I DO recall thinking Scuttlebutt's bottle opener overbite would be perfect for scratching an ankle itch…

Plus, he DOES have a proven track record of fusing his flagging 2-ply face to shoe leather at the drop of a deuce. And, as they say, it's always the last place you look…

Yeah, I know a place where he cuts quite a distinct figure, and it's not just because of the electric neon pink Norman Bates motel sign advertising VACANCY in florescent flickers between his steaming teakettle ears, VERBALSMACKTARD. You ready for it, you frothing fucksmudge?

 UNDER MY BOOT.

Right.

Now, in all the hubbub rising up from your crowded airline capacity colon at the reception of my beautifully masterminded "no game theory" regarding your complete lack of blogging ability, you grime laden grease spot on the information superhighway, I'd almost forgotten the original question. Who's going to win this pivotal match up to determine the fate of the blogging UNIVERSE?

...but you're so dense that you believe the tingling sensation in your floppy funhole is your ass falling asleep, and not the liberal application of BenGay to your snausage digits as you engage in a frantic thumbwar with your nosebone pierced sphincter, you infinitely stupid dip stick. So let me just field this final jeopardy question for you, shit truffle.

YOU ARE THE PROPERTY OF TROLL TRACKERS

But don't fret, you steamrollered flat skid mark, here's a consolation prize for being such a willing heavy bag.

_TT

Now make like Stud and gtfo

- Bob Dylan

In these uncertain times, isn't it reassuring to know that some things will always stay the same? Take lunatic bloggers as an example of things that never change; and as an example of lunatic bloggers, take Scuttlebutt.

No matter how confused you are by the complexity of events, you can always depend on the clarity of Verbal Graffiti's penetrating analysis to discombobulate your understanding into a jumble of perplexity. In this age of doubt, you can be certain that RAN_OUT_OF_NAMES really is every atomic iota as confused by this world as he appears to be. Yes, while you can't decide if other bloggers are on the verge of insanity or at the epicenter of it, you know for certain that Scuttlebutt is the epicenter.

As an investigative reporter, he is a simpleton, confounded by events beyond his understanding. Yet there is bravery - even a touch of greatness - in his stumblebum perseverance to uncover the hidden truth. He is the little guy against the system, who strives to see justice done irrespective of the personal consequences. On another level, he is the tragi-comic figure of the vainglorious emos: pitifully inept, and hopelessly unaware of his fundamental flaws. On yet another level, he is the blogger who never gets bored offering his rump as a portable boot-buffer to all and sundry in Blogdom. Oh, so many levels...

And - you know what? - he even has a mental illness named after him.

We will briefly examine the group of symptoms that collectively characterize this psychological disorder in future commentary.