Friday, January 07, 2005

N**k C*****n

I'm not going to write about him today.

Nope. Not gonna do it.

The blogosphere in general, and this blog in particular, have become top-heavy with invective toward his inane rantings. I fear falling into the Michael Richards (Kramer) Trap: doing something so well for so long that one can only be identified with that one character, or topic. Then, when the moment is gone, people move on and forget about you. Impending and inevitable irrelevance.

He's become too easy a target.

I suppose Cpatain Fishsticks had a point in his Wednesday post likening excessive Nick fisking, somewhat obliquely, to being that obnoxious guy at a bar (a role I may or may not have nonmetaphorically assumed myself in the past).

But I have another metaphor in mind. N**k is like a really huge lumbering deer. He walks around the woods smirking to himself, thinking "I'm such a great deer! I'm pretty and resourceful. In fact, I may be the only legitimate deer in the forest." We hunters take shot after shot after shot at him. We may wound him, but he is never felled. Yet it is very fun, and even somewhat fulfilling, to plug shot after shot into him. If he was such a smart deer, he'd stop standing still, congratulating himself, and run toward the area of the forest where there are no tree stands.

Yet he always manages, like the dumb animal that he is, to wander back into our crosshairs. And he did so again today.

I'm not going to shoot. Or even link to his garbage today. But rest assured, I love shooting N**k for sport. He deserves every slug that gets embedded in his big, arrogant, condescending butt. The fisking will come again as it always does.

But not today.

I'll shift to other topics, at least for the moment. Here's a haiku:

Playoffs this weekend.
Packers have a bad defense.
Makes me want to poop.

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