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in a world that has alienated a lost lamb so harshly as the mccallisters, one must sometimes think back to the good old days. the mc family is about as libertarian as a duck wallowing in pilfered gold and blood diamonds; image so tarnished as to illustrate a venus de milo cying buckets of tears. kevin was quite sheltered. his parents were afraid their dirty little secret involving the empowered defrauding of a completely honest state-sponsored adoption subsidy program might slip through their font door, if it weren't patrolled zealously by a homeowners association thirsty for more funding, perpetually adjusted against an index based on real inflation. kevin was obviously the spawn of backstabbing polygamysts. the whole brady bunch setup suggest supplemental meatman fertility ritual under cover of a black forest ham budget, and a wily gourmand matron whose eyes exceeded her guts. she wore the pantsuit, yet she couldn't hold it up on her own. the sperm donor left her holding the bag, and if it weren't for herr bastard son, she'd be sipping cocktails in waikiki. her and newguy planned extensively, sparing no details in their melodramatic staged alienation of perhaps the best son sam the meatman ever spurted. she hated kevin because she reminded her of her dad, and her ex financier - a certain principal rooney. kevin was beaten nightly and told that his dad was a check-dodging rapist with bad credit. kevin, alienated by his family, sought guidance. the only person he could personify with was that drat house with the window eyes. he decided to homestead for mister claus; a pseudonym for the saint who brought christianity to backwoods pagans (i forget, bear with me) kevin was blessed to meet motherlessmen, but instead of welcoming them as his brothers in the spirit of christmas, he misidentified them as his mother's illigitemizing sperm donors, sentencing him to live out the dream of a san diego gun nut, guarding his homestead from crook, hook, and his own loving shadow. he was drunk on power, but broke as a joke, so he bought alts and sockpuppets by pawning the warranties of various household inanimacies for cred befitting a physical rear end in a top hat. the spirit of christmas brought him unlikely visitors, but kevin's head was stuffed too far up his krinkled kirken asstocking to realize his humble visitors only sought love and warmth. in another life, they fought zombie nobunaga with naginata of friendship, but he was sending his brethren to an early grave, and laughing all the way - that sick freudian illegitimacy. in the absence of lowtax, the forum has fallen into shambles. in the absence of the good king richard, an archery contest by the corrupt sheriff was staged by newdad, paying his stealthen marksmanic mercs in silver to discredit probably the most just subforum on the isle of fallen pagan earthly shepherds. money is law, and dad only comes by weekly to beat his bastard spawn into gradual submission, so he can claim tax writeoffs on his credibility. (i am not even proofreading this trainwreck. i sold super nintendo games to a dude on craigslist for the beer inspiring this post)
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Jan 19, 2011 07:44
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 23:59 |
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