hahahha I love his hatemail.
HTML Code:
To: maddox@xmission.com
Subject: response requested
I USED TO LOVE KICKING THE SHIT OUT OF COMPUTER SCIENCE FAGS LIKE YOU BACK IN
COLLEGE. I HAVE A QUESTION THOUGH HAVE YOU EVER FUCKED A "GIRL" THAT WAS UNDER
200 POUNDS. I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT PUSSY BOY SOFTWARE GEEK THAT YOU SUCK
OFF UNDER YOUR CUBICLE. I DON'T KNOW IF I SHOULD WRITE THIS EMAIL YOU MIGHT
HAVE YOUR POSSE OF KLINGON WARRIORS SHOOT INVISIBLE LASERS AT ME. BY THE WAY
DOES YOUR MOM KNOW YOU HAVE THIS SITE. SHE'S NOT GONNA TAKE YOU TO THE STAR
TREK CONVENTION NEXT YEAR IN DENVER IF YOU KEEP THIS UP YOUNG MAN. WELL IT WAS
NICE EMAILING YOU. KEEP SUCKING DICK MAYBE SOME DAY YOUR DAD WILL ACTUALLY PAY
YOU FOR IT.
Seven sixteenths of one inch:
[IMG]http://maddox.xmission.com/keyboard4.jpg[/IMG]
That's the distance you'd have to move your pinky in order to not sound like an idiot. I know the burden of pressing shift to capitalize is a great one, but c'mon Turing, you can do better than that. I used to type emails in caps like yours, but then I decided that I didn't want a job mixing concrete.
You said you had a question for me, something about a 200 pound girl (implying that I pork fat chicks, a cunning strategy by an equally cunning linguist), but the damndest thing: I searched your entire email for a question mark and didn't find any. Could it be because you didn't really ask me any questions since none of your sentences ended with a question mark, you dolt?
You used to enjoy "kicking the shit out of computer science fags" eh? So are you saying that all programmers are gay, or that you enjoyed "kicking the shit out of" the gay ones? I presume the former since you are after all, an idiot. You do have a point though: writing code all day is much more homoerotic than patting your jock buddies on the ass after a sweaty game of catch, then winding down with a nice, steamy, group shower. Maybe if you weren't such a sexually insecure dumbass, you'd have spent the time you pissed away playing highschool sports--you know, that thing nobody in the real world cares about--learning how to read instead so that you don't end up bagging my groceries after you graduate with your 1.2 GPA (rounded off nicely with that C you got in wood shop).
You know what the best thing about knowing that the nerds you picked on will always be more successful, have hotter girlfriends, a
home that doesn't have wheels, and a stock portfolio with numbers larger than you can count is? Doesn't matter, get me a coffee.