The Insult LastPoet Thread

[Violet]

Dear Mistress Lastpoet

It is evident to me, Mistress Lastpoet, that you are neither the last of the poets... nor a poet at all. Observe your arrant dereliction of stanza, syllable count, and rhyme... and also that what metaphors you do employ are neither powerful nor consistent with your intentions. Indeed... it seems to me that you have begun this thread as if any of us cared, or might be interested... a somewhat pathetic trait I notice in myself as well. Indeed... you've yet to secure a positive reputation from me... a woman who has given others positive reputations by their tenth post. Here it is... your 42nd... and you've not only thus far failed to obtain a reputation from me... you've failed to obtain on from anyone at all. You are obviously full of fail, though I will admit that I laughed while reading this thread... jointly from the amusing idea of insulting someone... and from your weaksauce posts within.

-Yours in passing
Aerzia Saerules Arctuos

[LastPoet]

Best insult yet Saerules.

Ahhw, Shakespeare always had great insults.

[leo-rcc]

Let's face it Lastpoet: The only achievement in your miserable existence is that you dodged the coat hanger for 9 months.

[The Omnissiunt One]

It just goes to show how desperate for attention you are, LastPoet, that you have to start a thread asking people to insult you. Anyone else might have asked for a thread complimenting them, but, in the only act of any perception or intelligence you've performed since your mother spewed you forth and shuddered at the slimy rat she saw in her arms, you realised that you could only illicit insults from others; that's how unpopular you are. Yet, for you, insults from perfect strangers across the world are at least better than the unremitting loneliness of your everyday existence, where the most human contact you get is contemptuous stares from passers-by. These stares would only be the more contemptuous if they knew that you claimed to be a poet, when the inarticulate drivel you produce that passes for online discussion would put a brain-damaged slug to shame. Go away, and end your existence in the fitting way: cowering in a corner, isolated from the world.

[Super Cynic]

It just goes to show how desperate for attention you are, LastPoet, that you have to start a thread asking people to insult you. Anyone else might have asked for a thread complimenting them, but, in the only act of any perception or intelligence you've performed since your mother spewed you forth and shuddered at the slimy rat she saw in her arms, you realised that you could only illicit insults from others; that's how unpopular you are. Yet, for you, insults from perfect strangers across the world are at least better than the unremitting loneliness of your everyday existence, where the most human contact you get is contemptuous stares from passers-by. These stares would only be the more contemptuous if they knew that you claimed to be a poet, when the inarticulate drivel you produce that passes for online discussion would put a brain-damaged slug to shame. Go away, and end your existence in the fitting way: cowering in a corner, isolated from the world.

Mmmm, I like this one, but I'm a little worried you're getting a little too into this?

[Edwardo Piet]

Oh shut up you complete and utter fucking bastard.

[LastPoet]

It just goes to show how desperate for attention you are, LastPoet, that you have to start a thread asking people to insult you. Anyone else might have asked for a thread complimenting them, but, in the only act of any perception or intelligence you've performed since your mother spewed you forth and shuddered at the slimy rat she saw in her arms, you realised that you could only illicit insults from others; that's how unpopular you are. Yet, for you, insults from perfect strangers across the world are at least better than the unremitting loneliness of your everyday existence, where the most human contact you get is contemptuous stares from passers-by. These stares would only be the more contemptuous if they knew that you claimed to be a poet, when the inarticulate drivel you produce that passes for online discussion would put a brain-damaged slug to shame. Go away, and end your existence in the fitting way: cowering in a corner, isolated from the world.

Mmmm, I like this one, but I'm a little worried you're getting a little too into this?

Actually it wasn't all that bad. there are some remarcable insults, but none quite offensive. And where is your insult? Come, my child, come to the dark side....

[Edwardo Piet]

Fuck off to the dark side yourself.

[LastPoet]

Shakespearian insults as I said before

From Macbeth

Little Helen, farewell;if I can remember thee, I will think of three at court

The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe;'tis my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to commit them and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.

You would answer very well to a whipping

Scurvy, old, filthy, scurry lord

Methink thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon you

You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave

France is a dog hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot

She is too mean to have her name repeated

He's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of not one good quality

I spoke with her but once, and found her wondrous cold

For I knew the young Count to be dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds

Drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine drunk, and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes about him

He hath out-villiain'd villainy so far that the rarity redeems him

He excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best there is. In a retreat he outruns any lackey, marry, in the coming on he has the cramp

Use the carp as you may, for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave

I saw the man today, if man he be

This woman's an easy glove, my lord, she goes off and on at pleasure.

[Edwardo Piet]

You are not worthy of a Shakespearian insult.