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~CaLlOuT~


IYIyTh

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I see that you have no shame. You have no qualms with writing anywhere, at any time, for any reason. What is this but wanton buggery? What kind of role model are you? What kind of sinister scribbling schematical smoocher continues to write when those so often put aside their pen. May you see the light at the end of the tunnel, for the night is dark and full of terrors. You shall be boiled and steamed on sight, and I encourage you to renounce your scribbling ways.

 

Your shouts for the submission to silence are stunted by the singularity amongst your supporters. You are the boy who cried wolf, yet the wolf is the word. The pen that scribbles in the night defends the realm of the free writers. It is the guardian of the intellectual realm. The pen must scribble, lest its message is lost forever.

 

You shall not stop it, for destiny will not allow it.

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Silence!

 

Apostate! Heresy! You betray the very paper you write upon. Your words are nails to chalkboard, are grease to stains. They do not belong in this world and I am glad to have finally shown it what you are: a writhing, scheming, contemptuous point of persecution. I will finish thee the way I finish everything -- with buffalo sauce. But until that day I will ensure that the pen that scribbles is nothing more but a footnote of a footnote in history.

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Silence!

 

Apostate! Heresy! You betray the very paper you write upon. Your words are nails to chalkboard, are grease to stains. They do not belong in this world and I am glad to have finally shown it what you are: a writhing, scheming, contemptuous point of persecution. I will finish thee the way I finish everything -- with buffalo sauce. But until that day I will ensure that the pen that scribbles is nothing more but a footnote of a footnote in history.

 

Silence is the murderer of innovation. The Pen abhors silence. For it is the quiet which stagnates. Where man falters, the pen continues. Silence must be broken. Your writing is but a cyclone of Empty rhetoric. Its circularity is a cancer to the eye, and must be eradicated. Though ink may not be erasable, one may battle fire with fire. Thus the pen scribbles on in the night, until the plague of your posts has been entombed by an avelanche of righteous phrasing.

Edited by Partisan
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The only thing righteous about the pen that scribbles in the night is when it stops.

 

When you learn your place in the world we can pack our bags, roll up our desks and be done. Until then there can be no peace. There can be no sanctity of a creature that allows itself to scribble where it should not. An abomination such as yours should not be allowed to cull itself into the lives of the people of bob, for they suffer at the sight of your creations. Be gone devils instrument, and your little dog too.

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The Pen has indeed been named.

Actual name or GTFO. Unless "The Pen" is said persons name, in which case, WTF actually cares about whatever petty drama this is?

Edited by Fox Fire
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The only thing righteous about the pen that scribbles in the night is when it stops.

 

When you learn your place in the world we can pack our bags, roll up our desks and be done. Until then there can be no peace. There can be no sanctity of a creature that allows itself to scribble where it should not. An abomination such as yours should not be allowed to cull itself into the lives of the people of bob, for they suffer at the sight of your creations. Be gone devils instrument, and your little dog too.

 

The world which you claim to protect was long desecrated. The obliberation of intellectual discourse by you and yours stands at the crib of the scenario you play out today. The prophecy is nigh. The Pen has woken to the drums of war. A war, peaceful in its physical nature yet destructive all the same. It shall rage for times to come within the minds of the denizens of bob. It is a war which you have initiated. A war which the Pen shall finish. You are no match for the scribbles of yore. The scribbles are past present and future compressed into a weapon that will twist your twisted soul. 

 

There is no more redemption. The scribbling is upon you all.

 

So it was decreed.

Edited by Partisan
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Prophecy? I'll show you prophecy. Prophecy right up your you know what! I'm tired of your pen and quill games boy. I've come here to start taking names and kickin' tail. You sir, the scribbliest of all -- need to tone down your ink. It's getting unbearable. The pedantic and shameful way you disgrace your ancestors with your mindless babble one would think they attached a bop it motor to your pen. If you scribble in the night, I will find thee, and I will break thee. You better recognize that this pattern of behavior is unacceptable and I demand you cease to exist.

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Once upon a time, threads without a self-evident purpose would be locked within half a dozen posts. Sadly, we live in a new age in which the inmates run the asylum.

 

Way to disprove the 'myth' of MI6 as a bunch of self-indulgent gasbags, though. It's worked out really well. We all have so much more respect for you now.

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