My True Story
Poor Mr. Thorne Retreats to the..
Trademarks and Fairytales of..
Video-of-Text, or Why I Love..
I Retract My Article
Lieutenant Worf Mows My Lawn..
Susceptibility to Advertising
I Have "Haxxored" Your Mindset
Conversations with David Thorne
Can I Pay for This with Fake..
scott
mintred.com
Look at my new crappy site!
Friday, January 25, 2002 by scott
So I coded this up real quick...
Now I can post shite to the web & it'll be "mad fat", i mean, "phat".
So screw the rest of you, my site is the best.
Except for maybe
your
site ;)
(2) Comments
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Ambition unmatched by others!
Hey! You guys did it! You've read everything on my site, getting you all the way back to the first post ever!
Then you became frustrated at having nothing more to amuse you, and you started posting random spam and rants. Weird, huh?
Well, thanks for reading! It's been fun!
:)
@Nat: So what? Why are you posting some nonsense about David Thorne in response to my post from 2002? I don't even think that David had a site back then. Hell, he was probably still sucking cock on the corner of Grote and Byron for porn money, dreaming dreams of one day having Cafepress print copies of a book for him.
Friday, September 24, 2010 by scott
Oh sweetie!! We didn't read your shit... We just all clicked "Bad" because we just went ahead and assumed it was crap :)
Wednesday, September 29, 2010 by
You have to do this!
***** SEND THIS TO AT LEAST 10 PEOPLE OR ELSE YOU WILL GET BAD LUCK FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!
101 FUN THINGS TO DO AT WAL-MART
1. Take shopping carts for the express purpose of filling them
and stranding them at strategic locations.
2. Ride those little electronic cars at the front of the store.
3. Set all the alarm clocks to go off at ten minute intervals
throughout the day.
4. Start playing Calvinball; see how many people you can get
to join in.
5. Contaminate the entire auto department by sampling all the
spray air fresheners.
6. Challenge other customers to duels with tubes of gift wrap.
7. Leave cryptic messages on the typewriters.
8. Re-dress the mannequins as you see fit.
9. When there are people behind you, walk REALLY SLOW,
especially thin narrow aisles.
10. Walk up to an employee and tell him in an official tone, “I
think we’ve got a Code 3 in Housewares,” and see what
happens.
11. Tune all the radios to a polka station; then turn them all off
and turn the volumes to “10?.
12. Play with the automatic doors.
13. Walk up to complete strangers and say, “Hi! I haven’t seen
you in so long!…” etc. See if they play along to avoid
embarrassment.
14. While walking through the clothing department, ask
yourself loud enough for all to hear, “Who BUYS this junk,
anyway?”
15. Repeat Number 14 in the jewelry department.
16. Ride a display bicycle through the store; claim you’re
taking it for a “test drive.”
17. Follow people through the aisles, always staying about
five feet away. Continue to do this until they leave the
department.
18. Play soccer with a group of friends, using the entire store
as your playing field.
19. As the cashier runs your purchases over the scanner, look
mesmerized and say, “Wow. Magic!”
20. Put M&M’s on layaway.
21. Move “Caution: Wet Floor” signs to carpeted areas.
22. Set up a tent in the camping department; tell others you’ll
only invite them in if they bring pillows from Bed and Bath.
23. Test the fishing rods and see what you can “catch” from
the other aisles.
24. Ask other customers if they have any Grey Poupon.
25. Drape a blanket around your shoulders and run around
saying,”…I’m Batman. Come, Robin, to the Batcave!”
26. TP as much of the store as possible.
27. Randomly throw things over into neighboring aisles.
28. Play with the calculators so that they all spell “hello”
upside down.
29. When someone asks if you need help, begin to cry and ask,
“Why won’t you people just leave me alone?”
30. Make up nonsense products and ask newly hired
employees if there are any in stock, i.e., “Do you have any
Shnerples here?”
31. Take up an entire aisle in Toys by setting up a full scale
battlefield with G.I. Joes vs. the X-Men.
32. Take bets on the battle described above.
33. Hold indoor shopping cart races.
34. Dart around suspiciously while humming the theme from
“Mission: Impossible.”
35. Run up to an employee (preferably a male) while
squeezing your legs together and practically yell at him ” I
need some tampons!!”
36. Try on bras in the sewing/fabric department.
37. Try on bras over top of your clothes.
38. Attempt to fit into very large gym bags.
39. Attempt to fit others into very large gym bags.
40. Say things like, “Would you be so kind as to direct me to
your Twinkies?”
