Ignatius J. Reilly

I demand silence from this type of post! SILENCE!

I was there in my pirate costume. Here's the exchange I witnessed: Crowd members: "You suck Trent. We know football better than Gailey and you suck. We listen to the smart people on message boards, and therefore we know a lot about football." Gailey: "We are a busy and dynamic organization whose mission needless effrontery and harassment can only hinder. If you molest us again, sirs, you may feel the sting of the lash across your pitiful shoulders." Crowd members: "Speak slower please. May I have a towel for my drool?" Gailey: "This liberal doxy must be impaled upon the member of a particularly large stallion." Crowd members: "I need my diaper changed. Time for my nappy!"

I initially thought this post was actually about pirates, and I'm disappointed to find out it is about some organized sporting venture. I despise athletes and athletics. However, I have often dressed up as a pirate, and was once is a swordfight. I tried to end our little duel. I called out pacifying words; I entreated; I finally surrendered. Still Clyde came, my pirate costume so great a success that it had apparently convinced him that we were back in the golden days.

Keep him forever. I enjoy the natural scent of human sweat feeding bacteria. A stench to some is a flower to others.

Nelson is a degenerate.

Your opinion is not accurate. 15 years is generous. Fortuna has us in a cycle that will last longer than that. Become comfortable with despair and failure.

Fortuna's wheel has found a position for us, and it is befitting of our place in mankind. Failure and despair are appropriate for us. If it is yet possible to enjoy our fortunes, I suggest we start. I highly suggest you find time to assault the glove, as it gives a momentary respite from our daily struggle.

My digestive system has almost ceased functioning altogether. Some tissue has perhaps grown over my pyloric valve, sealing it forever.

If you molest us again, sir, you may feel the sting of the lash across your pitiful shoulders.

I must attend to my bowels. They are revolting against the trauma of the last twenty-four hours.

I think it is of utmost importance to take someone's well-intended effort and smack them down with snarky comments. If we don't do it, Fortuna will. Well done, sir.

With the breakdown of the medieval system, the gods of chaos, lunacy, and bad taste gained ascendancy.

I suspect that we are teetering on the edge of the abyss.

I refuse to "look up." Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man's fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery.