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Ok, vas, let me ask you a serious question. All bullshit aside.

Finally, a hook I can get onboard with.

Answering this, despite your predictable cyclical mellowing from menstrual rage into constructive Sahlgoode-like "let's share our feelings" shit you always do on your returns from nowhere, like a woman denied her monthly ice cream, then teasingly offered a Danielle Steel novel in return for good behavior.

If the man we all know as Beach Goat were to eat a 12ga slug and leave a suicide note stating, in great detail, that the reason he did it was because his "friends" on linkswarm told him to, would that weigh on your conscience?

Hell, no. I'd feel great about it, you complete idiot.

What kind of question is this?

Of course I'd feel terrible about it. I don't want him dead. I don't hate him. I don't wish him ill. I think he's outlived his viability as a member of this community, and his problems need to be his own.

The "kill yourself" thing got out of hand real quick, cause it took him about 5 hours to get wierd. He started not just requesting that we kill ourselves (which would have been equal in spirit and of course perfectly acceptable) but unsubtly "hinting" that maybe shooting one or more of us was something he was going to have to start planning. In anyone else this would have been laughable ignorant bravado, but he was clearly unstable, and the joke really wasn't funny any more. We stopped. It had finally clicked that he wasn't just unstable -- he was Un Fucking Stable. Not the guy you tell to kill himself. Not the guy you trade death threat banter with. The guy you walk quietly away from and you get your keys out and you hope he doesn't follow.

Whether or not he ever even fantasized in his bewildered frustration about actually murdering anyone, there he is saying it on a website, and in these times of McCarthyist terrorist-hunting, the last thing I want is LS coming under the scrutiny of some moral/legal watchdog entity because death threats are being made. Similar shit has brought down bigger websites. It happened two weeks ago with LinkFilter. No fucking thanks, thank you very much, get the fuck out, here comes the banhammer to chase you back home if necessary.

Not to mention the practical consideration that that fucker's relationship to reality changed depending on the time of day and probably his substance intake.

This explains the bulk of the post which you retardedly, and with every sign of deliberate malice, misinterpreted as me threatening him with legal action in your third comment to this journal post.

...and imagine for a moment that magicchex really did flip his top and baseball bat someone who got shitty on him. Not that I think he ever will, but someone could. Would you want that stuck in the back of your mind?

Chex won't. I know chex well enough to be reasonably confident he's not going to brain someone. Who cares if he gets in a fist fight? That's his business. Not yours -- unless, say, you've stirred the pot by jumping in somewhere you didn't belong and challenged him outright. It'd be out of line for him, sure, and not something I'd personally agree with, but it's not my job to police the offline relationships between the people who use this site and the people who should know better but keep coming back anyway.

Look, if you want to ban my account, I'd respect that. I wouldn't try to post ever again.

I'm not going to ban your account, you weepy twat. Who have I banned? Do you know? It's occurred to be I could ban the more low-level spammer types, like Sunny, and that might clean this place up a bit, but I'm not yet ready to make that call.

On the other hand, who knows what this place would be like with bans handed out for tiresomeness? These cycles of yours do always run from "YAY SUPERFAG'S BACK" to "OH GOD TURN THE CHANNEL" with startling (and discouraging) frequency and speed.

But I really am curious about how you'd feel.

No, more probably, you've passed through the "sneering cheaply from on high" phase, the "lashing out wildly" phase, the "transition to thoughtful posting" phase, and have finally reached the Sahlgoodian oh-so-earnest "let's make this a better place" phase.

You do this every time you return, you realize.

Ultimately I think it's because you want more than anything to fit in. You want it desperately. It burns when you pee, you want it so bad. OK, that was me just kidding, but I really do sense a burningness in you. "Goddamnit," I imagine you thinking, "How can they possibly reject the utter coolness I am offering?" So you hunt for cracks. You didn't take enough pictures of you drinking Canadian beers. You didn't say enough nice things about Swarmers in general and point out what a smart lot of people they seem to be when they're agreeing with you.

People don't like you because Kahuna's fat and Canadian. You decide it's a cult, and that I'm the reason you are so unpopular here. It's me, the cultleader, reaching out into peoples' minds like puppets and physically inserting the thoughts I want them to have re: Wotak. So you decide that, gosh darnit, I really am an evil jerkface, someone who maybe deletes peoples' posts, even! In fact, you now know this for a fact! Someone who diabolically applied labels to poor crazy beachgoat (who wasn't crazy in your third comment, but now is in your last comment, suitable to your needs as they change).

The facts are: this is untrue. I'm not this person. You may think it, but that doesn't make it true. Coming from almost anyone else, I'd be inclined to link to the proof, which is publically available all over this site, but I can't be bothered. It's you. Who cares? We've been through this. Your ability to come to reasonable conclusions based on the available evidence is so laughably off at times that I can't even finish this sentence without feeling like I'm about to be unbearably glib, and so won't.

The various faces you present to the swarm -- and I mean this with every bit of scientific accuracy and objectivity I can muster having spent 90 seconds trying to disprove or better the thought -- resemble nothing so much as a scorned woman insulted by her boyfriend but incapable of living without his approval.

Sorry, Wotak. I don't want to be your boyfriend.

In all seriousness, I think you'll be an OK enough sort one day, when you've done some growing up, but goddamn son, you're like 35, aren't you? When are you going to get started? Honestly, and without hope for hurting your feelings, most of my friends -- and I myself -- went through what you seem to be in in the late teens or early twenties in some cases. This is the one sociological quirk your persona presents that keeps me fascinated that you exist. It's the main, perhaps only, reason I ever find your presence and input compelling.

For now, I loathe who you seem to be -- but rest easy, I loathe you based purely on your own merits, and not anyone else's. I hope this is the same calculus everyone else is using to arrive at their conclusions, too.

And so... we gently near the end the latest episode of: As The Wotak Returns.

I was going to photoshop in "Wotak" instead of "World" but seriously, I've spent enough time on this as it is.

HERE IS WOTAK. HE WILL SAVE US!