Quote:
Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
Oh my, I could never defecate on anyone (unless it were for an obscene amount of money... say, $500). I'd probably get stagefright and wind up with a submarine jarred in mid release... like a busted soft serve machine. Truly embarrassing. Not where one wants to find himself in the age of digital photography (although I guess I could be wearing a mask...).
That said, you've highlighted the difference between you and me. I'm a doer. You're a dreamer. For years you've written your murderous fantasies, but you don't act. You haven't the nads for a murder. I at least have the satisfaction that can only come from wincing while holding one's drawers about his ankles, staring out of the 41st floor conference window at Ben Franklin's visage, loosing a toxic cobra onto fine Japanese Oak.
You'll dream of decapitating nebbishes who will live on for what seems forever, to haunt and harrass your frustrated angry ex-hipster self through the long days of the tortured toil you call your life. I'll smile smugly, knowing neither Minwax, Ajax nor Clorox will ever undo the damge I've wrought.
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You are correct that I have highlighted a difference between us, and intentionally so. It is not the difference between the passive and the active, however. It is the difference between the fecal-obsessed and the . . . well, the non-fecal-obsessed. It is a baby step between fantasies of Cleveland Steamers and smearing your shit on the walls of bathroom stalls. You'll forgive me if, when we meet, I decline to shake your hand?
