The Internet is a Playground Page 19
Regards, David
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Tuesday 6 May 2008 9:02 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Rove
That didnt even make any sense. why dont you stop wasting your time and get a girlfriend!
From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 6 May 200 9:06 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Rove
Thank you for the excellent suggestion, Dick. I contacted your wife and we are now seeing each other.
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Tuesday 6 May 2008 9:17 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: fuck off
youve obviously got no firends!
From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 6 May 2008 9:28 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: fuck off
You got me, Dick. You are correct; I have no friends. I am lonely and sad. I am currently sitting in a cave by myself, sustaining myself on beetles, powering my laptop by an ingenious array of pulleys and flywheels constructed from small lizards and tree sap from the local flora. I came here to escape my family, friends, industry associates, acquaintances, and the lady next door who was spying on me, in the hope of completing my novel titled Why are there so many dickheads messaging me? I have made the dedication out to you, Dick, and will endeavor to send you a copy once it goes to print.
Regards, David
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Wednesday 7 May 2008 10:37 a.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: fuck off
Your a moron muthufuka!!!!
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 7 May 2008 11:52 a.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: fuck off
Well done, Dick. That sentence included a word containing more than three syllables—I am assuming “muthufuka” to be one word in your dimension. As I mentioned, I am currently writing a novel and would be honored if you would concede to being the editor. I realize that you must be in great demand, with a long list of literary achievements, and I am less than worthy of your mastery in this area, but an opportunity such as this could simply not be passed by. I will attach the manuscript and look forward to your positive response.
Regards, David
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Wednesday 7 May 2008 2:18 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: fuck off
youve got mental problems wanker and dont call me dick. your the dickhead!
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 7 May 2008 2:44 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: fuck off
Dear Dr. Dick,
Thank you for that in-depth psychoanalysis that is so accurate as to be uncanny. As your professional diagnosis has clearly outlined, I do, indeed, have mental problems. It is a degenerative disease that causes a small part of my brain to die every time I receive a message from the kind of person that collects Star Trek DVDs and listens to Jimmy Barnes (yes, I read your profile). Little more can be done except to write a letter to your university, in particular your psychology and psychiatry lecturers, congratulating them on producing such an amazing pool of talent.
Regards, David
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Wednesday 7 May 2008 2:52 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: fuck off
fuck you whats wrong with Star Trek? your a wanker
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 7 May 2008 3:19 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: fuck off
Nothing is wrong with Star Trek, Dick. I enjoy science theory myself, and some of the episodes were not completely embarrassing. I was tempted to write something derogatory and perhaps even draw attention to the fact that the only time in any of your e-mails you have used correct spelling, grammar, punctuation, or capitalization is when you wrote the name Star Trek, but I was fearful that your army of Klingon warriors might attack and shoot colorful laser rays at me, causing me to have to land on a planet inhabited by aliens who speak English and look exactly like humans apart from ripples on their noses while I perform plasma warp drive repairs.
Regards, David
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Thursday 8 May 2008 9:27 a.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: your a wanker
You must be fat and sad and ugly!
From: David Thorne
Date: Thursday 8 May 2008 4:11 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: your a wanker
Thank you, Dick. I am touched by your concern for my health, happiness, and social acceptance. I actually am not fat and would usually be described as a bit too skinny. I have been contemplating reverse liposuction, a technique where they basically transfer liquefied body fat from one patient to another.
Having looked on your profile and seen your photo, I was hoping we could help each other out here—I figure some of the fat from just one of your cheeks could help add many kilograms to my current body weight. I realize this would leave you a tad lopsided, so if we take the fat from your other cheek we could sell it to the Japanese. This commercial venture would effectively pay for the initial operation and save several whales in the process. I think you will have to agree this is a socially responsible course of action.
In regard to being sad, aren’t we all from time to time? As I am sitting writing this on my laptop in bed while my girlfriend watches Family Guy on the 52-inch plasma screen in her underwear, I can’t help but think how much happier I would be if she was Brooke Satchwell, was wearing latex, and we were in Bora Bora; so I guess, happiness being relative and on a comparative scale, you are correct.
