You know, Skips, I always wondered what in the world motivated you to angrily reject Messalina Agrippina in favor of the old sourassed sourpuss. It couldn't have been ideological, because they're practically Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and besides, you don't know shit about ideology anyway.
Your expertise is engineering and architecture, Skips, not politics.
And just as I'm sure professional Democrats would defer to your advice and counsel on engineering and architecture, it'd probably be best if you yourself deferred to their greater wisdom on things political.
So why this mess you've made, by boosting and promoting Methuselah rather than the worthier candidate?
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As you know, Skips, I became familiar with you after you made a big deal, a really big deal, about a small minor microscopic meaningless little mistake back in 2009, on the list of primitive screen-name-changes occurring that year; I had a list of 3,000+ primitives, and misidentified one.
One. One out of 3,000+. And in itself, pretty meaningless.
Well, you went to town on that, and in self-defense, I started reading--I hadn't bothered before--all that this new adversary had to say, about anything and everything. I became one of your most avid readers, probably even more avid than Big Mo or Idiot Briggs or California Peggy or greatauntoftriplets or CliffordDU. Every word you wrote, I read.
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If the sentiments you've expressed on Skins's island in the past are a true and accurate reflection of your feelings and opinions, Skips, it's obvious you're motivated by something greater, and deeper, than left-wing politics.
Oddly, for someone involved in a professional career that involves "building," Skips, you're actually a "destroyer," Skips, a nihilist who wishes to assuage his insecurities and fears by laying waste to all that is good, by destroying things and people.
Why you're this way, Skips, is a mystery. It's true you grew up without a father, and it might be possible you're old enough to have memories of bitter feelings between your parents.
Well, yeah, growing up without a father's probably pretty rough.
But on the other hand, Skips, you were raised by maternal grandparents, a mother, and a sister whose sole concerns were that Skippy have an idyllic happy childhood, growing into a stable adolescent and then a remarkable adult; you were almost smothered in their love and concern for you.
But no; because you didn't have dad, you were pissed off, and didn't care about any of the other good stuff being given you by others.
I myself had a father who was a very significant part of my life--but alas for way too short of a time--and responsible for the evolution of whatever's good about me, in me.
But at the same time, Skips, due to exposure to an environmental hazard, I was born absent ears and hearing. However, I don't recall that this ever pissed me off; probably I wouldn't know what to do with hearing if I had it anyway. I've spent my life instead thanking God for all the other good stuff given me by others. And it's been lots.
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And so the course of your life, Skips, you being destructive, wanting to wreak havoc with other people and things, just for the sheer joy of destroying.
Look your psychiatrist, psychologist, or mental health therapist in the eye and tell him that's not true, Skips. You know you can't; you know you've got to admit that to yourself.
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And so we come to last year Skips, when you sought to destroy a lady usually otherwise known as smart, ambitious, well-intended, unselfish.
And also looking at Skins and the remarkable success he's had building and maintaining Skins's island for the free and unlimited romping-around of primitives; you didn't like that he'd done such good works, and by creating dissatisfaction and division among the primitives, you'd hoped to sink it.
Come on now, Skips, admit it; you'd be a better person by examining yourself with no delusions.
