From:
"russ sharbaugh" <strokedshovel@hotmail.com>
To:
blackecho
Subject: your website
Sent:
Sat, 1 Nov 2003 21:33:32 -0500
Why dont you show up at Daytona and spread your bullshit.
Probably because some Harley rider would beat your faggot ass. Your opinion
sucks and so do you.
Note-
And I also
received this addendum six minutes later, proving that the speed of thought is
somewhat slowed when it has to pass through great amounts of dense cranial bone.
-BE
From:
"russ sharbaugh" <strokedshovel@hotmail.com>
To:
blackecho@goingfaster.com>
Subject: Fw: your website
Sent:
Sat, 1 Nov 2003 21:39:29 -0500
PS: Why dont U post the stuff on your website at this address www.bikernews.org
and include your street address.
----- Original Message -----
From: russ sharbaugh
To: blackecho
Sent: Saturday, November 01, 2003 9:33 PM
Subject: your website
Why dont you show up at Daytona and spread your bullshit.
Probably because some Harley rider would beat your faggot ass. Your opinion
sucks and so do you.
_____________________
To
which I have replied...
_____________________
Thank you, Mr. “Stroked Shovel” Sharbaugh for pointing out once again why I make
fun of lackluster simian twats such as you. Simple email is something that
apparently confounds you to no end as I see that you couldn’t manage to compose
a coherent train of thought with one email, so you added a “P.S.” to a second
email and copied the first back to me for good measure.
I heartily guffawed at your pathetically lame attempt to imitate the
actions of more learned human beings as well as your utter failure at doing so.
Holy Mother of Mattel!
It’s obvious that you
have little more intelligence than the well gnawed upon and oft buried hickory
and mesquite basted rawhide treat that is the favorite chew toy of my rather
playful four year old black lab / golden retriever puppy.
Since you apparently cannot take me on in a one on one debate or confrontation,
you instead wish me to make a scheduled appearance among the multitude of your
unwashed brethren where you might incite a numerical advantage in your favor.
I’m sure that after a swift victory through sheer numbers you would undoubtedly
claim that it was a singular victory on your part and brag to no end of how your
obviously superior martial prowess brought about my defeat. Not very sporting,
but that is the way that the Harley mentality goes, since you cannot stand alone
(though you claim that you are all individuals …), you must therefore
work feverishly to accomplish your goals using a herd-like mentality. Even sheep
can be dangerous, Mr. Sharbaugh, if there are enough of them and you elicit a
stampede among the easily skittered flock in a small enough pasture.
Sadly, I must decline the heartfelt invitation to join you in your festive
redneck activities but I do appreciate the offer and all of its implied
sincerity. I’m sure that there will be banjo, fiddle and harmonica music for
all, from dusk to dawn, accompanied by much free-love style livestock molesting,
hound dog buggering, sister swapping and other perennial inbred deviant
debauchery, all accompanied of course to the kind of drunken, out of tune
country music singing that would make two stray cats
stop fucking.
Since you mention Daytona, you have aroused my curiosity in regard to that
location. My question in turn for you is, after the disbanding of the
hilariously embarrassing decade long “attempt” by Harley Davidson to field a
so-called superbike “team” with the laughable VR1000 (VR must have stood for “very
retarded”), why do you hill scoggins even go to
Daytona? Is it to partake of your once a year bath in the warm coastal waters?
Is it some type of holy pilgrimage to cleanse your soiled leathers and your
fecund souls of all the old beer vomit, cheap cigarette smoke, truck stop
waitress lipstick, and dried urine that they’ve accumulated in the last twelve
months?
No.
I think the real reason your kind is drawn to Daytona is for
the yearly opportunity to ride down into the city in one large group,
hooting and hollering like some redneck version of a Viking raiding party. There
you will proceed to systematically scare the weak hearted
snow birds, smash what evidence of higher civilization or modern technology you
might find and grab as many fertile women of breeding age as you can drag off by
their long flaxen hair or the incredibly tough space age elastic material of
their multi-colored thongs. I suspect it is your strategy and fervent hope that
enough of the slapped together mechanical jokes which
you call "motorcycles" may
actually manage to stay working just long enough during this yearly raid so that
at least some of you can successfully ride back out of Daytona again with
your cherished albeit kidnapped hot young prizes. That scenario is the only way
that your fetid old gene pool might see any new material in the foreseeable
future.
