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Don't Be a Sharecropper
An anonymous reader writes "Tim Bray, best known as an XML Heavy, has an
entertaining rant about why you should be developing for *n*x, OSS, or (especially) the Web. Because if you're on a proprietary platform, you're a "sharecropper"."
Because I am an entirely too entertaining creature, my balls are so big, and you linux fags are really pissing me off!
third post. guessing, and hoping anyway. first post is overrated.
FP?
true story
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Oh yessum sirry, ma name be Toby massa Gates.
YFI?
Are you SOVIET?
Are you RUSSIA?
Are you a SOVIET RUSSIA?
If so then you are one of the few selected to be part of a joke. Imagine a beowuf cluster of crappy slashdot articles...
In SOVIET RUSSIA, croppers share YOU!
Fuck all this useless slashdot article shit...
fuck cmndertaco, fucker should try eating a tamale once in a while you fucking redneck cracker hillbilly hick piece of shit!
"Ugh... UGH!" Chris Pirillo moaned as he squatted over the ThumbDrive. He eyes darted back and forth like a stone man and he sighed gay breaths as he attempted to shove the device filled with the entire line of eBooks into his anus. His geek house trembled with fag vibrations comig from his crack but then- his doorbell rang, whistling the tune from "Matlock" throughout his hovel. "Damn" he howled in a gay sepulchur voice and slipped on a pair of pastel slacks. He trapsed to the threshold of his cold abode and grabbed the greasy doorknob that was shaped like Birdman. With a slavish sigh, he opened the door to see none other than Adam Sessler himself! A gay gasp escaped from Chris's dork lips and Adam began to speak. Quickly, Chris snapped at him. "Damnit for the last time you vagabond, you're not supposed to be here!" The revolting nerd slammed the door in Adam's face, but the Game Master quickly shoved his iron boot inbetween the door and the wall, wedging it open. "I have come for you," he spoke in a cold tone; electric arcs coursed between the spikes in his cockneyed bleached hair. He howled as a blast of mystic Boohbahs eminated from his busy shirt and slammed Chris down the hall and into a Microsoft Digital Picture Frame. Chris grunted and swiped nerd dust and sheetrock from his arms. He rose to his feet and watched in horror as Adam brandished a weapon made from 3 Xbox controllers tied at the ends. "Oh my word! Game periferals!" the dork bellowed; the stench of Cheetos and Diet Dr. Pepper wafted from his geek teeth. Instantly his palms began to sweat at the very sight of them, as if the grease from his McGriddle hadn't slicked them up enough. Chris tried to run, but it was too late. Adam swung the weapon above his head and threw it at the King of Nerds, entangling his legs and forcing him to the floor. Adam pulled a cestus made from PS2 DVDs out of his Spice Girls backpack and rushed Chris. He swiped at his turdly back over and over, causing streams of cold blood to squirt from his flesh. "Oh god, the horror, the HORROR!" Chris moaned as Adam butchered him relentlessly. A old Brit with one eye and a cockneyed accent burst into the room and started kicking Chris in the side. Chris was just about do die when... he rose from his bed. It was just a dream! He laughed and took a sip of more Brawls Guarana, hoping he wouldn't fall asleep again. "Time to plot..." he grumbled and shoved yet another pin into his Leo Laporte voodoo doll.
Add me to the trolling library- http://nero-online.org/troll/
And who will be the preacher standing behind that OSS pulpit? ESR or RMS?
No, he ain't doping, that's just deodorant. It's commonly used in the United States, but very rare in the rest of the world, which is why you didn't recognize it.