I cut my flame warrior teeth on the AA/Anti-AA battles back in the late 90's. On the forums I frequented, lax regulations and html allowed me to utilize my preferred ordnance, the jpg and the animated gif.
Unfortunately, YouTube doesn't let me write code, so like any other dedicated YouTube flamer, I was forced to invest in a literary arsenal. Thanks to pervasive internet aggression, I've had ample opportunity to hone my verbal rapier. Although I do not yet consider myself to be a master at verbal jousting, I can usually hold my ground when battling AA trolls.
I dearly miss the days when an unexpected fifty Hitler post could disarm the incautious adversary, and I could crush my opponent with an elaborately photoshopped image.
Inspired by one version of the "ultimate flame" that's been bouncing around the Internet for quite some time, I decided to try my hand at writing one of my own.
So here it is; I dedicate this to my most detested and seemingly inexhaustible Troll.
To our most despised monster:
I hesitate to put finger to keyboard because I'm not certain that I have the stamina to adequately express my disdain for you, the monster whose mere presence marks the near-death of the human race. The horror produced when one is forced to accept the existence of any organism as revolting, contemptible, and toxic to life as you, can only be relieved by expelling that disgust and committing it to paper.
From the moment of your arrival on the planet, your outstanding feature has been a complete lack of life-affirming traits. Your physical being is a Frankensteinian amalgamation of every organic substance known to elicit disgust, combined and amplified to a life-endangering level, and then some. It is impossible for any organism more highly evolved than a maggot to endure even the most fleeting glance at your physical form. The mere sight of you produces a visceral response that cannot be equaled by consumption of the most powerful emetic available in the human pharmacopoeia. Wracking and often fatal convulsions of the digestive system always follow any accidental sighting of you.
As if visual recognition of you were not revolting enough, the scent glands of your body produce such an objectionable odor that one of our foremost minds was inspired to refer to it as the olfactory equivalent of the Tsar Bomba. Sustained exposure to your corrosive fumes, indeed, any exposure lasting longer than a few seconds, will result in complete disintegration of any complex organism, most of the viruses and prions, and, truth be told, a large number of inorganic substances. The most elaborate gas masks available offer no protection from your emissions, and the protective outerwear provided to astronauts for use in outer space is of limited effectiveness in your proximity. It has been theorized that you are more toxic to carbon-based lifeforms than vacuum itself.
Your mother would never have survived your delivery if not for the previously unknown and extraordinarily durable elastic caul that surrounded your fetal form. The moment your head became visible during your birth, an unendurably foul odor issued forth from the birth canal, forcing the entire medical staff to flee the hospital. Most of them were never heard from again. Their shrieks of agony and terror could be heard long after they had disappeared from sight. Your mother, (who mercifully experienced complete amnesia of several days preceding your birth and more than a week after it), did not need to strain to expel your monstrous form. A series of racking convulsions, induced within her womb by your repulsively squirming larval body were so powerful that, in addition to squirting your slime covered, lumpen, reeking and squalling mass across the room, out the door, and 75 feet down an adjacent hallway, broke 17 bones in her body and reduced her to permanent, blithering insanity punctuated by moments of abject terror.
You were not raised by humans. No human, however saintly, physically resilient, and lacking in sensory perception, could tolerate the sight, sounds, and smell of any object as revolting as you. Like a snake you shed your disgusting caul and slithered out of the hospital, across the parking lot, and into an adjacent bog. You were quickly approached, and later adopted by an enormous, aging and maternally-deprived lamprey who almost rejected you as unfit. You repaid the animal affection of this piscean worm by consuming her, as well as every other living being in the immediate vicinity, shortly after the second anniversary of your birth.
As you matured, large colonies of slime molds established themselves upon much of what I hesitate to refer to as your skin. You took on a faintly phosphorescent greenish hue. Your odor ripened and increased to a level commensurate with that of the interior of a tightly sealed Limburger cheese factory that had been left unattended under a scorching sun after an environmental disaster.
Had anyone been courageous enough to attempt to examine you, they would have discovered that you had no discernible brain, or even a recognizable nervous system. For years you reeked and squalled, polluting the Earth's atmosphere so badly that any vertebrate life form that was unable to find refuge at least a mile beneath the Earth's crust fell ill and subsequently expired. Your only companions, if one could refer to them as that, were a very few specimens of the lower life forms that were especially resistant to organic toxins.
During the decades you roamed your small corner of the scorched planet, you expressed your feeble instinctual desires with loudly reverberating grunts, squeals, and shrieks. You were possessed of powerful vestigial lungs. You lacked, as one would suspect, any sense of rhythm altogether.
As you matured into adolescence and later adulthood, our ravaged planet was visited by various exploratory teams of extraterrestrials. You had no knowledge of the mechanics of reproduction, but you did possess a rudimentary instinctual urge, and you attempted to mate with the vessels that conveyed these unfortunate aliens. Your blundering attempts at procreation resulted in great agony and loss of life. Eventually the word spread that the planet Earth, formerly praised throughout the galaxy as a paradise for sentient carbon-based lifeforms, was currently uninhabitable.
Further exploratory forays were cancelled. Sensors were strategically placed in the upper atmosphere in anticipation of your inevitable demise and the restoration of Earth's former life-supporting ecology. Estimates of the amount of time that would be necessary for a complete recovery of the planet's surface were calculated. Opinions differed, but most interplanetary experts agreed that complete dispersion of your toxic byproducts would require several centuries. It was estimated that new life forms would not evolve to replace the ones your poisons had eliminated for several millennia.
The planet Earth was subsequently designated on cosmic maps by cryptic hieroglyphs that represented the human vocal sound forms "Tom Perkins". These hieroglyphs were sometimes replaced by the revolting image of a fattish, round, orange and lumpy, vaguely humanoid sensory organ that contained several horrifying but closed orifices. Earth's vicinity was also designated by the universal symbol for chemical toxicity, a pair of human thigh bones forming a diagonal cross.
As the tiny remnant of humans who had possessed enough fortitude to survive your presence for long enough to migrate to shelter deep beneath the Earth's surface awaits, anxiously, your demise, we near the 60th anniversary of your apocalyptic birth. Our most learned scientific minds predict that, given enough time and much careful nurturing, the Earth's surface can recover to a level adequate to sustain human life.
Superstitious rituals and religious ceremonies, intended as appeals to the Gods for intervention have formed, dissolved, and reformed throughout the decades mankind has been forced by your presence above to exist underground.
Several excursions to the surface were recently launched by valiant groups of explorers; they confirmed that you have entered into the physical deterioration any complex organism can expect to experience at the end of its life cycle. Bits of your skin have begun to slough off, and your odor is even more nausea-producing than previously. These olfactory emanations appear to be slightly less corrosive and toxic than in the past.
Sightings of newly sprouted plant life have been reported, tiny and weak, but deliciously green; these harbingers of newly evolved vegetal life offer hope that we may one day return to Earth's surface. The horrifying shrieks and curdles that our learned scientists believe signify your attempts to obtain a mate have lessened greatly in strength and quantity. These changes parallel the inevitable deterioration characteristic of advanced age in that species from which your mutated form was spawned.
We wait. Hopefully, in supplication to the powers we invoke, we wait for delivery from the horrible affliction visited upon our beleaguered planet by your birth. We impatiently await your death, longing to return to the surface of our planet, our mother, our most revered Goddess, our beloved home, the Earth.
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