The Loathsome SirPosted: March 10, 2012
We’ve had a few trolls from time to time, as does any blog, but in June 2011 we had two of the best. From LGF. With clever snark, it was one of the funniest troll threads on Diary of Daedalus, and it deserves a revisit.
We’ll not name names, but there was a back and forth tag team that produced some of the best spontaneous free-form prose we’ve seen. The duo who posted here made the erroneous assumption that the populace of Diary of Daedalus is an homogenous group, when in fact we have commenters with widely divergent political views, religious beliefs and nationalities. We’re a hodgepodge melting bucket of all stripes, here only to mock Charles Johnson, and that transcends, um, stuff.
So the two trolls assumed that we’re all gun-totin’ conservative cowboys, and they rolled with it. The story that resulted was interspersed with asides, shown here in brackets [—]. We culled out the best of the thread and included some of the lead-up intro. We haven’t edited for grammar, caps or spelling, and we left the line breaks in, too. Grab a quart of Pabst, git yer spurs on, and saddle up, because THIS was a hoot.
[Already the Great Khan was leafing through his atlas, over the maps of the cities that menace in nightmares and maledictions: Enoch, Babylong, Yahooland, Butua, Brave New World
He said: “It is all useless, if the last landing place can only be the infernal city, and it is there that, in ever-narrowing circles, the current is drawing us.”
And Polo said: “The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.”]
[what I would like is for them to attempt to refight the civil war now, now that their diet is made of butter and their mothers are made of ham]
[What to do when you’re embarassed of your dick? Buy a gun and correct spelling!]
[luxuriate amongst your history channel dvds in your tract home, of course
and wait to die like a brave bearded man
bravely bravely bearded]
[do you own a real ten gallon hat]
[Faulkner was a drunken sot.]
[do you own a lasso]
[Do’nt make fun of texans, they’ll threaten you with the m-60s they took home from the ‘nam.]
[i have it on good authority they totally know how to BBQ]
[I wonder what they all did with their LGF bikers jackets.]
[The Daily Kos Gnoll with platemail attacks you with a hemp dagger
do you attempt to parry using your totally manly LGF minion biker jacket
what do you do???]
[D&D is for nerds, this is more paintball and pretending to be Confederate Colonel territory.]
[Ever done the thing where you put on camo and pretend you’re all spec ops and using the hand signals to engage the enemy in a coordinated attack]
[yeah me neither]
WHAT DO YOU DO????
DO YOU FIGHT OR RUN???]
[i’ll ask you, maybe you’re from texas]
[do you ever say rootin’ tootin’]
[Do you keep your personal Graveyard?]
[are you an “internet desperado”???]
THE LOATHSOME SIR
They Called him The Loathsome Sir, because he was loathsome, and everyone called him sir
mostly, people called him sir because he threw machetes around a lot until people started calling him sir
well anyway, he came into this roadhouse, and the man behind the counter had a spider for a head
and the Loathsome Sir did his thing, and the man with a spider for a head, well it was the damnest thing
he’d just catch every machete hurled his way, sure as God made green apples, all calm like
stacked them in a neat pile until The Sir was fresh out, then he nodded to his wares, a bottle of rye, and a bottle of sheep’s guts.
‘Jesus. I’ll have the rye.”
“Coming right up, sir.” said the man with a spider for a head, somehow
And the Loathsome Sir smiled.
[how do you feel about “the alamo”]
[What exactly happens if you mess with Texas?]
[is it true that Chuck Norris is Sainted in El Paso]
[Fuck Chuck Norris. Overrated goon.]
[but he fought in the Pentagon]
[are you a ranch hand]
[do you have a truck with the ladies on the mudflaps]
[Do you worship St. Chuck?]
with a face made of rawhide and a horse made of gunmetal he looked out onto the horizon and he said this is Marlboro city
and then he smoked a cigarette made of a dead man’s shoe and he laughed
[do you wear spurs]
[have you ever loved a gun
i mean really loved it, the way a man loves a sandwich, or Ronald Reagan]
he saluted the morning sun as the cattlemen surrounded his one-horse shack, each of them carrying fifty guns apiece
split a piece of wood with his bare knuckles, ate his first born in one bite, and he grinned a toothless grin
this is the last time i trust a cactus, he thought, as he danced the six shooter dance
ever seen a man headbutt a steak? asked the bartender as the mysterious stranger walked in, stole another man’s shot, gulped it down, and chased it by eating the glass
no, and I never will, replied the Rawhide Heaver, and he calmly walked across the street and hurled the competing saloon at the first, cardplayers and all
Well the thunder from my steely fist made all the glasses jangle.