Let’s face cold, harsh reality, shall we, Mr. Sharbaugh?
There’s really nothing in Daytona during Bike Week for your kind but the
constant reminder of Harley’s shameful failure, the chance for posers such as
yourself to be laughed at and for your kind to see first hand real motorcycles
perform in something that Harley Davidson knows absolutely ditty squat about;
world class competition. Never did, never will.
It is my fervent belief that Daytona should be relabeled as “REAL Bike Week”,
and all of you hill scoggins caught trying to ride or tow your rusty old
antediluvian pieces of junk into that fair coastal city should be turned away,
by a show of force if need be, at the Florida state line or preferably sooner,
like Nevada.
Ah, good! I see that you have referred to my
posterior and used a descriptive reference of homosexuality to do so. How trite.
You plebian donkeyfucks really don’t have more than a one page playbook, now do
you? I truly marvel at how your kind ignorantly equates a simple difference of
opinion to be some adamant precursor for flaming homosexuality. To your kind,
anything that is different, anything that goes against what you are accustomed
to, anything that you don’t or can’t or won’t understand, or anything which you
simply don’t like is obviously “gay” and such things must therefore be destroyed
(or at least given a good swift ass kicking) as soon as possible. This clearly
shows that you are a Luddite and probably a chronic Onanist as well. I laugh
when I realize that physical violence seems to be the first resort of your kind
when it comes to basic problem solving, but then I guess God didn’t really
factory equip you odiferous hillbillies for even a
short battle of wits, now did He?
It truly boggles the educated mind how, rather than presenting reasonable facts
to the contrary, in a logical order to prove my arguments wrong, you instead
believe that physically hurting and injuring me will suffice to quickly bring me
around to your simple yet naïve way of thinking. Perhaps that observation is
true to some degree, say if I were to suffer severe brain damage during my
altercation with you, then I could very well understand how such a horrendous
beating might let me see the world more clearly from
your point of view.
The fact that you cannot refute my arguments is because my arguments
against your kind are true, well thought out, well
written, and they are based on common, inarguable fact.
As for my opinion sucking, that is merely your opinion and you are welcome to
form it in whatever fashion you may. I am a true individual, I stand alone,
therefore, your opinion of me is irrelevant and meaningless in the scope of my
life. I could care less what you or any of your kind may think of either me or
my efforts as the opinion of sheep has never mattered to the wolf, no matter how
hard they may bleat and bah. Alas, in the end,
your kind is suitable only for mockery and sport.
Mr. Sharbaugh, you’re certainly entitled to your opinion of me, I won’t belittle
you that. Lord knows it’s probably one of the few original things you truly can
call your own in your life and I’m not going to take what
little you have to begin with away from you.
PS: Why dont U post the stuff on your website at this address
www.bikernews.org and include your street address.
The simple fact of the matter is that for every insipid email which I have to
wade through from some leather clad, socially conforming, knee walking, hip
grabbing, head bobbing, cock slobbering, Harley-riding, butt goblin such as
yourself, I receive ten or more rather glowing emails with praise and support
for my website. These are well written emails, I might add, from people who have
an education, who understand what a real motorcycle
is, and who know that the letter “U” is never a substitute for the pronoun “you”
even when the letter by itself is capitalized. I’m afraid that your AOL roots
are showing, Mr. Sharbaugh, which would also clearly explain your apparent
ineptitude when trying to use even simple email.
Why do you feel that I should post my work there? Is bikernews.org offering
competitive hosting rates for websites? If so, then I just might switch over and
start letting them host my website. It might be funny to suddenly set up my shop
in an all Harley neighborhood. I can imagine surfing around the personal
websites and being entertained for days at people who take their selves way too
seriously and brag about spending lots of money for the privilege of owning junk
and dressing like other dimwitted social morons.
As for why I don’t and won’t post my opinions on other websites, well, I thought
that I had made that more than clear many times before on my site, but since
you’re obviously a rather slow learner bordering on imbecility, we’ll go over it
one more time for your benefit.
