||Re: Care to speculate with me?
||Katharine (guest, 188.8.131.52)
||December 11, 2003 at 5:54:46 PM
||Re: Care to speculate with me? by Axel
My deepest felt apologies, Mein Herr, I merely *wished* to *summarize* my *statement* as *breifly* as *possible* and *save* *people* such as *yourselves*from the *boredom* of *reading* a post *needlessly* long and *drawn* out *through* attentiveness to *P.C.* Moreso, if you decided to take my statement to a new and unexplored form of exactness and do a fair amount of inferring on the part of yourself to aquire an interpretation that so devastates your "bliss," I entirely retract. I wish bliss were more common these days and am ever the more humiliated for having damaged your web browsing bliss.
Even though my brash and overbearing e-demeanor has been so deleterious to your spiritual well being I really must contest such a blantant underestimation of the general demographic a web site such as this one would be inclined to receive. I do not, per se, beleive that my behavior or personality are at all effected by my name. Naming a child Shitead, beautiful name, does not make her a shit head. The same applies to names that are not so pristinely blatant. My aunt's name is Kennedy, and she is, oddly enough, not an ugly chief. Nonetheless, I doubt you would be at this particular place without some interest in names. Likewise my excitement at discovering that my name did NOT mean pure after all! So very excited I rounded fourth base with my boyfriend on the very spot. Whoopsie, that information should not have been made public. Point being, on a message board we will all share bits and pieces of ourselves, it's ridiculous to expect not to, after all, what makes us such strangers anyway? You could live accross and up the street from me, or work at the bank where I do business. But even if we have no relation whatsoever, we are not strangers, not enemies. I would never hurt you, nor you me (unless you are sense of humor-challenged and did not find my feciciousness to be funny). We have no reason to be anything but friends. Not that I would tell you all about my horrible foot fungus or meet you for coffee one sunny afternoon, that's silly. Treating people with self-righteousness is not something friends do. After all, I know you. Perhaps we will meet again. The odds are bad, but no worse than that I would be named Katharine, or find that it means something entirely different from what I originally thought.
I love you,
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