Today is all about the power of the web. There was a very interesting flame war about plagiarism a few days ago involving someone gaffling Sara's work and putting it up on their site as their own. And today there was a similar situation at Squishy, and a resulting flame war on the boards. At press time, the offending girl is backing off in a bizarre, "Okay, yeah I stole. But see, wasn't this fun?" manner that I'm not buying.
Well, y'all remember last week when I got a really nasty email in which someone got mad at me for having complained eight months ago about my cell phone company changing my service contract without warning me? If you don't, here's a brief recap:
Upon receiving the email, I wrote him back, warning him that I'd be posting the email along with his address, (and told him to suck my ass, or something like that.) He didn't respond, so I indeed did post it the note and his address. Sara promptly realized he'd written from his work email and used it to find his company's web page, complete with the dude's photo and work phone number. Naturally, he got a lot of nasty emails from you vigilant and fun-loving readers -- something I anticipated and appreciated. I imagine y'all did everything short of putting him on amihotornot? (Don't do it now, even though it would be funny as shit.)
Well, a week later, I finally hear back from him. He's had enough.
Here's the original piece of mail:
here's a suggestion--would you like some cheese with your whine, you tedious little shit. every-fucking-one knows that having a mobile phone is always going to be more expensive than a land line phone. you should have studied every single line of the fine print on the contract before signing. I guess for you whining is a great way to cover up you own stupidity.
oh, and uh, Peter, you might want to use a hotmail account next time you find yourself so bored you have to send hate mail to people you don't even know... especially people who have a large online following who are more than happy to alert them to this:
[the link to his work site]
Good job, dude.
I want to apologize for the nasty message I sent to you. I was totally out of line, I admit that completely. I don't know you, and it was not cool of me to be malicious like that. I normally don't do that kind of thing, I was having a bad day.
Having said that, there's the matter of my email address and picture etc. posted on your site. I've gotten some nasty emails from total strangers, so now I know how unpleasant it is. OK, what goes around comes around.
In the spirit of camaraderie, would please take that stuff off your site. I hope that by apologizing I'm demonstrating here that I'm not a jerk, and I hope that you will reciprocate and be cool about this.
While I don't, Peter, understand what you mean by "camaraderie" -- for what reason would I feel camaraderie with you? -- I'm happy to be a good sport about it now. But seriously, your apology would have been a lot more sincere and well received if you'd done it right away after you cooled off, rather than after you got harassed by my readers. (Incidentally, I suggest you quit your job or move or get rid of whatever it is that makes you get mad over someone you don't know not enjoying being ripped-off by their cell phone company. Seriously, that's just weird, to be filled with so much rage. I'd look into it.)
So while I accept the apology, I'm not going to pull down your email address. I have a rule to at least attempt not to go back and edit myself, and I'm not going to do it for you. I never posted your photo, so I'm not sure what you're talking about there.
But I will say this: Dear Readers, please leave Peter Brun alone. Thanks for helping out. It was fun. But it's time to let sleeping whatever do whatever it is they do up in Minnesota.
OK? Chapter closed, Peter. Good luck.
I wanna li li li lick you from your head to your toes, and I wanna move from the bed down to the down to the to the floor.
I wanna ah ah you make it so good I don't wanna leave
but I got to kn kn kn know what's your fan-ta-sy.
I wanna get you in the Georgia Dome on the fifty yard line
while the Dirty Birds kick for three.
And if you like in the club we can do it
in the DJ booth or in the back of the V.I.P.
Whipped cream with cherries and strawberries on top, lick it don't stop, keep the door locked don't knock while the boat rock.
We go-bots and robots so they gotta wait til the show stop.
Or how 'bout on the beach with black sand,
lick up your thigh then call me the Pac Man.
Table top or just give me a lap dance.
The Rock to the Park to the Point to the Flatlands.
That man Ludacris in the public bathroom,
or in the back of a classroom.
How ever you want it lover lover gonna tap that ass soon.
See I cast 'em and I past 'em get a tight grip and I grasp 'em.
I flash 'em and outlast 'em,
and if ain't good then I trash 'em.
While you stash 'em,
I'll let 'em free,
and then tell me what they fantasy.
Like up on the roof roof tell yo boyfriend not to be mad at me.
I wanna get you in the bath tub,
with the candle lit you give it up till they go out.
Or we can do it on stage of the Ludacris concert,
cause you know it got sold out.
Or red carpet dick could just roll out,
go 'head and scream you can't hold out.
We can do it in the pouring rain,
runnin the train, when it's hot or cold out.
How 'bout up in the library on top of books,
but you can't be too loud.
You wanna make a brother beg for it,
give me TLC 'cause you know I be too proud.
We can do it in the White House,
tryna make them turn the lights out.
Champagne with my campaign.
Let me do the damn thing,
what's my name, what's my name, what's my name?
Ah, sauna, jacuzzi,
in the back row at the movie.
You can scratch my back and rule me.
You can push me or just pull me.
On hay in middle of the barn, rose pedals on the silk sheets.
Eating fresh fruits sweep yo woman right off of her feet.
I wanna get you in the back seat windows up,
that's the way you like to fuck.
Clogged up fog alert.
Rip the pants and rip the shirt.
Rough sex make it hurt.
In the garden all in the dirt.
Roll around Georgia Brown that's the way I like it twerked.
Legs jerk, overworked, underpaid but don't be afraid.
In the sun or up in the shade.
On the top of my escalade.
Maybe your girl and my friend can trade.
Tag team off the rope, on the ocean or in the boat.
Factories or on hundred spoke.
What 'bout in the candy store, that chocolate chocolate make it melt.
Whips and chains, handcuffs, smack a little booty up with my belt.
Scream, help play my game.
Dracula, man I'll get my fangs.
Horseback I'll get my reigns.
Schoolteacher let me get my grades… speaking of which. Look, don't rip my pants, ok? These are new. Look, I like you. I really do. I think we get along great and all, but I have my eye on someone else. Who? Well…okay, that's not true, but I just…I don't think we'd be good together. Yes, I think you're pretty, Calista, but you're just not my type. What type do I go for? My only requirement is someone who doesn't make me feel like I'm hugging a ten-year old boy. Sorry.