Board Thread:Improvements and Suggestions/@comment-JPGRRocks-20131208222610/@comment-Christopherweeblingjr-20150418162437
Here's how:
1. walk to a cliff. 2. say you suck donkey dick. 3. jump off the cliff. 4. prove that you don't have a life. 5. Get a life. - The Master Troll (aka the "Get a Life" guy.)
"Once upon a time, you and all your kind lived underneath bridges, had ridges for ribs that dropped off into empy chests as if your hearts were all stolen treasures. As if an excavation crew were hired to dig up and remove the part of you that let you feel. And while the world above you invented the wheel, you stayed put, knowing it would one day need to roll over top of you to get to where it's going. You had an endlessly flowing supply line of food. You began to brood over humanity and made meals of our hope. As if crushing our spirits would make your mirrors cast better reflections than the ones they gave. As if the only way you could save yourselves was to make the world ugly so no one would notice you hiding in it. You learned to knit pain into a kind of camouflage, treated hope as a mirage that you could use to lurer in your next meal. You lived off of our fears as if you could taste what we feel. And every night, as the moon read bedtime stories to sunlight, you took darkness as an invite to head out into the world. You curled your hands into wrecking balls, your breath became squalls, you made rocks rumble, you made land shiver. You made boys and girls pray that someone would deliver them from you. We told them you aren't real.
And then one day, the world changed. But you all stayed the same. Just migrated from living underneath bridges to living underneath information super-highways. Days and nights became meaningless, each already deepened chest became an abyss that no one would ever find the bottom of. Concepts like love fell into your gravity. We turned ourselves into life preservers hoping to save as many as we could. But as fathers who stood gaurding the closet doors and mothers who secured the floors underneath beds all shock their heads not knowing how to deal with you, you, who crept into out lives with tounges like knives, stabing your words into our skins. You began to begin uploading yourselves into our homes, you had computer screens for eyes and software for bones. You turned your hate into stones and hurled them at beauty, as if you couldn't bear to see anything other than ugly, anything different. You had firgernails like flint, and scraped them along decency hoping we would be the ones to all catch fire. You had smiles like one-way barbed wire, not meant to keep us out. Meant to keep us in. Voice like a firing pin, you spoke in explosions.
It isn't cute, it isn't funny.
You've talked strangers into death, and laughed. And as each family learned to fragt skin over the wounds you gave them, you hem yourselves into the scar. You have coaxed the sober back into bars, handed out cigars at memorials, offered nooses, cliffs, and pills to those who unfortunately found you before they found help. You've praised suffering, waltzed in between tragedies, gracefully dipping misery as if we would somehow be impressed with the dexterity of your animostity. You have cheered on rape. Dashed through police tape as if it were the finish line in a race of who can be awful first. Even now, you somehow see this an an invitation to turn your keyboards into catapults, wonderign which of you can be the first to hate this best. Your loathing, already dressed in riot gear, ready to incite rage. As if each message board is a stage where you recite hostiity, turing freedom of speech into freedom of cruelty.
We are stuck with you. The same why you are stuck with you. Your mind is glue and it keeps malice fastened there like cheap wallpaper. We were once upon a time told that none of you exist, we dismissed you as make believe and myth. Now, armed only with resolve, we can no longer afford to tell ourselves that you aren't real. We will not let you make your dinners out of the things we feel."
Troll - Shane Koyczan
