I guess we can find solace in the fact that nobody lapped up your quasi-intellectual bullshyt this time.
I'm assuming the smell of it is beginning to permeate through most of their monitors by now.
The truth is, you're the socially awkward dweeb in reality who sat alone at lunch.
Likely bullied and ostracized and saw the females you held the door and pulled chairs out for with the "niglet" a$$holes who made your life a living hell.
Only problem, you were too much of a passive fairy to do much about it.
So you log on here, name yourself after your favorite rap song, and play the contrarian, pretentious, boy scout for revenge while simultaneously making a concentrated effort to use quips like "mang" so you don't come off like the total geek that you are -
( which coincidentally, makes you look like even more of a herb.)
For as much as you can pretend you hate the coli, you love it, because it's the only place you can come and feel anyone gives a single iota about what you have to say.
Problem is now, your ruse is unraveling and most people can smell the bytch radiating from you at this point.
Keep running your mouth like a little diva behind your keyboard.
You know you'd get your jaw separated flapping your gums offline and saying the things you say here to other men.
I don't have to remind you that you're a bytch, though.
You see the same twinkle in your eye that I do every time you look in the mirror.