The Others

I have been debating with myself since the inception of this blog whether to write today's entry or not. This blog is, of course, dedicated to the insulting of David Levin, but what about the other Davids whose wretchedness are equally as noteworthy? Well, perhaps equally is an impossible term to use in this matter. I mean, how could anyone be AS horrible a person as David Levin? but then, when I consider the other noteworthy Davids, well, it's like trying to pick out the worst maggot. Or perhaps the worst maggot excrement. I would hate to insult maggots like that. After all, they can't help it.

So, after a long and drawn out self-debate, and while I'm killing time waiting for something MUCH better to come along, I have decided to dedicate today's blog entry to The Other Davids.

First and foremost comes David Choquette. It is a relief to me knowing that this particular Other David lives in the woods, far away from polite society. However, knowing that he is working with young and impressionable children (who are already slightly disturbed from my understanding) fills me with dread. What terrors haunt these children's dreams when they are forced to be around such a terrible person (for lack of more accurate term) day in and day out? I pity these poor, defenseless young ones. You may be asking yourself, dear reader, what is it that makes David Choquette so bad? Is he that mean of a person? No, it is not meanness that makes David Choquette a terror, it is his face! That's right, his face! To look on David Choquette's face is to despair. The Greek myth of Medusa is actually based on David Choquette's face. He is so ugly that his ugliness resonated back several thousand years to the ancient Greeks, whose children woke up screaming in the middle of the night, crying out about their nightmares of the horrible faced monster who could turn you to stone with one look... if you were lucky. If you were to collect all the vomit that is vomited in Carowinds and Kings Dominion both in one year, and compress all that nastiness down into a 1 inch by 1 inch square, the nastiness of that 1 inch by 1 inch square would only be a tenth of the nastiness of the nicest 1 inch by 1 inch square of David Choquette's face.

My next Other David is David Blanchard. Ah, David Blanchard, I have gone so long without the chance to insult you, mainly, I'm convinced, because you hate me and avoid me at all costs. While I cannot blame you for that, I also cannot go any longer without insulting you. David Blanchard, your smell is so rancid that I can tell at any given moment what direction you are in in relation to where I am and roughly how far away you are based solely on the stench that fills the earth's atmosphere. If given the choice between having to live within 50 miles of David Blanchard and building my house out of trash found at the landfill, I would not hesitate to live in the trash house. The smell would be far more bearable. The only thing that even comes close to the odor of David Blanchard, is, well... nothing. Nothing in Heaven, Earth, or even Hell for that matter can possibly smell that bad.

That is all that I can stand to write about the Other Davids. I know there are more Other Davids out there (Nathaniel, we all know your first name is David), but everytime I begin to think of all of these Davids (including the original David Levin) I begin to feel naseuos. I cannot continue thinking about all of these Davids without risking becoming suicidal. So, until next time, I encourage all my readers out there (I know there's at least two of you)- if you see a David, slap him, then quickly wash your hand to keep it from burning off.