It's illiterate drivel, that's your starter-for-ten, but we'll try to make sense of it for posterity's sake! I am poor,
that's a definite, even more so as I'm paying back loans for air-fares at the
moment, but poverty is also a state of mind, and I am therefore rich in so many other
ways.
I'm not sad; this is parroting TJF's 'sad
man' meme (or 'saddiest man' as he put it a while ago!), and apart from being
a quite clumsy expression, belies the fact that those of you who know me, know
I'm actually quite a happy-go-lucky sort, especially for someone so cynical!
[Several people were saved, by the doors
opening, at the recent PW-show, from one of my Brwreakshit rants, which was
definitely gathering to a crescendo, but they'll attest it was good natured!
The whole thing's beyond parody now, a bit like the battle with TJF!]
Nor am I sick, neither am I lonely, those who know
me (and Erwin doesn't know me from a hole in a fence) know I'm gregarious and
conversationalist without being too pushy.
Stain
in the hobby? Hardly! I've had to defend myself
from a lot of rude crap, insult and plagiarism. mostly coming from the
petty-jealous, envious little, 'small' men centered on Paul Stadinger and the
Penn State Toy Soldier Mafia, but including the half-dozen-odd Vichy and the three
or four Awful F**king Deutsche, but also gathering-in the odd freelancer like
Michel Roffler; the limp-dicked Hussar, or Giselle over at Mokarex . . . and the Eko one.
Which neatly deals with his pure insults!
-------------------------------------------
Erwin then shows his own level of total ignorance
and lack of formal education, by clearly mistaking literary concepts such as
narrative thought, self-depreciation, comedic prose, social/cultural reference
(some of which wouldn't necessarily be known or recognised by foreigners
anyway), humorous aside, thinking 'out loud' and stream of consciousness (in none
of which am I [that] fluent) as signs I may be mad. It's not that I'm mad, just
that he's too stupid to comprehend anything presented in the written-form which
is more convoluted than his master's short, junior-school, baby sentences . . .
. . . I found these figure stop they are
Marx stop they are also come in grey stop! . . .
. . . or his (Sell's) own illiterate
babble.
-------------------------------------------
Which leaves his conclusion:
Well . . . humm . . . "self therapeutic" huh? . . . in
public?
People; who live in glasshouses . . . really
shouldn't throw stones!
If you go here you will find a fantasy 'novel'
(444pages . . . bwaahahahahahahahahah-ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!)
written by the son of successful store owners (merchants), who has - himself -
'lost' several retail (merchant) businesses, one way, or another.
The plot as described in the introductory/sales
blurb - which is full of typo's, poor syntax and grammatical errors (at least
35 digressions from English as a ruled language); hinting at the state of the
contents of the 'work', tells us - the potential purchasers - that the story is
all about . . . err . . . a failed merchant trying to be a successful merchant
like his successful merchant parents!
Who's indulging in a bit of self-therapy in
public? I don't think it's me Mr Sell; look to your master!
And even if I was indulging in such self-referential,
fantastical crap in the search for 'inner-peace' and 'healing', I don't think
I'd need to command an army, conquer a country, save a King, marry a Princess
or ride a dragon - in my head - to heal my damaged-self or salve my 'wounded
soul'!
Hahahahah! I assume (I love a bit of
assumption!) that in the above-referenced Kindle-krud, the 'hero' is some tall,
slim, attractive type, and not too much of a burden, for a dragon?
Cruel; but they wanted a war so they can
have one; they're both the nuts, not me! Fancy - the little pot accusing
the soap of being as black as the arse of the old kettle!
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