Look at this motherfucker, fresh off the boat and you think you can just start threads? Do you know how fucking long you have to wait before you can post threads? No, you don't, because daddy dropped you on your head while he was fucking your neighbor. You already toed the line with that little shitty introduction thread, and I could ignore the giant shit stain on the underpants. But now you've shit your pants and the smell is putrid. I don't go into your house and shove your face into my fecal-coated whity-tighties, so maybe you should back off for more than 1 day before stuffing your herpes hole with raisins.
You think you're part of the in-group now? You think we're your best friends? I don't even fucking know you. Your name is like the guy passing me on the highway because he wants to masturbate in his cubicle before his coworkers judge him again and push the perverted pornographic thoughts out of his head with anxiety and self-loathing. He's just another meat bag chugging on by. No glances, no thoughts. Just him, his square-toed shoes and his short-sleeved button up shirt billowing in his panted gasps as he races to unbuckle the reversible belt restraining his engorged colostomy shitsack. Wanna be my BFFL? Shut the hell up. No, no, just, shut the hell up. I don't give a shit about your karma. We aren't your high school friends. You're playing with the big boys now, so fucking act like it. Deaden your eyes. Burn them if you have to. Soulless. Now scoff. Don't snort, you're not a swine anymore. Crook the grin. Not happy, but the cusp of euphoric. Slouch. Cross your arms, but not like a rinsed vagina. No question marks. You don't care about people's opinions anymore. Be brave. You tell them what you think. That's all that matters. Comment less. Not just numbers, but words. Brevity is the soul of apathy, or whatever.
You're here, but you're not one of us. Not yet. We're not going to chop out your tongue and stick you with feathers, but we will judge you in private and it will subtly show in our replies to you.