As for being ugly, I am actually extremely attractive, with god-like features and the body of a Calvin Klein underwear model, due to being born with what is termed the “drop-dead gorgeous” gene, but I can’t help feeling life would be much easier if I were, indeed, ugly. How’s it working out for you?
Regards, David
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Thursday 8 May 2008 4:21 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: your a wanker
You think you are fucking clever. Im a primary teacher and the kids in my class write better than you moron! kiss my arse.
From: David Thorne
Date: Thursday 8 May 2008 4:29 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: your a wanker
Now I am actually horrified. My son is in primary school, and I had the assumption that the adults I leave him in the care of would generally have a higher level of education than his. Just out of interest, can I ask if you have ever had sex with one of your students?
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Thursday 8 May 2008 4:37 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: your a wanker
I teach 3rd grade deadshit
From: David Thorne
Date: Thursday 8 May 2008 4:46 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: your a wanker
My question still stands.
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Thursday 8 May 2008 4:58 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: your a wanker
Suck my cock fuckhead
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 9 May 2008 6:03 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: your a wanker
Thank you, Dick. I will take your offer of oral sex as a peace offering but will have to decline. While I appreciate the gesture, I am very much straight. I am flattered and even a little curious but feel it would be bett
er if we refrained from giving in to desire at this stage in our relationship, and besides, I would not want to risk doing anything that may damage our friendship—which I have come to value very much.
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Friday 9 May 2008 11:18 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: your a wanker
what? your an idiot im not gonna compete with an idiot anymore. burn in hell wanker not writing any more to you!
From: David Thorne
Date: Saturday 10 May 2008 1:07 p.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: your a wanker
Compete? I wouldn’t attempt such a foolhardy exercise. I am possibly the least competitive person I know and am, in fact, the current national loser in the Who is Least Competitive Championships, where trying to win will make you lose. Trying to lose makes you win, which makes you lose. Not trying at all makes you lose, which makes you win, which makes you lose.
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Saturday 10 May 2008 4:40 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fucken loser
Yeah your right you do lose. That was the biggest heap of shit i have eva readwhat was that even suposed to mean? dont emai me back your an idiot.
From: David Thorne
Date: Sunday 11 May 2008 11:13 a.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: I want to touch your beard
I am very hurt by your comments, Dick, and I am not quite sure how to take them. Are you saying it is over? With time and a series of expensive counseling sessions, I may see my way through it. If you would be interested in, perhaps, attending some of these sessions together, I believe we may resolve our differences. It’s the little things, isn’t it, Dick? The little things that you found cute in the beginning of our relationship have become the catalyst for this anger. I can change for you, Dick. I love you.
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Monday 12 May 2008 10:28 a.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: faggot!
you are a fucken idiot!!! I dont have time to read you stupid shit. What are you even wriing to me for ? I think you are doing it just to annoy me fuckhead
From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 12 May 2008 10:51 a.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: faggot!
I confess. You have caught me out, Dick. Alternative motives may have included “using dick as entertainment,” “playing with dick,” or even “let’s get dick heated,” but yes, your supersleuth detective skills have once again outwitted me and centered in on the fundamental reason.
Please find attached a check made out to you for a copy of your book, Detective Dick’s Deduction Dictionary. I would also like to sign up to receive your monthly newsletter, and please book me in for your course “Deducing Dick.” If I use my credit card to purchase the full two half-hour lessons, will I receive the Sherlock Holmes–style cap and curved wooden pipe at no added cost? I have my own magnifying glass. Sometimes I use it on ants. Not to cook them, just to warm them on cold days or get a little fire going for them.
Regards, David
From: Richard Matthews
Date: Monday 12 May 2008 11:09 a.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: faggot!
Stop messaging me
From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 12 May 2008 11:22 a.m.
To: Richard Matthews
Subject: Re: Re: Re: faggot!
OK.
Life-size Lucius™ free cutout doll
A while back, I indicated in a certain article that the purchase of a certain T-shirt comes with a free Life-size Lucius™ doll. Due to having completely made this up, the doll was not delivered with the product, so I have provided this page for those who feel hard done by.
