Dear You-Who-Claim-to-Be-Matt-Stone,
Don't think I don't know what you're about, interloper. It is all so, so clear to me: You come here to our peaceful group, dressed up in all your regal, majestic frumpery, trumped up in all your medieval, digestive dressery and expect us to embrace you as one of The-Two-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Herein? Ha, I say! Listen: "Ha!" There, I said it! And I'll say it again!! Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!! Don't make me laugh-- no-- it's too late for that, yes, TOO LATE!! HA! There, I did it again! Do you see? *DO* *YOU* *SEE*?! HA! I'm on to you, foxy-loxy!! I'm all a-quiver to your madcap interloping ways, yes!! Madcap!! Interloping!! (That is not a word I use lightly, and I have already made use of it not less than *three* times, herein-- and I will no doubt use it yet again!!)
I have only one message for you, spiny interloper (see?): Your options are two: You can take flight now, with your briny tail tucked trippingly twixt your toes, (if you can parse out *that* image), never to return again-- ostracized, exiled, banished! No, not banished. Banish-ed! You know, with a little accent grave over the e.
Or... there is another way. Let it not be said that we are not gentle people. Let it not be said that we lack a capacity to forgive. Let it not be said that Leonardo DiCaprio didn't give a really excellent performance in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?". (This is not actually relevent to the matter at hand, I just feel like with all the DiCaprio bashing that goes on in this group, someone ought to point out that he did do some good work before he became a supah stah!) But I digress. When you have a stream of consciousness as powerful as mine, sometimes it can be too easily forded. Let it not be said that we lack a capacity to forgive. For, to err is human; to forgive, delightful, delicious and de-lovely, as quoth the Bard.
I will offer you a chance at redemption: a single flake of the snow of mercy amidst the otherwise-endless desert of scorn in which you find yourself too trenchently enmesh-ed. Do as I say: Cast aside your ill-gotten moniker. Cast it aside! Cast it, as a repentent gambler would cast away his insidious ivory cubes, forever! Cast it! Cast!
And then... choose for yourself, oh prodigal lamb of South Park, choose for yourself a new name. Nay, not one that does blaspheme the names of The-Two-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Herein, but rather a name of your own devising, a name as pure as the freshly driven snow. Upon this rock I build my church, and so I will call you Rock! Rock! Stand up, Rock! Stand up! Sit down, you're Rocking the boat, Rock! That's just a little joke. Ha ha ha. Ha. Haggis. Never mind.
But, repent! Cast aside your blashpemy and choose anew! And do it quickly! Quickly! Quickly! For, our infinite patience is fast burning away, like a wick under an industrial strenght blowtorch. And if and you do not repent before the emminent time of reckoning, oh, I say, there will be a moaning and a gnashing of teeth, and even a rending of clothing, and perhaps even a wearing of sackcloth and ashes! Do you think I jest? Do you? I do not! No, I do not!! Heed my words, or woe be unto you, and to your house, and to your garage and backyard, if and you have any of these things. Woe! Woe!! Gather round, handmaidens of sorrow!! Everybody says "don't"! You're always sorry! I'm still here! No, not even figs: Raisins! Don't touch the coat! If you doubt it, take a bite! Leave your name with the girl! Louis the baker is not what I had in mind! I'm not good, I'm not nice, I'm just right! You wanna shoot a president?! I'm so happy I could die!!
Repent.
I will light a candle for you tonight.
--C. S., with much thanks and acknowledgement to S.S.