41. Set up a “Valet Parking” sign in front of the store.
42. Two words: “Marco Polo.”
43. Leave Cheerios in Lawn and Garden, pillows in the pet
food aisle, etc.
44. “Re-alphabetize” the CD’s in Electronics.
45. Make a trail of orange juice on the ground, leading to the
restrooms
46. When someone steps away from their cart to look at
something, quickly make off with it without saying a word.
47. Relax in the patio furniture until you get kicked out.
48. When an announcement comes over the loudspeaker,
assume the fetal position and scream, “No, no! It’s those
voices again!”
49. Pay off layaways fifty cents at a time.
50. Drag a lounge chair on display over to the magazines and
relax. If the store has a food court, buy a soft drink; explain
that you don’t get out much, and ask if they can put a little
umbrella in it.
51. While walking around the store, sing in your loudest voice
possible “sex and candy”
52. Try putting different pairs of women’s panties on your
head and walk around the store casually.
53. Leave small sacrifices or gifts in the hands of the
mannequins.
54. Nonchalantly “test” the brushes and combs in Cosmetics.
55. When two or three people are walking ahead of you, run
between them, yelling, “Red Rover!”
56. Look right into the security camera, and use it as a mirror
while you pick your nose.
57. Set up another battlefield with G.I. Joes vs. G.I. Janes.
(Red lipstick might give an interesting effect!!!)
58. While handling guns in the hunting department, suddenly
ask the clerk if he knows where the anti-depressants are. Act
as spastic as possible.
59. While no one’s watching quickly switch the men’s and
women’s signs on the doors of the rest room.
60. Fill your cart with boxes of condoms, and watch
everyone’s jaws drop when you attempt to buy them.
61. In the auto department, practice your “Madonna” look with
various funnels.
62. Hide in the clothing racks and when people browse
through, say things like “the fat man walks alone,” and scare
them into believing that the clothes are talking to them
63. While walking around alone, pretend someone is with you
and get into a very serious conversation. Ex: The person is
breaking up with you and you begin crying “How could you
do this to me? I thought you loved me! I knew there was
another girl, but I thought I had won. You kissed ME
darling.” Then act as though you are being beaten and fall onto
the ground screaming and having convulsions.
64. Go to an empty checkout stand and try to check people
out.
65. Get a stuffed animal and go to the front of the store and
begin stroking it lovingly, saying “Good girl, good bessie.”
66. Go over to the shoe department and try on every pair of
shoes, not putiing one pair back. Take the paper from the
boxes and throw it in various aisles.
67. Ask other customers if they have any Grey Poupon.
68. In the makeup department, spray yourself with every
perfume there is, then walk up to a boy who is with another
girl and start flirting with him in that annoying, ditsy way.
“hi!!!! (giggle) What’s your sign?(giggle).” When the boy
shows no interest, start hitting on the girl the exact same way.
“hi!!!! (giggle) What’s your sign?(giggle).”
69. Get boxes of Condoms and randomly put them in peoples
carts when they don’t realize it!
70. Walk around the perfume department with a bottle of
super strong perfume and spray people as they walk by. Lean
in and sniff them then jump back and wave your hand in front
of your nose and saying “Oh god, your over powering the
perfume!!”
71. Hit on the elderly.
72. Hit on 5 year olds.
73. In the food aisle, pretend like there’s a little bug, slowly
move your head to the right, then swing your head to the left
as if your trying to follow it. Slowly lower your head to the
ground, then start spinning around in circles stomping like
crazy. Then finally yell out “Yes!!! I got it!!! Wow, that was
the biggest Cockrouch I’ve ever seen, i think it was pregnant!!!
Hey look, there’s another one!!!” Then Repeat.
74. Repeat 73 with a can of bug spray.
75. Crawl around on the ground and pretend that your a cat.
Meow when people walk by, rub up against their legs, etc.
76. Ride around on those electric cars and pretend that your a
prissy English Man. Say things like “Cheerio, good man.” to
people who walk by. And don’t forget to have perfect posture.
77. Start grunting like Beavis and Butthead while chasing your
friends up and down aisles trying to run over them with those
electric cars. Make sure to tell your friends to act like they
don’t know you.
78. Spend all your money riding on those little rides for
toddlers. Fit the character; if your on a hoarse, then pretend
that your a cowboy, etc.. And If a little kid comes over
wanting to use it, start barking at them until
they run away crying.
79. Have silly string fights with a friend. Hide behind
customers and “accidentally” hit the people instead of your
friend.
