Dear friends, dear deplorables, I say this from the bottom of my heart – I’ve never liked any of you. It’s all just been a fake. Here you sit, on your internet sites, thinking that the world gives a damn, when in fact all your hits come from spotty teenage boys in mainland China. That’s why you don’t sell any of your crappy books.
Cappy, I say this with great feeling – it’s over. Nobody ever liked you. Nobody. Maybe that Davis guy once, but he’s now in the corner singing mau-mau songs and smelling his guns. You’re getting old. Look at you. The hair, the beard, if that’s what you call it. All of your videos are terrible. Really they are. We just said we liked them to make you feel better. But we know you went to college. Look around, Aaron. There’s not a friend here who loves you. But Aaron’s having a fine time. He’s never had so much money; ask his girlfriend.
And Vox. You’re living there in Italy; who do you think you are, George Clooney? Not with that hair. You’re making a fool of yourself, you’re going nowhere. I have a message for you, Vox – Marco Mangananzo was hurt; Fambino Bombazo, two bullets in the head Thursday. Vox Day is one of the greatest editors in the business. Just ask him, he’ll tell you. He’ll tell anyone. I say that and all of his vile faceless minions are there and they’re saying, “Is that okay, Vox? Can we laugh at that?”
There’s Didact. What sort of name is that, anyway? Did you find it off a box of Cheerios? Look at you with all the flies hanging around you. Here’s some mud – finish your hut. But we like having Didact around. I mean, who else would we get to taste our soup?
I’m only kidding of course. There’s the Cynical Libertarian. He’s happy now that someone said his name. He was going to go into shock in case his name wasn’t mentioned. What a great name he has. And listening to his podcast is such a treat. One of the great stammering idiots of our time. Aaron Clarey’s warmup. The Cynical Libertarian has made the claim that I am his greatest friend. I have never met the Cynical Libertarian. I’ll put it another way, the Cynical Libertarian goes to many gay parties. Twenty years he’s being doing this. Don’t milk it any more, just walk away. We all need a break from you.
Matt Forney. What an exciting individual, really he is. Matt’s idea of a good time is to sit on his pickup and listen to his dog bark. And look at that body. Looks like a hard boiled egg that didn’t break on the dish. And now he’s living in Hungary. He’s hoping that the old men sitting in the Budapest cafes will make him look younger. Well they won’t, Matt. You look old. Like a sweat stain on Bill Murray’s Caddyshack jersey.
And Peter Grant. Writing westerns. Thinks he’s Roy Rogers. Gonna get himself a water gun and his own pony. He walks around like he’s afraid his gun’s going to go off and ruin him. Isn’t this fun, Aaron? You’re staying up with the grown ups and everything! Here, have a cookie.
Roissy, it’s good to have you here I suppose. Someone get him a phone book so he can see me. Rossiy, when we read all the posts you wrote, none of them were great. None of them. But you have a great future in front of you. Maybe you can get Lena Dunham to help you with some of your stuff. You could work together. It’d be a great story.
The Z Man, who could forget him. Have you seen his wife? If you threw a stick she’d bring it back. Names himself after a letter in the alphabet because that’s the only one he knows how to use. You’re an old man, Z. It’s all over. Stop what you’re doing, you have nothing. The people from the old folks called and they have the front row ready for you. We all feel embarrassed to be on the same internet as you. I don’t get many chances to talk to you so this is a big moment for me. I want to say this from the bottom of my heart – stop calling me. You’re bothering me.
But I’m kidding, really I am. I hate everyone. The whites, the blacks, the purples … but mostly the blacks. Tim Newman, what a great guy. Tim, no matter what everyone else says about you, I think you’re okay. Really I do. I’ve read many, many pieces by Tim, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, as a writer, he is weak. My wife would have told me to be polite but unfortunately she swam in our pool today with her jewelery on and she drowned.
And Roosh V, a man with a beautiful beard. Good luck, sir, and give my best to the folks in Bethlehem. Roosh was my idol when I was a boy. Now I’m getting shock treatments. Roosh was a great, great star. Up there with the best of them. I’ve been speaking to the home, Roosh – you’ve been spitting up again. Why do I kid Roosh? Because he’s old. He’s old and what can he do to me?
But you’re all beautiful people, really you are. Just keep believing that and see how far it’ll get you. Nowhere.
Update: Before I get any more alarming emails, this is a tribute to Don Rickles and almost every one of these lines is a direct Rickles’ quote. Jesus, people.