I received an anonymous comment on my blog today. Normally, that's something in itself. But this particular comment - or, rather, string of comments - is especially special because, having read it, it seems that there is someone out there, a specimen of humanity so utterly superior to all others that he (or she), simply by reading my blog, is able to sum me up so accurately that I am compelled to share his/her message with you, so that all three of my readers can finally see what a year's worth of blog posts has failed to convey:
Ive read every single word of this crap, and I have proof that Darwin was wrong. To see it, just look in the mirror, I shudder to write your name, but write it I must, if only to let posterity know the name of all human woes, that is Meea. You are as insignificant as a fossilised pile of wombat droppings. And yet you persist in being. Why? It mystifies me as to why the world is so intent on eradicating diseases like polio, anthrax and bubonic plague. For as long as you exist, what have they achieved? Scientists have long speculated as to the possibility of a third force in the universe, one of repulsion. I know that third force to be you. Are you really alive? Or are you just something that forgot to crawl back into the petri-dish? You are clearly not of this world but of some gaseous giant. Why is it that on those unfortunate occasions when I think of you the words "slushy methane" come to mind? Let's briefly touch upon your sexual habits. Does your partner know what you get up to with the Vegemite and pork sausages? It really shouldn't surprise me that such things and such actions give you pleasure, but in an appalling way, it does. I have had fantasies about attacking you with a machete, but I dare not. I once cut up a starfish, which was so neurologically simple that each piece grew into a clone of the original. Your coleopteron brain no doubt shares certain appalling similarities with such creatures. If you once had any redeeming quality, it has been strangled and garrotted by your other brutish traits. To hear you snorting you way through what you imagine to be social discourse is to know that language has done nothing for the advancement of this species. And let's not mention what you do with your index finger when you think no-one is looking. By now, no doubt, you will have dribbled on this epistle. Your bug eyes will be swimming incomprehensively in their sockets. O God, you are so stupid
Wow. Bravo, Anonymous! Allow me to revel, unworthy as I clearly am, with my Vegemite fetish and simple language, in the searing glory of your infinite wisdom. Oh, that you would be so magnanimous as to identify your magnificent self, that I may know what it is to speak the name of the very epitome of genius! How I have yearned, all my pointless life, for someone to understand me so deeply, explain me so utterly to myself that I am finally relieved of the burden of trying.
Seeing that I've long since lost any hope of finding my way back to that petri-dish (or is it the giant's arsehole I'm supposed to be looking for?), and we're all stuck in this miserable world so sullied by my very existence, I hope you'll forgive the presumption, but I feel that I must address one or two points:
So you've uncovered living proof that Darwin was wrong. That's pretty amazing. Just a shame your discovery is as insignificant as a fossilised pile of wombat droppings - and that despite the fact that in my utter insignificance, I represent all human woes; That's an awful lot of human woes. Maybe it sounded extremely smart in your head, but I'm damn sure that there are a couple of billion people out there who would agree that these human woes I represent in all my insignificance are, in fact, of great significance to a great many, and you have essentially contradicted yourself. Not only have you contradicted yourself, but you have based your conclusion of my insignificance on the premise that I am proof that Darwin was wrong and that mine is the name of all human woes. In the language of basic logic, this is called a non sequitur: an inference or a conclusion that does not follow from the premises. Now, do you seriously think you're up to a logical discussion of the nature of life and the reasons for living it?
You ask me why it is that whenever you think of me, you think of "slushy methane"; I wouldn't know, and I imagine that if anyone ever managed to identify the source of others' mental aberrations, they'd become obscenely wealthy overnight. Good luck with sorting that out, though.
It comes as no great surprise that you'd mention sexual habits in your little tirade - this is entirely unrelated to any of your earlier statements - typical of the illogic you've demonstrated throughout your attempt at a personal attack on me thusfar. If you think about it carefully, you'll realise that this comes across as neither, clever nor intimidating, but frustrated and desperate. The kind of frustrated and desperate that turns people into perverts, rapists and psychopaths.
You also might want to think twice about telling people how you'd like to hack them into little pieces. The internet is a wonderful thing, and comments such as you've made here can be traced back to you.
You carry on about neurological simplicty and my coleopteron brain - such fancy words! (What have you got against starfish and beetles anyway?) You rant about the failure of language to do anything for the advancement of humankind - and you do make it sound oh, so impressive. But considering that you've already concluded that I'm beyond incapable of comprehending any of what you have to say, what's the point?
Finally, all of this, and you haven't the nerve to identify yourself, preferring to spew your poison from the safe distance afforded you by your anonymity?
Fuck you, you coward. Grow some balls!