80. Excesively use anything thing that says “Try Me”.
81. Start pocketing any and all free samples.
82. Draw mustaches on all the pictures and mannequins.
82. Walk up to the customer service and when they say
“Hello, how may I help you?” say “Yes, I’ll have a Quarter
Pounder with cheese, one strawberry shake, a large order of
french fries and a diet coke.” And when they start to talk, say
“Oh, to go”. Then when they say that they can’t give it to you
say “Oh, This is because I’m gay isn’t it? I’d expect this from
Caldors, but not Walmart. People who are gay are just like
everyone else your know. You digust me” Then walk away
mumbling to yourself. If your a guy, try to act as valley- girl-
like as you can
83. Start to madly scratch yourself and walk up to people
asking where the rash cream is because your family and all
your friends seem to have a rash too.
84. When your alone, have loud conversations with your
“multiple personalities”. Have an English man, a Southern
person, someone from New York, a Grandma, and a 5 year old
girl all at the same time. You have to use accents. They should
sound like this: “Great idea good fellow, we shall have a jolly
good time.(English)” “Look, oall I wanna do, is wok ta
Stawbucks and git a cawfee(New York)” Etc.
85. Start “dancing” like mad. Basically, just wail your arms
and legs around like your having some kind of massive
seizure.
86. Try on crazy costumes and walk casually through the
store.
87. Stick your arm in your jacket and suspiciously start to
leave the store. Get really tense and start to lean over as your
walking through the doors As if your suspecting the alarms to
go off. Then when it doesn’t go off, let out a big sigh. Then
quickly look around you to see who’s watching and run away
as fast as your can.
88. Balance EVERYTHING you see on the tips of your finger,
your nose, your forehead, and the top of your head while
singing the circus song.
89. Put jockstraps in the lingerie department
90. Put lingerie in the men’s department.
91. Put super sexy lingerie in old men’s carts when they turn
around.
92. When your alone, start screaming help and yelling that
someone istrying to rape you. Then when everyone runs over,
start crying and saying “All I ever wanted was a little
attention” Then run away crying.
93. Spend hours staring at a little blinking light. After a while,
start saying blink everytime it blinks. Don’t look away, just
stay mesmerized.
94. Walk up to a lady and calmly say “Help me. The voices in
my head are telling me to do naughty things.” Then clap your
hands over your ears, fly yell head around and start screaming
“NO!!! I DON’T WANT TO HURT THE NICE LADY NO
NO NO NO!!!!” Then suddenly stop, look her straight in the
eyes, and Calmly say “I…will start…a fire…” The pull out a
zippo and start laughing hysterically in an evil way. But don’t
light the zippo, just hold it closed.
95. Light a match under a spinkler.
96. Walk up to someone and say “Oh, so your back for more. I
warned you never to come back here. Wait here while i go get
my shot gun”. Then walk away.
97. Walk up to a guy and say “Oh my god, is it you? Oh my
god it is!!! I haven’t seen you in so long!!!!” Then kiss him.
Then slap and him say “Why didn’t you ever call me??” Then
walk away. Much more affective if you’re a guy.
98. Stand next to a maniquin and pretend that your a
mannequin. Try to hold the same position for as long as
possible. Then finally as someone is walking by, check your
watch and say. “Finally, my shift is done. I really don’t get
paid enough to do this”
99. Start singing oldies songs in to megaphone.
100. Act like your about to cry and ask people “Have you seen
my mommy?”
101. Steal a Walmart shirt. The possibilities are endless.
BONUS* Attempt all of the above during the same visit.
***** SEND THIS TO AT LEAST 10 PEOPLE OR ELSE YOU WILL GET BAD LUCK FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!
Friday, February 27, 2009 by LOL, dicklock
HEAVY GRAPHICS YOU WILL GET A CONCUSION
This just in : NEW VIRUS WARNING
If you receive an e-mail with a subject line of “Badtimes,” delete it immediately
WITHOUT reading it. This is a very dangerous Email virus — the most
dangerous Email virus yet.
IMPORTANT: It will re-write your hard drive. Not only that, but it will
scramble any disks that are even close to your computer. It will recalibrate your
refrigerator’s coolness setting so all your ice cream melts and milk curdles. It
will demagnetize the strips on all your credit cards, reprogram your ATM access
code, screw up the tracking on your VCR, and use subspace field harmonics to
scratch any CDs you try to play. It will give your ex-boy/girlfriend your new
phone number. It will mix antifreeze into your fish tank. It will drink all your
beer and leave its dirty socks on the coffee table when there’s company coming
over. It will hide your car keys when you are late for work and interfere with
your car radio so that you hear only static while stuck in traffic.
