At first I thought so straight
I was horrified
Kept thinking I could never love
that way, or flaunt my Pride
But I spent so many fights
thinking how Persia done us wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to get it on
You got my back
You share my space
I just woke up to find you dead
and Persians all over the place
I should have killed that damn Xerxes
I would have had him on his knees
If I had thought for just one second
he’d be robbing me of thee!
Date: Mar 2, 2007 11:36 AM
Subject: Your registration for membership in The WELL
To: mitnick@…
We have decided not to offer you membership in The WELL. Your payment will be refunded, and your application is denied.
The WELL staff
Yep, it is possible to act so heinously that even in the United States of Republicanism, your money’s no good. Stolen from the Wired blog. And what horrible course of action brought Mitnick to the point of being the posterboy for Internet Ostracism?
Just this. Check out the web addy. Indeed, Spring is the season for flamewars…but more on that later…or is that l8er? As for me, I’m dying to know the rest of Mitnick‘s email. Oh, no reason…
It is with a heavy heart that I inform that infinitesimal percentage of the world not already in deep mourning that Calvert deForest(Larry “Bud” Melman), who lived his life like a cheap, smelly cigar in the wind, has gone to that great Green Room in the Sky. David Letterman, who gave “Melman” his start in show business, is reported to be inconsolable.
Cheap, Smelly, Old-Man’s Cigar in the Wind
Goodbye butt of jokes,
may you ever bitch, groan and whine.
You were the ass that placed himself
where you’d be a bad punchline.
You called out to our slackers,
and you babbled to insomniacs.
Now you belong to heaven,
and the stars know you were whack.
And it seems to me you lived your life
like a curmudgeon in the wind:
never getting even one clue
when Letterman set in.
And your footsteps will always thud here,
along New York’s sleazy halls;
your cigar’s burned out long before
you ever lost your balls.
Crankiness we’ve lost;
these empty nights without your roar.
This torch we’ll always carry
for our nation’s favorite bore.
And even though we try,
the truth brings us to tears;
all our words cannot express
the joy you brought us through the years.
Goodbye New York’s joke,
from a country lost, without a soul,
who’ll miss the chance to laugh at you
more than you’ll ever know.