I give up on my posting format for this
Because this is hilarious. As flames go, I'm sure he spent a lot of time putting this together, so it deserves to get all the attention it can. I'm let down that it's mostly an attack and not constructive criticism, but it is the internet.
How serendipitous for you that I happened upon your story! You are about to
receive one of my more creative flames, written from the copious amount of
words which people suggested for my flame-writing challenge. After all, one
can only use a copy-paste flame for so long before it becomes trite, right?
Right.
Now, before I crack my knuckles and begin, I certainly hope you don’t
suffer from katagelophobia as I’m about to flame this disastrous fiasco you
call a story, or from triskaidekaphobia as this sentence will end with the
number 13.
I wish I could tell you that you didn’t have superfluous spelling errors or
that your loathsome grammar didn’t make me cringe. I wish I could tell you
that your plot wasn’t turbid and your characters banal. And I also wish I
could work the word antidisestablishmentarianism into this flame….but, alas,
I can’t do any of those things.
Now, perhaps the re is an excuse for you posting this irredeemable excrement.
Maybe you were drunk on a few strawberry daiquiris, or maybe you were even
attacked by a bevy of flailing birds when you were younger, thus causing a
permanent writing-related affliction. Or perhaps your computer was hijacked by
a crank-addicted Sasquatch or a monkey whose loose sphincter and love of
broccoli causes an aeruginous effluvium wherever he goes.
Whatever the excuse, it doesn’t make your story inscrutable to honest
feedback like this:
I would rather attend a hoedown where inbred midgets caterwaul and perform
fouettes while some guy named Jed plays the piano with an unmentionable body
part than read any more of this pitiful abomination you call a story. I would
rather be forced to participate in the domestication of rabid chupacabras than
read one more sentence of your crap. I would even rather have an internship
with Microsoft where I have to juxtapose logarithms for no reason and answer
questions in pig-Latin about misconfigurations or network error messages all
day.
I wish I could have faith that you will have an epiphany from this and
produce a copasetic story, or that you’ll become obsequious to the
fundamentals of the English language, but I think my left testicle will become
a famous daredevil who competes in monster truck races before that happens. In
other words: as a writer, you fail.
Let me go on to say that I was flattered he used my gigantic-paragraph-experiment in a lampooning lemon fic he posted in the same fandom. I guess I made an impression with a four-year-old story.
How serendipitous for you that I happened upon your story! You are about to
receive one of my more creative flames, written from the copious amount of
words which people suggested for my flame-writing challenge. After all, one
can only use a copy-paste flame for so long before it becomes trite, right?
Right.
Now, before I crack my knuckles and begin, I certainly hope you don’t
suffer from katagelophobia as I’m about to flame this disastrous fiasco you
call a story, or from triskaidekaphobia as this sentence will end with the
number 13.
I wish I could tell you that you didn’t have superfluous spelling errors or
that your loathsome grammar didn’t make me cringe. I wish I could tell you
that your plot wasn’t turbid and your characters banal. And I also wish I
could work the word antidisestablishmentarianism into this flame….but, alas,
I can’t do any of those things.
Now, perhaps the re is an excuse for you posting this irredeemable excrement.
Maybe you were drunk on a few strawberry daiquiris, or maybe you were even
attacked by a bevy of flailing birds when you were younger, thus causing a
permanent writing-related affliction. Or perhaps your computer was hijacked by
a crank-addicted Sasquatch or a monkey whose loose sphincter and love of
broccoli causes an aeruginous effluvium wherever he goes.
Whatever the excuse, it doesn’t make your story inscrutable to honest
feedback like this:
I would rather attend a hoedown where inbred midgets caterwaul and perform
fouettes while some guy named Jed plays the piano with an unmentionable body
part than read any more of this pitiful abomination you call a story. I would
rather be forced to participate in the domestication of rabid chupacabras than
read one more sentence of your crap. I would even rather have an internship
with Microsoft where I have to juxtapose logarithms for no reason and answer
questions in pig-Latin about misconfigurations or network error messages all
day.
I wish I could have faith that you will have an epiphany from this and
produce a copasetic story, or that you’ll become obsequious to the
fundamentals of the English language, but I think my left testicle will become
a famous daredevil who competes in monster truck races before that happens. In
other words: as a writer, you fail.
Let me go on to say that I was flattered he used my gigantic-paragraph-experiment in a lampooning lemon fic he posted in the same fandom. I guess I made an impression with a four-year-old story.