I'm not wearing any pants. In fact, I'm sitting on a portable potty, it's easier that way, except for the smell, which is also why they're so many Dewars bottles around ...

Seriously, how many frigtards could there seriously be out there?  Walter Mossberg, the oldest technical writer this side of Alpha Centauri, probably just did a Steven J Vaughn-Nichols cut and paste column, not ‘cos he’s lazy or anything, but because all these frigtards that bought iPads don’t pay attention to the instructions they got inside the box, from the Apple Genius bar, from the online instructional videos nor from the scores of columns published verbatim from the Apple P.R. department by the whole circle jerk blogsphere about what you could or could not do with iPad, and frankly, I wouldn’t begrudge the oldest technical writer on the planet downing four or five bottles of Dewars after reading seventeen thousand e-mails and tweets asking the same goddamn questions about the freakin’ sweet miracle of Jobs that these frigtards apparently have no idea how to operate or use. It must depress the drizzle that drops from his ass when he is inundated by so many lametard questions.

Lady Ada Lovelace, a smart cookie and nice bit of Victorian crumpet

Why can’t anybody ask something more challenging to his one hundred and seventy-five year old brain? Goddammit, he saw the plans for the original difference engine after a dalliance with Lady Ada Lovelace, that’s got count for something … It’s gonna’ be a long haul, if we’re ever gonna’ move up the ladder to electronic nirvana, but maybe that’s just Darwinism kickin’ in, sorting out the ‘tards from the rest of the gene pool, those that get it, those that will lead the rest of us either to a higher plane of existence or even to finally link with the consciousness of the cosmos while the rest of the skinjobs perish in their own ultimate worldwide abattoir.