[EDITOR'S NOTE:  The WWSD offices were buglarized on October 25, 2004. No staff members were hurt.  Sutekh was out walking Lola at the time, Joe was moonlighting at his day job, Dave was packed safely in his vacuum sealed can, and Phyllis was doing Hollywood Squares.  If you don't know who these people are, tough.  I don't have time to make links right now.  Sutekh wanted to say a few words (OK, a lot of words) as an open letter to the asshole that robbed us.  Enjoy!  Oh!  You can still access the site archive here.]

November 1, 2004

Hey all, Sutekh here.  I just wanted to say a few words to the malcontent plebian that decided to float through our transom and relieve us of several important items.  OK, no, you didn't float...you had to ruin our back threshold and nearly knock all the plaster off the walls in doing so, but you gained entry nonetheless.

You stole several items of import.  Mainly, you got the backbone of the WWSD web publishing department — our Apple Macintosh G4 Powerbook.  Oh, you are a crafty one.  But what you don't realize is that Apple will be releasing a new operating system in mere months!  Have fun using the previous operating system while we here at WWSD are using the newer software with glee!  Yes, we will be giggling!  Hey, maybe I can find an old DOS box for you next time!  I think we have an old Amiga case that Lola uses as a litterbox, too.  Or perhaps a dusty tower with some 0.98 kernel Slackware Linux?  Tell you what.  I'll even leave the PC out on the porch and you can have it for the technology museum you are apparently constructing!  HA!  Ass!

And let's talk about some of the other items...  You got the Nintendo GameCube, but left the power and video cables!  What, are you fucking Starman?  Going to play the games in your head by holding the 'cube up to your ear?  Fool!  Dear me, you also took a lighter...a LIGHTER!  That was Lola's, but what you cannot have known is that Lola recently gave up smoking!  That's right, the vet said no more menthols.  Let's not forget the devastating loss of a fine pair of walkie talkies.  Hey, Joe!  Yeah, bring me some more bourbon!  What's that?  You can hear me and are obeying my command?  Well, what do you know, we can replace those walkie talkies with simple YELLING!  You, Mr. Burglar, are a jackanapes.  In fact, I shall call you "Jack" from this point forward.  Jack-ass!  Get it?  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Goodness me, what next...  Oh, nice job taking the pocket watch that had no battery in it, Jack!  I had it opened up and lying on the table because I was bringing batteries home for it.  I got back with the batteries, but found the watch stolen.  You want them?  Keep in mind that the Energizer 376 that was in there has been discontinued — you will need the 377.  Oh, wait, you are an illiterate piece of steaming turd that wouldn't even know how to change a watch battery.  Have fun with it!  At least it will be right twice a day...you know, in case you ever get a job and actually need the ability to tell time.  Can you even read an analog device?  Didn't think so, Jack.  Shithead.

I have a little story for you.  I once knew a dirty sailor from Liverpool named Dick. This fellow was a scourge on humanity.  All he knew how to do was chug cock and contract dysentery. No, Jack, I am not comparing you to Dick, so just hear me out.  Anyway, Dick had a problem with using the toilet facilities on the ships he traveled on, so by the time he got back to dock, he had a very nice load of dung to evacuate from his bowels.  The dysentery made sure it came out nice and gooey.  Hold on, Jack.  I am not going to equate you to fecal matter.  ANYWAY, one time Dick delivered a load so voluminous and foul that it filled the toilet bowl outright and covered the stall floor up to Dick's ankles.  The disgusting bastard didn't care a lick, and strolled out as if nothing had happened.  The poor cleaning woman had to spend the entire day cleaning up Dick's awful offal.  When she finished, she deposited the diarrhea in a dumpster out back.  A mangy sewer rat ran through the mess, covering himself in excrement.  That very same rat later ate his fill of poison...a lethal dose that resulted in him expiring in a puddle of urine, covered in his own vomit, blood, and Dick's repugnant waste.  That's what you are, Jack.  A dead rat soaked in every vile liquid known to human kind, mainly the putrid, disease-ridden, brown ordure streamed forth from Dick's chapped, distended rectum.  You suck.

Lola just made a valid point, one I already pointed out myself.  She said that if you are, in fact, illiterate, how will you read this missive?  No matter.  Even if you don't read this, I still consider it a rallying cry for my staff and readers!  Oh, you aren't impressed?  Then consider this:  even though my staff loathes me and has tried to kill me six times in as many days, they are loyal to me.  They shall persevere and overcome!  Additionally, the readership for WWSD has recently spiked to a community of seventeen members strong.  That's right!  SEVENTEEN!  WWSD will be returning in 2005 stronger, funnier, and more offensive than ever!  That is a promise, Jack!

There is an obvious question you should be asking yourself right now, Jack.  What Would Sutekh Do?  Sutekh would marshall his friends, powers, and resources into a finely-honed dagger of death and destruction pointed squarely at your infant-sized nutsack.

And that is exactly what I am going to do.  Have a nice day, Fuckhead.