Badtimes will make you fall in love with a hardened pedophile. It will give you
nightmares about circus midgets. It will replace your shampoo with Nair and
your Nair with Rogaine, all while dating your current boy/girlfriend behind your
back and billing their hotel rendezvous to your Visa card. It will seduce your
grandmother. It does not matter if she is dead, such is the power of Badtimes, it
reaches out beyond the grave to sully those things we hold most dear. Badtimes
will give you Dutch Elm disease. It will leave the toilet seat up and leave the
hairdryer plugged in dangerously close to a full bathtub. It will wantonly remove
the forbidden tags from your mattresses and pillows, and refill your skim milk
with whole. It is insidious and subtle. It is dangerous and terrifying to behold.
It is also a rather interesting shade of mauve.
These are just a few signs.
Be very, very afraid.
Friday, February 27, 2009 by Cautious!!!!!!!!
THIS SITE FUCKING SUCKS
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Tuesday, April 21, 2009 by Grass
ahmffffffff
bless who
Saturday, July 11, 2009 by jytrf
Reply
I bought 2 copies of David Thornes book. 1 for me and the other one for my sister in Canada (coz she sent me the link to his web page about having pets in the apartment) I laughed so much I cried. Book is very good.
Thursday, September 10, 2009 by Nat
HAHAHAHAHAHA
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by HAHAHAHA
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Fake
Davey Davey Davey. You let the ball slip on this one. Your last article about george from West Virginia calling you a foggot is obviously fake because you are in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as you would use your local time in your emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless you have a time machine. The hilarious thing is that you can't post this on your website because it proves you are a fake and why your website is far less humorous than mine.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 2.44pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Good to hear from you again. While some might describe your behaviour as obsessive, I prefer to think of you as special. Like one of those children that spins until they vomit or collects Pogs. Despite having nobody to play Pogs with. Thank you for sharing the results of your time zone research. Although I am currently in the US, rendering your blunt point less pointy, I do, coincidentally, own a time machine.
My time machine is shaped like a closet. I discovered its capabilities purely by accident one day when I climbed in, sat there for a bit, and emerged to find myself in the future. Which is almost exactly like the present except a little darker. I was expecting to see robots and flying cars but there weren't any. If I had a flying car, I would fly to your house and say "Look Scott, I have a flying car, I would love to take you for a ride but unfortunately your weight exceeds that of future anti-gravity propulsion technologies." You would probably become irrational with envy and attempt to catch me but due to what leg muscles you have atrophying from too many hours spent on the computer researching world time zones, you wouldn't be able to jump very high and I would hover just a few inches above your sausage-like finger flailing.
While I have not yet been successful in my attempts to travel backwards in time, only forward, if I climb into the closet backwards this will probably work. I plan on traveling back to the year 2009 to see what it was like before continuing my journey back to your grade seven class and explaining to a young Scott Mintred that while his current metabolism may be able to cope with forty Twinkies per day and an exercise routine consisting of breathing and blinking, it is patently going to catch up with him in later life. I will also attempt to explain that time spent on obsessive jealousy is time that would be better spent exploring his own capabilities. I will then give him a slap.
I have attached a drawing of my time machine should you wish to build your own in order to travel back several hours to construct a better argument or several years to take up jogging.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 4.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Fake
Lolcats5000. Your nonsense and lies prove nothing. I'm easily twice as intelligent as you are, I'm not fat and at least the stories on my website are factual. Should it make for less interesting reading, then so be it. You should do some research on time travel before you make a fool of yourself. To travel through time you need to travel faster than the speed of light. A closet can't move. If I built a time machine I'd do the world a favor and go back in time and stop your mother from reproducing.
Scott
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.12pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
Your attempt to convince my mother not to procreate would be unsuccessful as I would simply go back a few minutes before you appeared and tell her not to listen to men wearing elastic waistband pants. I would also hide behind a tree until you showed up and give you a slap as you waddled past.
