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Peter "Hypertension" Howard is a liar and a thief and a false accuser



 
 
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  #1  
Old June 7th 09, 04:22 AM posted to rec.bicycles.tech
Andre Jute[_2_]
external usenet poster
 
Posts: 10,422
Default Peter "Hypertension" Howard is a liar and a thief and a false accuser

Peter "Hypertension" Howard, under the pseudonym "Antitroll", has
repeatedly under the headline "Andre Jute Great Lie From The Past -
June 7" claimed that the text below is a lie. Howard does this because
he is worthless and talentless and tries to attract attention to
himself by assaulting his betters. So let's give the poor tenthrate
puddingpull the attention he craves.

Yo, Howard, you wretched little man. You claim the text isn't true, so
why don't you prove it isn't true? This is your big chance.

By the way, you're a thief as well as a false accuser. That is my
copyright text below and I didn't give you permission to use it.

Andre Jute
Laughing already at the little man's antics

THE TEXT IN FULL

******
I had connections to the Zulu, for instance I had gone through their
manhood rites. I'm a blood brother of several of their current
leaders.
So, when some British eejit (South Africans were never insular; my
university, the birthplace of apartheid, had an official policy of
hiring teachers from around the world) suggested we should study
native
medicine, some other ignoramuses confused it with homeopathy. I knew
better. I suggested, with a barely straight face, that I should
apprentice to a Zulu witchdoctor. While those who'd been in-country
longest laughed with hands in front of their mouths at my joke, the
well-meaning ignorant applauded loudly. So, fortified by a fat
scholarship (I bought an Austin-Healey 3000 Mk III *and* made an
entire
feature film called Visitante out of it!), I went off to play polo in
Zululand. The witchdoctor, who got his orders from the royal hut,
gave
me a bye for umpteen credits but a supervisor turned up with an
interpreter for the passing-out tests. Behind my back the witchdoctor
told this guy that he taught me to cast a mean spell (this was a lie
--
I learned from his father many years before) and the supervisor
wanted
a demonstration, so I gave him a painful and irritating rash in a
private place. He was ****ed off, not because of the rash, but
because,
"Jesus Christ, Andre, how the **** can I stand up in front of the
Senate and tell them we should cum you because you gave me pimples on
my balls? They'll laugh both of us out of the room, not least for the
pun." I chuckled dutifully at his joke, shrugged, and went off
ice-skating in Durban a couple of hundred miles away with a girl I
met
casting for my little movie; I knew he would find a way to ensure my
laudes. What he and the doped-up witchdoctor concocted in my absence
was truly horrifying; he because he was ignorant, the witchdoctor
because he inhaled so much marijuana (with which I paid him for my
apprenticeship) that he was careless of the consequences of ****ing
with me. I could do small-scale, personal "witchcraft"; any
accomplished psychologist can give an impressionable a twitch. But
what
these two cooked up as final test nearly killed me by thirst and
starvation. They parked me in front of a derelict hut miles from
anywhere people knew me as a friend of the main men, in the sun. All
I
had to do was use my mind to persuade women, working in fields so
distant that I could barely make them out, to bring me food and
water.
I didn't succeed until the third day... I was in hospital for another
three with sunburn. I wrecked the witchdoctor's career for his
stupidity but let the other guy run; he was just ignorant.

I hate to disappoint you but a witchdoctor doesn't do anything a
psychologist doesn't. He just has some mumbo jumbo for sleight of
hand.
And he uses herbs instead of artificially made chemicals. (The rash
on
the balls of the supervisor was caused by some carefully planted
hints
about his sexual habits and an infusion in his beer; he did it with
his
own mind, helped by "homeopathy"!) And, because he doesn't have a
professional body muttering about behaving professionally, a
witchdoctor gets away with **** which could get a professional
disbarred, like forecasting the future (invariably accurately because
he does it to impressionables who then move heaven and earth to make
his prediction come true). The difference between a witchdoctor and a
good psychologist is not magic but showmanship.