Guns, baseball caps, and pickup trucks: 3 weeks in the USA
Flying out from Sydney Airport
Sydney Airport incorporates an astonishingly clever luggage trolley system called Smarte Carte. Basically, you pay four dollars and load up the trolley, then enter the terminal. At this stage you have to go up an escalator that does not fit trolleys. Luckily, after removing your luggage and journeying to the top of the escalator, there is another set of trolleys you can pay four dollars to use. You can then use the trolley for a few minutes until you reach the international terminal transfer train that does not allow trolleys onboard. Once the train reaches the international terminal, you pay four dollars for a trolley, which will enable you to take your luggage around a corner, where there is an escalator that does not fit trolleys but has more trolleys at the top for four dollars so that you can transport your luggage around two corners before reaching another escalator that does not fit trolleys. Having exhausted both your budget and patience, you carry your bags the rest of the way. Luckily, the crowds part for you, due partly to you dripping in sweat, but mainly due to your “I will stab you” expression, so that you can arrive at the check-in counter and pay two hundred thirty dollars in excess baggage weight fees.
United Airlines
Many years ago, during a traditional family Christmas gathering, the family dog, named Gus, gained access to and consumed a one-kilogram tub of butter that had been left out of the refrigerator. He then proceeded to vomit up the entire kilo under the table (along with his prior meal of dog food and pieces of Christmas turkey). The similarity, minus a thin piece of three-day-old tomato and cold spinach, to the gelatin egg porridge I was served onboard the fourteen-hour United Airlines flight from Sydney to San Francisco was disturbing. I also suspect Gus’s version may have contained more nutritional value. Luckily, my meal included a plastic cup of water, so using the power of imagination and a plastic spork, I pretended it was a thin soup and made it last for over an hour.
Although hungry and bored, I was lucky enough to have an overweight American girl sitting in front of me with her seat reclined, thus allowing close inspection of her dandruff. As her hair was very dark, by blurring my eyes I was able to pretend I was looking out of the window at a star-filled night and, at one point, made out the Big Dipper.
Waffle House
Famished after spending a total of thirty-six hours on flying buses and waiting in flying bus stations, salvation presented itself in the form of what is, without question, America’s finest restaurant chain. If I were a food critic being asked to write about the meal and experience at Waffle House, my review would contain just two words, one being an expletive and the other “Yes.” Possibly accompanied by a pencil sketch of two fat people giving each other a high five. The only negative aspect of the meal was that our waitress, Shauna, hung around and kept going on about her dying child and the cost of cancer medicine in the hope of a large tip, but seeing through this ploy, we snuck out without paying and stole a Waffle House coffee mug in the process.
Snow
I had never seen snow before visiting the U.S., and while those around me complained about their vehicles sliding off the road and not being able to get out the front door, I secretly hoped the snowfall would reach several feet and trap me there for months. My first snowball throw ever was a head shot, and taking into account the excellent degree of distance and trajectory analysis, I would have thought my girlfriend, Holly, would be impressed rather than driving off. Faced with the prospect of spending the night outdoors many miles from civilization, I built a snowman to ward off wolves while I started work on an igloo. After two hours of work resulting in a pile of snow with a hollowed out cave large enough only for my head, I had to hide my relief when Holly came back, proclaiming to her that I would have been fine due to having read the novel My Side of the Mountain and that I was not crying—it was just a bug or dust or something in my eye.
Walmart
The first time I went to Walmart, I showered, shaved, dressed nicely, and did my hair to the bemusement of those with me. The second time, I w
ent unwashed, in my pajamas, at 3 a.m. to buy a gun. In Australia, we have a nationwide ban on anything even remotely gun-shaped. When I was about ten years old, there was an elderly man, living across the road, named Mr. Anderson, that I (innocently) drove insane through a sequence of events over twelve months, which included painting his windows black, believing he would wake up and think it was still nighttime; tying his lawnmower to the back of his car so he drove off with it; and putting several packets of raspberry Jell-O crystals in his fish pond. The day I dipped tennis balls in paint and threw them at his house obviously broke him, and he came out screaming and waving a rifle before being arrested. I did not see Mr. Anderson after that, but I am sure everything turned out fine and that he looks back on those times with fond memories.