I hate being me. Nobody understands me. Nobody
likes me. Nobody socializes
with me and I have no friends. Nobody ever calls
me on the telephone except
for bill collectors, angry Skinheads and the
police.

Everybody says that I am mentally deranged and act
like a twelve year old
juvenile. I am not deranged. I am just enjoying an
extended puberty and
keeping myself entertained by stalking Lloyd
Davies.

I am playing this twelve year old's game, see? I
stalk Lloyd, I use filthy
language and I post the names and addresses of
Hams who **** me off. But I
have it figured out, see? When these guys do the
same to me I accuse them of
stalking me. How ironic is that?

You guys don't understand how lonely it gets here
in Glendale, West
Virginia, especially when a guy like me lives all
alone in a 600 square foot
mansion. I have no social life, no girl friend, no
relatives, so besides a
little self-abuse and my computer, what am I
supposed to do?

And wrong again when you guys tell me I am a
short, stocky and greasy-haired
guy. Five foot five is not short. My hair is not
greasy either. I wash it
every Sunday morning, so there! I also have some
shoe inserts that make me
five foot seven and I can see eye to eye with just
about any sixth grader in
my town. Put that in your pipe and smoke it Marky.

I don't care if you guys don't like me. I don't
care if you make fun of me.
I don't care if you make fun of my spelling. I
know in my own misfiring
little mind that it is Lloyd making all the
trouble for me. I wouldn't be
such a miserable little piece of sh** if it were
not for Lloyd following me
everywhere I go. I am what I am because of Lloyd.

It is Lloyd's fault, I'm telling you! Lloyd!
Lloyd! He is the reason I am
nuts! He is the person driving me over the edge!
He drives me to say and do
the things I do. Don't blame Roger. Blame Lloyd!
Lloyd is everywhere. Can't
you see? Lloyd is in all the newsgroups. He has
sockpuppets. He lurks behind
the counters in the Dollar General stores. He
hides in the bushes across the
street from my house. He even rents motorless
Piper Cubs so he can fly
silently over my house day and night. Lloyd even
paid someone to write a
song about me. I know he didn't write it, but
somebody did. Now all I hear
on the radio is, "They're Coming To Take Me Away",
played over and over. I
KNOW it is Lloyd doing it! If you guys don't
believe me, just look out your
back windows! Ten dollars says Lloyd is hiding in
the bushes or behind a
tree. Know how to tell when Lloyd is near? Call
me. I'll give you, no
charge, one of my Two Test Extra Class 13 WPM Tin
Foil Hats that glows blue
when Lloyd is within a half mile. Trust me, these
hats work. I keep one with
me at all times.

Gotta go. My Two Test Extra Class 13 WPM Tin Foil
Hat is glowing. Lloyd must
be close. Time for me to shut the curtains and
catch him in the act. I'll
post more later.



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Marky Morgan wrote:
I hate being me. Nobody understands me. Nobody
likes me. Nobody socializes
with me and I have no friends.

That's why you are nobody's friend, fatty!