Wright Answers The Mail, Accidentally Unleashes Toothy Reptiles

Some of you asked about my hate mail.

Specifically the stuff in response to the previous post.

That post, Deadlock, hit big.

It’s still hitting big.

I don’t know that it’s viral per se, but it’s big. Like more than 200,000 page views in the last 36 hours big. Like shared 20,000 times or more on Facebook. Like the size of Newt Gingrich’s ego big. Like the size of Michele Bachmann’s insanity big. Okay, maybe not quite that big, but big. That’s what I’m saying here.

So, of course, there’s going to be hate mail.  Because there’s always hate mail when I write something that goes viral. Hell, there’d be hate mail if I wrote about cotton candy and bacon (and how Obama is trying to outlaw both! Socialism! Nazis! They’ll take my bacon when they pry it from my hot sticky hand! Ur, um, but I digress).

So anyway, hate mail.

A lot of hate mail.

Now, you know me, I recycle. I’m not just going to throw the hate away after it’s done warmed my flinty black heart, it’s still good for lining the catbox or for compost. And I know how much you love my hate mail. And because I love you, each in your own special way, I was going to do my usual thing and pull out selected bits and snark on each one individually for your entertainment. Because I know that makes you smile and dream happy dreams of peace and bacon flavored brotherhood and Canadian style universal healthcare.

Because, as I said, there’s a lot of hate mail.

But the problem is that there’s really not much variety this time around.

I’ve got quantity but not much quality.

Frankly, I look at the volume of messages clogging my inbox like so many undigested jelly donuts in Rush Limbaugh’s large intestine, and I think the least the nuts could do is maybe put a bit more effort and creativity into their insanity, that’s what I’m saying.

After the first couple dozen or so messages, the frothy yellow bilious hate becomes a bit redundant and it all just sort of runs together.

Listen, about the two hundredth time you get damned straight to bible hell, you just sort of nod and say to yourself, well, you know it’s got to be better than this bilge. At least Lucifer knows how to spell and, and yeah, he may be the evil dark lord of the underworld and all but, you know, he can structure a sentence in a grammatically correct fashion. Jesus should have spent a little less time on parables and maybe a bit more time teaching English 101, because seriously, Folks, crack open a copy of Strunk & White. Please.

So anyway, like I said, it all just starts to run together. Hell. Socialism. Jesus. Hate America. Rapture. God. Communists. States Rights. End Times. Ben Franklin. Obamacare. Federalist Papers. Gun Rights. Antichrist. Small Government. Thomas Jefferson. Bleat bleat, blurt blurt, ook ook.  Honestly, how many damned times can you read the word “Nazi” before you start thinking about rounding up all of these hysterical Tea Party chowderheads and herding them into FEMA death camps? No, really, hand over the tinfoil hat, Ben Franklin, and get in the sack, get in it right now.

And then I thought, hey, you know how when Hollywood is turning a big complicated story with lots of people in it into a movie?  Sometimes they take several similar bland secondary characters from the book and for brevity’s sake and budgetary reasons they just kind of mash them all together into a more interesting “composite” character?

Just so.

If you took all of the tediously similar hate mail that I’ve gotten from that last post on Stonekettle Station, and you pulled out the prevailing common themes, mushed all the commenters together into a sort of noxious hybrid of red-faced spittle-flecked yellow-eyed beer-bellied powdered-wig-wearing booger-eating flag-buggery, this is what you’d end up with:

(We shall henceforth refer to this composite character as “Corn,” as in Corndogus Walkuserectus. You may now conjure up the appropriate mental image, don’t forget the powdered wig).

Me: Welcome to Stonekettle Station, how may I help you?

Corn: I’m very upset. I want to lodge a complaint.

Me: Spiffy. Put on this official complaint suit and stand in the square labeled “DANGER! Keep Clear!”

Corn: Why does the complaint suit smell like ham loaf?

Me: No reason. One of our customer service representatives will be along momentarily.  You’ll recognize him by his toothy grin.

Corn: I read your stupid blog. It makes me, like, crazy angry. There’s a lot of stuff in there that I don’t like.

Me: What about the part with the Velociraptors?

Corn: I didn’t actually read it. It’s too long, and there are really big words.

Me: Like “velociraptor?”

Corn: Dinosaurs are a lie told by Satan to make Jesus soggy and hard to light.

Me: Fun fact, scientists have discovered that velociraptors love ham. Tasty delicious ham.

Corn: I will now tell you why you’re wrong.

Me: About the velociraptors?

Corn: About everything.