********
Ads
  #2  
Old June 7th 09, 04:39 AM posted to rec.bicycles.tech
Antitroll
external usenet poster
 
Posts: 52
Default Peter "Hypertension" Howard is a liar and a thief and a false accuser


"Andre Jute" wrote in message
...
Peter "Hypertension" Howard, under the pseudonym "Antitroll", has
repeatedly under the headline "Andre Jute Great Lie From The Past -
June 7" claimed that the text below is a lie. Howard does this because
he is worthless and talentless and tries to attract attention to
himself by assaulting his betters. So let's give the poor tenthrate
puddingpull the attention he craves.

Yo, Howard, you wretched little man. You claim the text isn't true, so
why don't you prove it isn't true? This is your big chance.

By the way, you're a thief as well as a false accuser. That is my
copyright text below and I didn't give you permission to use it.

Andre Jute
Laughing already at the little man's antics

THE TEXT IN FULL

******
I had connections to the Zulu, for instance I had gone through their
manhood rites. I'm a blood brother of several of their current
leaders.
So, when some British eejit (South Africans were never insular; my
university, the birthplace of apartheid, had an official policy of
hiring teachers from around the world) suggested we should study
native
medicine, some other ignoramuses confused it with homeopathy. I knew
better. I suggested, with a barely straight face, that I should
apprentice to a Zulu witchdoctor. While those who'd been in-country
longest laughed with hands in front of their mouths at my joke, the
well-meaning ignorant applauded loudly. So, fortified by a fat
scholarship (I bought an Austin-Healey 3000 Mk III *and* made an
entire
feature film called Visitante out of it!), I went off to play polo in
Zululand. The witchdoctor, who got his orders from the royal hut,
gave
me a bye for umpteen credits but a supervisor turned up with an
interpreter for the passing-out tests. Behind my back the witchdoctor
told this guy that he taught me to cast a mean spell (this was a lie
--
I learned from his father many years before) and the supervisor
wanted
a demonstration, so I gave him a painful and irritating rash in a
private place. He was ****ed off, not because of the rash, but
because,
"Jesus Christ, Andre, how the **** can I stand up in front of the
Senate and tell them we should cum you because you gave me pimples on
my balls? They'll laugh both of us out of the room, not least for the
pun." I chuckled dutifully at his joke, shrugged, and went off
ice-skating in Durban a couple of hundred miles away with a girl I
met
casting for my little movie; I knew he would find a way to ensure my
laudes. What he and the doped-up witchdoctor concocted in my absence
was truly horrifying; he because he was ignorant, the witchdoctor
because he inhaled so much marijuana (with which I paid him for my
apprenticeship) that he was careless of the consequences of ****ing
with me. I could do small-scale, personal "witchcraft"; any
accomplished psychologist can give an impressionable a twitch. But
what
these two cooked up as final test nearly killed me by thirst and
starvation. They parked me in front of a derelict hut miles from
anywhere people knew me as a friend of the main men, in the sun. All
I
had to do was use my mind to persuade women, working in fields so
distant that I could barely make them out, to bring me food and
water.
I didn't succeed until the third day... I was in hospital for another
three with sunburn. I wrecked the witchdoctor's career for his
stupidity but let the other guy run; he was just ignorant.

I hate to disappoint you but a witchdoctor doesn't do anything a
psychologist doesn't. He just has some mumbo jumbo for sleight of
hand.
And he uses herbs instead of artificially made chemicals. (The rash
on
the balls of the supervisor was caused by some carefully planted
hints
about his sexual habits and an infusion in his beer; he did it with
his
own mind, helped by "homeopathy"!) And, because he doesn't have a
professional body muttering about behaving professionally, a
witchdoctor gets away with **** which could get a professional
disbarred, like forecasting the future (invariably accurately because
he does it to impressionables who then move heaven and earth to make
his prediction come true). The difference between a witchdoctor and a
good psychologist is not magic but showmanship.

********


Give it up you silly old man. Nobody believes your lies.

  #3  
Old June 7th 09, 04:50 AM posted to rec.bicycles.tech
Andre Jute[_2_]
external usenet poster
 
Posts: 10,422
Default Peter "Hypertension" Howard is a liar and a thief and a falseaccuser

On Jun 7, 4:39*am, "Antitroll" wrote:
"Andre Jute" wrote in message

...

