- Top Features:
- War Room
- Glenn Greenwald
- Broadsheet
- Joan Walsh
- Camille Paglia
- Since You Asked
- Follow Salon:
Read other letters about this article
Damn that extra cup of coffee is keeping me up. So what did I do? I went back and reviewed your history of posts here at Salon. Looks like you joined us, uh, four days ago and all you've contributed to the dialogue is your petty little sour point-of-view over and over and over again, ad nauseam.
You're not a legitimate poster with a legitimate opinion here to engage. You're an agent provocateur and under the direction of some heinous agenda, it's clear, whether self- or other-directed.
And every last word you're labored over this past week is just another toxic grain of strychnine in an unsupportable, anti-human screed that must just warm the cockles of that shrunken black tumor you call your heart.
How do you sleep, how do you love, how do you justify the sheer fear, paranoia and lack of love for your neighbors? How can you not be called anything except a complete traitor to the fine principles on which this country was founded?
You can't answer, though you will try, because you have no answers, just bile and vomit and tears of helpless rage, a rage that demeans you and makes you the little person you've revealed to us all in your ill-considered and venomous rantings.