When I shot him, I was so handsome…
It was the light, it was the angle
I once saw a puerto-rican girlfriend scale a wall for a man’s jacket
not to have the jacket, per se, to eat the man alive wearing it, bones and all
see, the leather provided a rich seasoning, a cuisine only a discerning cannibal would become accustomed to, in their fashion
you wouldn’t think puerto rico a den of cannibalism, and you’d be right, the cannibals know no flag or country
[have I ever told you the story about The Loathsome Sir?]
[have I ever told you about the Star-Crossed Town of Destiny?]
[are those foes of the Loathsome Sir?]
[for my only master is the Loathsome Sir]
[Do you own pearl handled revolvers]
[have I ever told you the story about The rawhide Heaver?]
[also, do you call it sauce or gravy, where you’re from]
[do you call it pop or soda]
These men are all great lovers
much like the Rawhide Heaver is a great lover of throwing saloons
Once upon a time there was this guy
He had a .50 cal IMI desert eagle and a totally bitchin’ harley.
in his old nomad’s eyes, reflected the colors of America, and by colors I mean the red white and blue
he touched his sidearm, made sure it still hung like a sword at his side as he found the exit he knew he had to take
mostly lovers of throwing saloons, those what could lift a saloon
a lesser man, why they’d have to settle for heaving a bungalow
It was the desert, wide and open as the dreams of a young nation. He knew trouble was around the corner, and he was duty bound to find it.
he drove into Destiny
the town of Destiny, that is, population 2800
well, actually only 800 and some at the moment, what with the massive anglerfish on tanktreads eatin’ and rapin all the townsfolk
some had left, some were packin’ up, some were busy being chewed n swallowed
the man looked around at the carnage and wondered why you’d stick round a town like Destiny when a hollerin tin plated anglerfish the size of the ol’ one room school come around, why he ate old bob barton the mailman one bite
ate his wife too, but she was a whore
the man grunted, “Fish. I hate Fish.”
Someday he would find the madman, the bastard ‘scientist’ who thought he was so clever crossbreeding fish with Tanks.
The man, of course, didn’t trust scientists as it was, and this was just another nail in the coffin.
in this case, literally, as he pulled out his Nailgun.
this was the nailgun they should have finished the job with here in Destiny, for he had returned to Destiny to see his ma and pa buried
they weren’t dead though, they were just assholes
just as well, science had finished the job for him, he would have seen them buried alive but if it’s all the same to the thing out there, it’s all the same to him
scooped up his mother and father, all the gristle and chum and eyeballs and some assorted townsfolk parts, couldn’t be too careful who was what, though he was pretty sure ma Bessie didn’t have three halves of a jawbone
As he turned around, the mess of flesh in his hands, he saw suddenly the mayor of Destiny, and she had the drop on him.
“You never shoulda come back you sunuvabitch!” said the she said, as she lovingly fingered her silver inlaid H&H express.
Quick as lightning, he threw the assorted gore at her and dove for cover.
HIS MOTHER WAS ALIVE!
[i heard tell round these parts an American got a hot sauce aint no european can touch]
Ma bessie was a formidable foe, she stood 8’4″, weight 672 pounds, from parts unknown, with eyes of coal and a face to stare a hole through a Chinese man
Heavy boots of lead too, like the song says
The man who came to Destiny began to question his decision, as an errant blast from the elephant gun split the general store behind him in half lengthwise
he coaxed the ol hog to life and raced down a side street, flames spewing blue from the exhaust, where newly raped townsfolk were complaining of chafing
He soon stopped, facing down what had to be the largest metal fish he’d ever seen. It was Crusty Hammer! he turned to go the other way, but there was that hideous she-beast, his mother on the other side.
But the Man who came to Destiny was a man of Decision. He fired at the giant fish-crustacean- thing with one hand, while he gave his mother the finger with the other.
He might die this day, but he’d be fucked if he was gonna get raped.
The Man, this Man of Decision squinted at the turn of phrase.
It occurred to the Man Who Came To Destiny, that it wasn’t as poetic to be The Man Who Got The Fuck Out of Destiny, but he realized nobody would write his epitaph except his mother who was at this moment attempting to hasten the event, and at any rate it would probably read something like “He dead.”
So he kicked the old hog to life and drove away from Destiny, because Destiny sucked and who needs to fight a fish robot anyhow.
maybe he’d be The Man Who Came To Fresno instead.