Me: You didn’t read the essay. Did you maybe read any of the three hundred comments?  Likely your criticisms have already been addressed.

Corn: I’m busy saving the country for Jesus, I don’t have the time to read that stuff!

Me: But you don’t mind wasting my time, is that about it?

Corn: My penetrating observations are totally new and different and all my own and not like the other ten dozen nuts who’ve already posted the same exact things word for word. I get my information directly from Alex Jones, not third hand like those other guys.

Me: Let me get a fresh beer.  And remember: Velociraptors are more scared of you than you are of them.  Back in a sec.

 

[… sometime later …]

 

Corn: Hello?

Me: Good Gravy! You’re still here? All in one piece too. Darn it. 

Corn: I will now refute your little essay by regurgitating a big hairball of Glenn Beck like a cat yakking up noxious orange goo onto your brown leather beanbag chair.

Me: I admire your ability to choke down both Little Friskies and conservative talk radio. I can understand the urge to vomit. However, I don’t, in point of fact, own a burnt orange leather couch, you’re thinking of John Boehner. 

Corn: Leathery … what?

Me: It’s your argument.

Corn: What about it?

Me: You’re drooling on yourself. There, just wipe, right at the corner … uh, never mind.  You were saying?

Corn: OK, I shall now mock your manhood by swiftboating your military service.

Me: Meh, it’s been done. And yet my manhood remains massively intact. See?

Corn: Well, your fans are all sycophants!

Me: Not all of them. Some of them are toadies, a few are henchmen, there are some hangers-on, and there’s one fop but he’s more of an admirer and not really what you could call a fan.

[edit: I somehow forgot to mention the Minions, Cronies, various and assorted Stormtroopers, Fangirls, Fanboys, Groupies, Lurkers, Skulkers, Berserkers, and some guy named Steve.  My most abject apologies, loyal followers]

Corn: Seriously?

Me: It’s a union thing.

Corn: What if I just call you a communist and claim you’re trampling my Freedom of Speech?

Me: Are you guys all reading off the same crib notes?

Corn: Read?

Me: Did you have an actual complaint?

Corn: You said that America is a democracy. Ha ha ha. You’re a big dummy.

Me: Ah, I see. 

Corn:  Dummy!

Me: I don’t suppose you’d buy that in common vernacular, one of the several accepted definitions of democracy is America’s form of republican governance? Kind of like “America” is a commonly accepted term for the United States, even though the US isn’t the only country in America.

Corn: THAT’S A LIE! YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Me: Could you maybe act more like a cured meat product? Perhaps honey maple flavored? 

Corn: We’re a Republic!

Me: Okay. We’re a republic. Here, try wearing these pineapple rings.

Corn: Hah! It was a trick question! We’re a democratic republic!

Me: Demonic Publication. Got it. Look could you maybe wiggle around a bit? Velociraptors are attracted to motion.

Corn: You’re such an idiot. America is really a constitutional republic!

Me: Okay, we’re a constipated public. Maybe if you tried whistling… Here boy! Dinner time!

Corn: What a moron! We’re really a representative democracy!

Me: Damn it, I think those scientists are full of it. Try acting like a stegosaurus.

Corn: Obamacare is all tricks! Tricks and lies! Everybody hates it!

Me: That’s it! Big, dumb, and cold blooded! Keep doing that. 

Corn: Obama is an alien reptile in a rubber human suit! He stole the elections with his Magic Negro Ray of Chocolate Mojo! He’s totally a fake president! Obama hates America! He’s a Muslim!  Liberals eat babies! He wasn’t even born in America! False Flag! False Flag!

Me: Damn it, now you scared him off. That’s some powerful crazy, you’ve got going on there. Do they even have a name for what’s wrong with you? Seriously? I bet you could get that treated … under Obamacare.

Corn: Do they have a name for what’s wrong with you? Yes they do, Nazis!

Me: Hey, I’m not the one acting like a shrieking soon to be extinct dinosaur. Dude. Just saying.

Corn: Obmacare! Obamacare! Socialism! Abortion! Gay Marriage! Doom! Doom!

Me: Say, could you excuse me for a minute?

Corn:  Ah Hah! I win! I win! Wait, where are you going?

Me: It’s the beer. I need to see a man about a large carnivorous reptile.

 

 

Honestly, if I see one more email about how Obama “stole” the election via some “cult of personality” or how the ACA was passed because of some secret magic Negro Mojo so therefore it’s okay to implode the government, I will feed myself to the velociraptors just to make it stop.

Select all. Delete.

And the mailbox is clear for a brief moment.