Dear Murray
I admit that I have a few mental issues that probably stem from poor childhood nutrition, and rampant adolescent drug use.
Needless to say, I’m needy, loney, and haven’t been laid since there was a democrat in office. Since most people cross to the other side of the street when I’m in public I prefer the safer cyber-space world. When I meet men or women online…they say I’m “scary,” or “troubled,” and throw words around like “restraining order” and “John Hinckley.” I can’t even get a cup of coffee around here…
I think I may be coming off too strong. Is there a list of things I should avoid doing until I can actually meet someone in person and find out where they live?
Sucks at Stalking
I’m not sure if I’m buying that people are creepier online. There’s a whole fucking lot of creepy people in this world, and many of them can’t afford computers. The odds are probably just as good that the dude who lives next to you is watching through his peephole while you’re going into your apartment, and jerking it.
Here are some pretty fucking safe things to stay away from before you meet someone: marriage, love.. you know what? you can pretty fuckin much blanket all the heart-related bullshit. The first time you meet someone is just that. The first fucking time you meet someone. I don’t really give a fuck. If I don’t click with someone, I don’t click with someone, and you will never fucking hear from me again. Don’t fucking go bitching about people or cooing about people in your blog, forgetting that they can fucking read that shit. “Oh, it’s 4:30 and Murray is doing such-and-such right now…” You can mark me off your fucking little daydreaming planner right fucking now if you’re gonna pull that shit.
Keep the conversations simple, and don’t talk about your taxidermy hobby just fucking yet. While I’ve never had to get a restraining order, I have had plenty of freaky phone calls. I do get sort of a sick joy out of them, though. I think I’m gonna start saving them, and start a website to share this shit with the rest of the world.
I will also accept submissions. Oh, and maybe your ass will have better luck with the women here. Now leave me the fuck alone.
Categories: General Malaise
Dear Murray
Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.
He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".
His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.
A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.
It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.
He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.
Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.