Believe it or not, I DO understand. I started shaving my head because haircuts and shampoo became too fucking expensive for how I was living at the time. Was I a Nazi? No, but people didn't hesitate to accuse me of it. I was Mr. Clean, cue-ball, and anything else you can think of. It made me stronger. One surefire way to not be though of as a skinhead is to have a good Kevin Keegan's Perm-style moustache and soul patch.
Only when it's funny.
Let me tell you something. The couple of gay guys that I know (no, they are NOT really my friends, I am not a 'I have TONS of black friends!' type of person. They are more like friendly acquaintances) have great senses of humor. I made the stupid mistake once of making a gay-bashing joke, opening my big mouth, but they laughed their asses off. Mostly because they themselves could probably kick my ass, but I was relieved. D/X, perhaps it was a bit too soon to rag on your hair loss, but you are a guy and as a guy you must tolerate ribbing. It's inherent in your penishood.
D/X, it doesn't suck nearly as much as you think it does. Your self-esteem is taking a shot, but your love life is NOT over. Fuck, man, just imagine if you were UGLY and bald? Then you'd have it rough. Fortunately for you, only one of those applies.
Berating you would be saying, "For fuck's sake, Dragon, you assfuck, join the hairclub already and stop assaulting my eyeballs with your gleaming melon!" Other than as an example, I would never do that.
Point taken. You're not me. I apologize for trying to make you feel better by relating to you.
Me too. You're good, I'm good. I've got a huge schnozz. For some reason I've accumulated a gut. I will have to wear thick glasses for the rest of my life. I desperately want you to accept yourself.
Ok. You're a fence-sitting, non-committal milquetoast. Your beliefs are about as rational as a woodlands meeting between Margot Kidder and Anne Heche. Your music sounds like angry men projectile vomiting because the cock they're taking up the ass is smashing too hard into their inner workings. Plus, your dialup connection is shitty. Happy now?
I guess not. Me backing off from something is such a fucking rarity. I am an obnoxious bastard, but I [Clinton]feel your pain[/Clinton]. I want you to tell me when you're ready to weather the occasional bald joke, but I am afraid that would drive you away, fearing a barrage of insults. I do not want that to happen. Stay here, or I will be forced to find out where you live and...talk to you. That should be a sufficiently painful threat to keep you here.
I said it before and I'll say it again. I love boinky. He can do no harm in my eyes. He can tell me my cock is smaller than a sunflower seed, that he can pick out Orion's Belt in my pimples, that my mother sucked the corn-riddled shit out of his ass, chewed it, and spit it out into my girlfriend's ass while he was screwing my dog. I'd still love the kid.
I've never met a kid his age with such a knowledge of humor before his time or the kind of sense of humor he possesses. We all deal with shit, and boinky is not a bully. Just a little obnoxious, but you and I both fit that mold, D/X.
To conclude this long-winded response, I apologize. I poke fun at the people I like, and I consider you one of them. If my comic about you picking out hairpieces offended you, I also apologize. That's probably why you kept me out of the awards on this past FTC. But hey, keep your head up, you crackwhore. It's worth it.
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The giant three-phallused phallus of Uzbekistan will one day squirt the cosmic jizz of revenge all over Canada.