labeled a Jock, Prep, Crip, Blood, Shark, Jet, Capulet, Montague, Hatfield, or McCoy.
I will admit, this death by finger-cutting-gas-inserting-match-swallowing sounds painful. It also sounds like a pretty cool David Copperfield act.
Best buy me a new cape.