Sometimes, it is quite amusing. But more often than not, it gets excruciatingly boring to see grown men and women obsessing over the identity of one individual, as if that is all that matters in their pathetic little lives.
And when journalists and zourlanus indulge in that pointless exercise, you have to really ask yourself the question : Are these people mad? Or are they so hungry for attention, for any attention that they cannot see the terrible irony in trying to obtain some self satisfying, fake 'grandeur' in letting others know that they are in the secrets of the Gods, and they 'know' my identity?
As Baljinder said 3 years ago:
The reality is no one knows. A few think they do, but they are wrong.
Let me put it this way: It is so easy to send anyone to meet a few people and pretend to be PL simply by doing the following:
" Use our wonderful creole language in the manner that it is spoken and not in the way some arseholes would want you to write it; add a liberal sprinkling of the swear words in creole that we all love to use, except those who happen to have a large stick up their arses permanently; mention satini bomli griller a few times as the food of the Gods; refer to Mohammed Rafi as the real Voice of God, which is true by the way...; Mock the socio cultural parasites and the ugly, self appointed representatives of God and expect the usual flood of accusations of 'Islamophobia', 'malbarophobia', 'katolikophobia' (depending on who you are mocking..) and comments praising you when you mock zot bann and not nou bann; treat all our politicians ( with very few exceptions), all our political parties, all the wannabes who want to replace them by using slogans and nothing else, with contempt and derision, and show them to be the thieving scum that they really are; criticise our 'free and independent' press for rarely showing that freedom and independence that they continually brag about (this one is guaranteed to raise the hackles of the zourlanus, and to make otherwise seemingly decent journalists become quite defensive)".
Do this and a few other things and the dickheads will then tell their friends and colleagues with the smugness and superiority that is second nature to them that " Mo koner ki san la sa".
Someone once said that the idiot will always look at the finger pointing at the splendour of the moon rather than admiring the luminescence of the magical planet itself.
3 years later, the idiots are still looking at my finger to such an extent that I am now minded to hide it by sticking it up my arse...an activity that these people know all so well as this is what they do when they congregate in their little groups to discuss the one thing that apparently keeps them awake: Who is Paul Lismore?
And when journalists and zourlanus indulge in that pointless exercise, you have to really ask yourself the question : Are these people mad? Or are they so hungry for attention, for any attention that they cannot see the terrible irony in trying to obtain some self satisfying, fake 'grandeur' in letting others know that they are in the secrets of the Gods, and they 'know' my identity?
As Baljinder said 3 years ago:
" There is a Paul buried deep inside each one of us - the rebellious Paul. But we are all Pauls without balls.". Unfortunately, the bhai lookes and the pretentious seem to spend their time scratching their balls all day long whilst puffing their chests and telling their colleagues that they know who PL is. And the obvious question that any sane person would then ask is " Even if you know, so fucking what?".
The reality is no one knows. A few think they do, but they are wrong.
Let me put it this way: It is so easy to send anyone to meet a few people and pretend to be PL simply by doing the following:
" Use our wonderful creole language in the manner that it is spoken and not in the way some arseholes would want you to write it; add a liberal sprinkling of the swear words in creole that we all love to use, except those who happen to have a large stick up their arses permanently; mention satini bomli griller a few times as the food of the Gods; refer to Mohammed Rafi as the real Voice of God, which is true by the way...; Mock the socio cultural parasites and the ugly, self appointed representatives of God and expect the usual flood of accusations of 'Islamophobia', 'malbarophobia', 'katolikophobia' (depending on who you are mocking..) and comments praising you when you mock zot bann and not nou bann; treat all our politicians ( with very few exceptions), all our political parties, all the wannabes who want to replace them by using slogans and nothing else, with contempt and derision, and show them to be the thieving scum that they really are; criticise our 'free and independent' press for rarely showing that freedom and independence that they continually brag about (this one is guaranteed to raise the hackles of the zourlanus, and to make otherwise seemingly decent journalists become quite defensive)".
Do this and a few other things and the dickheads will then tell their friends and colleagues with the smugness and superiority that is second nature to them that " Mo koner ki san la sa".
Someone once said that the idiot will always look at the finger pointing at the splendour of the moon rather than admiring the luminescence of the magical planet itself.
3 years later, the idiots are still looking at my finger to such an extent that I am now minded to hide it by sticking it up my arse...an activity that these people know all so well as this is what they do when they congregate in their little groups to discuss the one thing that apparently keeps them awake: Who is Paul Lismore?
Grow up, for fuck sake!