While it would be irresponsible for me to condone your obsessive behaviour, I do understand it. When I was in grade three, I was obsessed with a girl named Emma Jenkins. As neither of us knew cursive, I sought to impress her by tracing several pages of script from an old manuscript and, stating that it was a love letter and I had known cursive since the age of two, presented it to her. That night, Emma's father rang my mother with instructions that I was not to communicate with their seven year old daughter again. Either socially or via letters describing her child bearing hips and round Victorian buttocks. Another time, obsessively jealous of the fact Bradley McPherson had been selected to play the lead role in our fifth grade school play, I constructed a plan to make him ill. Figuring this would automatically give me his role of King of the Faeiries and someone else would take over mine as tree number two, I collected several snot laden tissues from my flu-ridden sister's bedside table and took them to school the next day. With a thin film of the mucus covering my hands, I demonstrated to Bradley the correct procedure for shaking hands before betting him that he could not fit a whole fist in his mouth. Unfortunately, while Bradley was fine the night of the play, I was not. Unable to find a replacement for tree number two and dosed up with half a bottle of Robitussin and several flu tablets, I managed to fullfill my role of standing still with my arms held up for about ten minutes before inexplicably deciding it would be appropriate to sing The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats. Luckily, Emma, dressed as a giant mushroom, broke my fall as I passed out.
Although, going by your argument, you have just emailed me at 2.57am meaning your email must be fabricated, I accept your critical analysis of my design and have attached a modified version incorporating your technical and personal requirements.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.31pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I don't like Wesley jackass and you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer are you, if I told your mother not to reproduce you wouldn't exist to go back and talk to her. Coup de grace.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 5.40pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
If you managed to persuade my mother not to procreate, I would not exist to send you the plans for constructing your own time machine in which to travel back in time to persuade my mother not to procreate. Apparently this is known as a pair of ducks. I have no idea why but assume it alludes to the fact that if a duck were capable of constructing a time machine and traveling back in time to meet itself, there would be two of them. One would probably need to wear a hat or something to avoid confusion.
If I did go back in time and meet myself, I would have a good look at the back of my head. If you went back in time and met yourself, you would have someone to play Pogs with.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd go back in time and punch you in the back of your head.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.15pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to you doing so and tell myself to duck.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
I'd just go back 5 seconds before that and punch you in the back of your head before you tell the other you to duck.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.34pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
I would travel back five seconds prior to that and tell both my other selves to duck. Perhaps that is where the phrase 'pair of ducks' originated.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 6.48pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
It's paradox imbecile, not pair of ducks. For someone who thinks they are smart you are not very smart. My intellect is far superior to yours so it would be simple for me to stay one step ahead of you. Just as I always do. I'd just go back and stab you before you were born or go back to 1998 and register the name google and use some of my billions to pay for a hit on you.
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 7.22pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
Dear Scott,
As no man is an island, regardless of size, it is hardly surprising that the weight of your obsession would require hiring professional help. But, your attempt to purchase the Google name would prove unsuccessful as I would travel back to 1988 and invent the internet, adding a clause that Benny Hill look-a-likes with pathological obsessive jealousy disorders stemming from issues with self-confidence and self-esteem, are not allowed to use it.
This would not only foil your plan to own Google but also save people the misfortune of clicking on your website when googling the word 'beige'. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a slow child to stop defecating in the bath, there eventually comes a time when you just pull the plug and slap him.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 8.36pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fake
My website isnt beige imbecile. Its a color I invented called Priceless Coral. It looks a lot better than your artsy-fartsy nonsense and is a lot better designed. Learn from someone that knows what they're doing on the internets. Good design is about readability and great content. I'm not interested in continuing this converstation when I have already proven my point so you can fuck off now.
From: David Thorne
Date: Wednesday 13 February 2019 12.03
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Message from the future.
Dear Scott,
This is David from the future and I am sending you good news. Due to changes in media based stereotypes, spherical is now considered the ideal body type and Pogs is an Olympic sport. Also, priceless coral is the new black.
Regards, David.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Friday 17 September 2010 9.12pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Message from the future.
I said fuck off imbecile. Don't contact me again and if you post any of my emails you will have a legal suite.
From: Scott Mintred
Date: Thursday 16 September 2010 8.02pm
To: Scott Mintred
Subject: Proof that David's stuff is fake.
Dear Scott,
This is Scott from the past and I am sending you good news. It seems David has let the ball slip. His last article about george from West Virginia calling him a foggot is obviously fake because he is in Adelaide Australia which is 13 hours and 30 minutes ahead of West Virginia. Seeing as he would use his local time in his emails, this would mean George would be awake and writing emails at 5:21am, 8:38am, 11:48pm, and 1:32am unless he too has a time machine. You should email him this fact. The hilarious thing is that he won't be able to post the email on his website because it proves once and for all that he is a fake and why his website is far less humorous than ours.
Also, you are awesome and girls think you are hot.
Scott.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010 by
My True Story (53)
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