WC Douglas to me: <What you mean, of course, you bloviating, pompous little peacock, <" Meaning" long ago escaped with this scumbag's brains through his colostomy bag but this was my reply:
How DARE you? I have never been called LITTLE in my life!!!!!!!!!!!!
As for the rest of your garbage, anybody who knows anything, knows you are a preposterous joke, the sort of foul smelling corpse that spouts dated, inaccurate cliches about your fetish, Mr. Wagner, who was less Wagnerian than you. You are like the other fools here whose onanism produces only matter best enclosed in an old Kleenex and flushed.
Your deaf, psychotic, inartistic excrement makes you an unfortunate sample of these kinds of lists. As is a huge roach that scatters when the lights come on, you're good to scare the squeamish and impress the peculiar; but worthless about anything else you touch on. Mr. Wagner was surely not a nice man, and liked worship, but the books about him in action at Bayreuth show a fine contempt for the tiny minds like yours, that worshiped with no understanding.
Back to Nibelheim, you noisy mental dwarf -- though as with Alberich and the Rhine Maidens -- it would be sad to miss the hideous comedy of your mental scrambling after beauties you've neither felt nor understood but somehow invested a meaningless life in, which you will never grasp.
As for the rest of your garbage, anybody who knows anything, knows you are a preposterous joke, the sort of foul smelling corpse that spouts dated, inaccurate cliches about your fetish, Mr. Wagner, who was less Wagnerian than you. You are like the other fools here whose onanism produces only matter best enclosed in an old Kleenex and flushed.
Your deaf, psychotic, inartistic excrement makes you an unfortunate sample of these kinds of lists. As is a huge roach that scatters when the lights come on, you're good to scare the squeamish and impress the peculiar; but worthless about anything else you touch on. Mr. Wagner was surely not a nice man, and liked worship, but the books about him in action at Bayreuth show a fine contempt for the tiny minds like yours, that worshiped with no understanding.
Back to Nibelheim, you noisy mental dwarf -- though as with Alberich and the Rhine Maidens -- it would be sad to miss the hideous comedy of your mental scrambling after beauties you've neither felt nor understood but somehow invested a meaningless life in, which you will never grasp.
The LARGE Bloviating Albert Innaurato (a pseudonym your sad Mrs. Claggart uses when in the mood.)
Too much for Kosovksy, a delicate sensibility and so stupid that half the words above would escape him.
Oh, well, enough for one go through.
JC (Mrs)
