|StuartMcT or ColinT or FergieM, in debate-mode|
When you got a clown with a need for a ninny, you have a clown who whines a lot when he cannot get his way. We get a lot of those people in Conservapedia. People who demanded we change to suit them; people who whined when their silly little beliefs weren't posted; people who just have to harp on the concept of "debating" us, as if that's going to make everything all better.
We don't debate over facts and truth; we publish them.
So, in comes StuartMcT - he's been here before under one name or another for a couple of years now - and he decides he's going to make a threat.
"(bleep) I warned you what I was going to do if you didn't stop your childish cr4p about telling people to debate Viva while running away from debates yourself. You chose to ignore me. Unlike you, however, when I say I'm going to do something I carry it through. So, as promised, here is the real identity of the mysterious User:(bleep)..."
And what follows is the name and address of User:(bleep), and a threat to publish the phone number as well. Which caused me to walk outside to where there's this barn, and I looked inside and noticed some straw was missing, undoubtedly clutched in desperation in the grubby little paws of Mr. McT.
So, just what is StuartMcT so desperate over? Why, it's the subject of evolution! You know that theory, the one where we supposedly came from an amoeba, which turned into a fish, which crawled onto land and became a dinosaur, which turned into oil and enabled a bunch of Haliburton guys to drive around in Bentleys. That theory. Never-mind that the subject is based on nothing more than someone's say-so, there are some libs who believe in it so much that not only have they declared it to be a fact, but they will force it on the public as fact anywhere they see fit, including Conservapedia.
And when they don't get their way, why it's pounding fists on the computer desk; it's hair yanked out in frustration; it's heads banging against a wall. And the demanded debates? I can see the scenario now, at Mr. McT's home somewhere in Whinerslavia:
"Mommy, that mean'ol man won't do a debate with me!"
I should emphasize the "mommy" part...after all, Mr. McT is a screaming kid at heart.
"MOMMY!!!! Why won't he debate me?"
Maybe his mommy has had enough; maybe she has some common sense.
"Stuart, it's been nearly thirty years since you last had your diapers changed. I think it's about time you change them now!"
So, maybe we should find Stuart's address, and send him a care package of fresh diapers (Pampers or Huggies, nothing cheap; he doesn't need "pull-up" trainers yet), and a nice, fresh, tasty ninny for all the time-outs he needs to have? I think so!
This stuff gets better, or worse, depending on which side of the diapers you're on. Mr. McT comes back, this time under the name "ColinT" - I guess the "Colin"-part is a Whinerslavackian word for "colon"; who knows, right? - and he's rather foaming at the mouth.
Why? He lost his ninny again! But he writes to our user from his little Sit-and-Spell:
"Actually to hell with this. Let's put an end to your nonsense once and for all, (bleep). If you have the ma-cheese-mo to debate me - which I don't believe you do - let's do it ''right now''. You and me, debating the 15 questions you ''think'' I can't answer. We can either do it in writing at RW or, if you can scare up any of Shock's freaks at short notice, verbally on his chatroom. Either debate me or STFU, you gutless blowhard."
So, he's still whining about a debate toy he's thrown from his crib. Meanwhile, the Huggies are on the way.