The simple answer is: I don’t troll other people’s websites or forums. Ever.
This is my opinion, I have a lot of fun with it, and I’m entitled to have it,
especially since I pay for the web space to host it. If you want to read my
opinion, then you are certainly welcome to do so, but you have to come to my web
space to do it. If you want to discuss my opinion, then I have set aside a forum
for you to do so, a forum which, I might add, I pay for at my expense. As for
the AA forums, you are free to post there if you like, but you will reap what
you sow. Check your ignorance at the door. That is your first and only warning.
As for posting my street address, you may find my street address clearly
displayed on my website, Mr. Sharbaugh, under the T-shirt ordering page. It has
been posted there for quite some time now. Since you were too stupid to find it
on your own (sorry I didn't use crayons, colored yarn, and rainbow glitter to
bring it down to your educational level),
I’ll repost it here for your benefit.
Christopher T. Shields
1117 National Guard Road
Columbia, MS 39429
I doubt you have the balls to post your street address in turn
(but if you do, I'll be glad to post it here with your original email)
because you really wouldn't want the world to know where a loser like yourself
resides. After all, if
you actually had a set of God given balls to begin with, then you wouldn’t need
to own a Harley in the first place, now would you?
Why, you may ask, would I ever post my home address on my website? Why the hell
not? I have nothing to fear from knuckle dragging mongoloid cretins such as you.
Being a police officer and a SWAT team member, I figure if any of you ever
actually do decide to show up at my home and if you’re foolish enough to do
something stupid, all over a difference of opinion or because you got your
teensie weensie little feelings hurt, then I’ve got a Darwin award nomination
with your name on it. Step right up, one per customer and I’ve got
plenty to go around for all.
I married a strong woman who can use a firearm as well as I can and who won’t go
to pieces when the chips are down. She was brought up with firearms playing an
important role in her life from an early age so you see why I don’t worry about
her when I’m out with the force or the SWAT team and she’s home alone
with our child. Her easy access to a wide variety of different calibers
of small arms stored securely in various areas of our domicile is second only to
her ability to use said firearms and her willingness to do so should the need
arise. If she nor I fear any of the local thugs, drug dealers, or hardcore
gangsters, all hardened criminals which I deal with on a daily basis, showing up
on our doorstep at odd hours of the night to sow their
revenge, then do you really think that some twinkle toed,
fuck pixie hiding behind an email account and talking
smack from far away is going to cause either she or I to lose any sleep?
Yawn.
Another good reason why I don’t worry about a bunch of your
kind showing up is because
most of the rolling jokes you call motorcycles would never make it this far down
here to begin with. You might start out with good intentions on some holy
redneck crusade a thousand bikes strong, but you’d be lucky if ten or more
actually made it all the way and those would be the ones that started the
journey on trailers and were never unloaded until right at
the very end. I might take your threats seriously when I see a bunch of brand new Ford HD edition pickup
trucks, black Lincoln Navigators, and black Hummer H2s pulling their black
climate controlled HD logo slathered cycle trailers into the local Wal-mart
parking lot. I think it will be funny to watch the parade of leather clad, brain
dead, HD mantra chanting (“Live to ride, ride to live.”) clones begin to
ambulate around, unloading a bunch of almost brand new Harleys while your fat,
whiney wives incessantly mewl and complain that they want to go to Shoney’s for
pancakes and maple syrup. I’m sure what token redneck army you could band
together would resemble an S&M version of a Shriner’s parade, only without the
pointy shoes, curved swords, or the tasseled fezzes. Studded leather bulging out
from pasty white skin tags with faded tattoos that no one can read anymore
qualifies as pretty damn scary in my book, yes sir.
I believe, Mr. Sharbaugh, that you are truly a man who puts his money where his
mouth is for it seems to me over the past several
years that a lot of your money must surely have found its way to Harley
Davidson’s big fat corporate ass and apparently that’s exactly where you keep
your lips parked from day to day.
P.S. I think you’re a
fucking idiot. That’s another opinion of mine as well, one that is also based on
facts and experience.