'Swounds! It Would Seem That James Fallon, My Rival Webby Nominee, is Now Trolling Me Like a Common Ruffian!
The knave first refused to respond to when I threw down the gauntlet of weirdness. Behold his novel roguishness and my renewed challenge!
Hear me, O, Internet! Recall you our tragic episode from a fortnight past, in which I challenged James Thomas Fallon, American television host and my fellow Webby nominee in the “General Social—Weird” category, to a duel of wits and weirdness for his light-hearted mockery of our shared category on “air” that I chose to interpret as a personal insult (as is my wont)?
To my dismay, the scoundrel refused. But I pressed the issue no further. After all, a gentleman need not pursue satisfaction from a rogue he considers to possess craven qualities deep in the blackened heart of his questionable character!
But, lo! James hath more trickery up his billowing sleeve than even I—an admitted rascal myself winkyface—had been able to foresee!
The time? This Tuesday last. The players? The cur himself, as well as gifted and notable jester Andrew Samberg. The scene? A comedy canticle entitled “Plant Dads”, which amusingly devolves into Samberg lamenting that a rival hath done his office ‘twixt his sheets. O, the hilarity of the woeful cuckold: an evergreen fountain of voluminous guffaws!
Yet now I ask you: Look upon the screengrab above! On the sinister side, the knave in question plots, adorned in false wig and mustache. I have grown accustomed to such false hairpieces in James’s comedy madrigals, even finding them fanciful and becharméd.
But woe unto me! For my own sprouting upper lip and dark curly locks would seem to suggest that James would seek to mock my countenance itself! And for those of you who skirted your freshman year English requirement, “countenance” means my FACE!
But, hold: I am slow to hotness, and this insult alone would I suffer gladly. For if I showcased my fury every time a scoundrel took aim upon my hairy brow I would be a Charybdis, indeed!
But no scoundrel, no rapscallion, not even any errant knave would think to bite his thumb at my passion for bonsai, as James has done!
Look you again above, and, O, prepare yourself: does not the bonsai tree below his jeering visage resemble my own with a calculated, villainesque fidelity unseen until this dire day?
I charge you: can there be any other plot in motion than to assail my appearance and ardor for small trees!?
I must assume that, when one does not have the courage to face down a fellow nominee in a duel of weirdness, he must resort to such petty diversions. Ha!
But no longer! Not only do I hereby “re-up” my challenge to James Thomas Fallon and his limited-reach cable access television show to create the weirdest video imaginable, but I HEREBY PROCLAIM HIM, AND WILL CONTINUE TO PROCLAIM HIM— WITHOUT CESSATION AND UNTIL THE END OF MY EARTHLY DAYS—A SWINDLER, A VILLAIN, and a BOUNDER WITHOUT HONOR UNTIL HE CHALLENGES ME IN THE ARENA OF WEIRDNESS!
James Thomas Fallon, if you not be such a knave as I have thus enumerated, take up the mantle of weirdness to which you have laid a claim, and duel me in single weird combat in video form! I’ll e’en allow you to name the terms and interwebbish locality!
Rather pugnaciously and without timidity of any sort,
Tobin Mitnick, Established Man of Honor, Tree-love, and Weirditude
An Out-of-Context Sentence from Must Love Trees: An Unconventional Guide
Page 60, quoted from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818):
“Thou didst seek my extinction, that I might cause greater wretchedness; and if yet, in some mode unknown to me, thou hadst not ceased to think and feel, thou wouldst not desire against me a vengeance greater than that which I feel.”
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