|For Ron Mon... if that is his real name...|
- Yeah—too! Those you'd criticize—for all their competencies, talents, and integrities—may have feet of clay as all do. Their mistakes have been made. Their credulities have been strained. Their assumptions have been prosecuted. Their confidences have been betrayed. These are significant still if only for their consistent sincerity... even as I can't agree with them in all cases...
- ...Yet they are as GODS of absolute HUMILITY and perfect certification when compared with your boundless, if groundless hubris, tedious self-promotion, and abundant lack of wit...
- "You grovel at the feet of these, a piss-wit's toad on scabby knees..."
- See? You are especially obnoxious given that the "fruit" from your metaphoric "trees" screams "dolt," "lack-wit," "troll," "fatuous bore," and "coward"! Your production is laughably homocentric, hopelessly narcissistic—larded with pathetic arrogance and baseless hubris, and your anxious explication is only evidence of rank cowardice, intellectual and otherwise, full stop!
- Now... that's an exposing exposé worthy of an exposed exposure, eh? Still, entirely lost on you, I suspect. That's what reflex reductionism will do for you: enslave you to a misapplied Occam... See, it remains that sometimes it is required to "complicate the hypothesis," you klasskurtxian swine! Occam never ruled that out contrary to what you might have believed. He said, "not without necessity"! Necessity commands!
- Step off, there's a lad! Then pound cement past a prolapsed pore. There, that's better. Know too: "I'll be your huckleberry...," and strike the sun were it to provide your offense! It's. My. Job!
- You know who you are. Bunched up, hopelessly inbred, and mutually supporting, one metaphoric or literary grenade gets you all! Read on.