Peter "Hypertension" Howard, under the pseudonym "Antitroll", has
repeatedly under the headline "Andre Jute Great Lie From The Past -
June 7" claimed that the text below is a lie. Howard does this because
he is worthless and talentless and tries to attract attention to
himself by assaulting his betters. So let's give the poor tenthrate
puddingpull the attention he craves.


Yo, Howard, you wretched little man. You claim the text isn't true, so
why don't you prove it isn't true? This is your big chance.


By the way, you're a thief as well as a false accuser. That is my
copyright text below and I didn't give you permission to use it.


Andre Jute
Laughing already at the little man's antics


Confronted with a demand for proof, Peter "Hypertension" Howard weakly
came up only with:

Give it up you silly old man. Nobody believes your lies.


You're the one who claims text below is a lie, you coward, Howard. Now
prove that it isn't true, you lying little slimeball. We're waiting.
-- Andre Jute

THE TEXT IN FULL


******
I had connections to the Zulu, for instance I had gone through their
manhood rites. I'm a blood brother of several of their current
leaders.
So, when some British eejit (South Africans were never insular; my
university, the birthplace of apartheid, had an official policy of
hiring teachers from around the world) suggested we should study
native
medicine, some other ignoramuses confused it with homeopathy. I knew
better. I suggested, with a barely straight face, that I should
apprentice to a Zulu witchdoctor. While those who'd been in-country
longest laughed with hands in front of their mouths at my joke, the
well-meaning ignorant applauded loudly. So, fortified by a fat
scholarship (I bought an Austin-Healey 3000 Mk III *and* made an
entire
feature film called Visitante out of it!), I went off to play polo in
Zululand. The witchdoctor, who got his orders from the royal hut,
gave
me a bye for umpteen credits but a supervisor turned up with an
interpreter for the passing-out tests. Behind my back the witchdoctor
told this guy that he taught me to cast a mean spell (this was a lie
--
I learned from his father many years before) and the supervisor
wanted
a demonstration, so I gave him a painful and irritating rash in a
private place. He was ****ed off, not because of the rash, but
because,
"Jesus Christ, Andre, how the **** can I stand up in front of the
Senate and tell them we should cum you because you gave me pimples on
my balls? They'll laugh both of us out of the room, not least for the
pun." I chuckled dutifully at his joke, shrugged, and went off
ice-skating in Durban a couple of hundred miles away with a girl I
met
casting for my little movie; I knew he would find a way to ensure my
laudes. What he and the doped-up witchdoctor concocted in my absence
was truly horrifying; he because he was ignorant, the witchdoctor
because he inhaled so much marijuana (with which I paid him for my
apprenticeship) that he was careless of the consequences of ****ing
with me. I could do small-scale, personal "witchcraft"; any
accomplished psychologist can give an impressionable a twitch. But
what
these two cooked up as final test nearly killed me by thirst and
starvation. They parked me in front of a derelict hut miles from
anywhere people knew me as a friend of the main men, in the sun. All
I
had to do was use my mind to persuade women, working in fields so
distant that I could barely make them out, to bring me food and
water.
I didn't succeed until the third day... I was in hospital for another
three with sunburn. I wrecked the witchdoctor's career for his
stupidity but let the other guy run; he was just ignorant.


I hate to disappoint you but a witchdoctor doesn't do anything a
psychologist doesn't. He just has some mumbo jumbo for sleight of
hand.
And he uses herbs instead of artificially made chemicals. (The rash
on
the balls of the supervisor was caused by some carefully planted
hints
about his sexual habits and an infusion in his beer; he did it with
his
own mind, helped by "homeopathy"!) And, because he doesn't have a
professional body muttering about behaving professionally, a
witchdoctor gets away with **** which could get a professional
disbarred, like forecasting the future (invariably accurately because
he does it to impressionables who then move heaven and earth to make
his prediction come true). The difference between a witchdoctor and a
good psychologist is not magic but showmanship.


********


Give it up you silly old man. Nobody believes your lies.


 




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