Well, thank you for the catered meal, Mr. BB! Crow is a delicacy for us chimps, and plantains are a fine complement for such a meal, especially when boiled and reduced in blarney sauce. I usually dress for fine dining, so I will don my gay apparel and Troll the ancient Mr. BB’s carol: Troll-la-Troll-la-Troll, la-Troll-Troll, Troll!
Lancelot Link had Stu, and Nauseated had Sorasyn, but they left, taking their dumbness elsewhere. I have you, Mr. BB, the stubborn, relentless, intractable Blarney Banker of lore: a pseudo intellectual with a multiplicity of advanced dimwit degrees in arrogant stupìdity, a professor of misinformation, who teaches with authority and irritation.
One usually needs a scanning electron microscope to find an error by Sir CPhill, That’s why the errors are “itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, microscopic, nearly infinitesimally small,” but still calculable. For you, I need no such instrument. A casual stroll through the forum shows a path, clearly marked by stupìdity, mòronic analysis, and toxic misinformation, leading right to your hovel.
You may not believe this, but I’m glad you’re here. The most successful Trolls have a reliable parade of stubborn dùmb dùmbs, or a relentless, indefatigable dùmb dùmb who always gives the wrong answer to “What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?” No matter how many times my troll character tosses you over the bridge railing into the river, you always come back for more. With this, you have personified a modern attachment to the ancient legends of Camelot and its Trolls.
We all owe you a debt of pseudo gratitude for the unwitting humor you cause.
GA