I looked out over the Story Forum, that desolate board, bored and desolate for lack of comics, and beheld no threads would grow there. I thought to cultivate this board with verse, with threads flowing with filk and funny. I looked again over the August forum, and said, 'Alas, and wae is mee O! Spammer of spammers, and all threads are trollbait and a vexation of admins. What hath a fan more of all the colour that he CG into the strip? One thread droppeth down the page and another thread riseth, but the home page abideth forever.'

I looked at what I had written above, and saw that it too is but trollbait and a vexation of admins. So, to stay on a topic proper to this board, and fall not into spam, I journeyed to Edo, that Mega city, and asked of the officer they call Sonoda, to ask whether the sun had set upon our forum.

'Thou speakest rightly,' he said to me, 'that all is trollbait and a vexation of admins. Yet concerning whether the appointed time for thy forum hath come, consider carefully these things I have observed when I looked out over Edo, this Mega city.

'There is a timetable for all disasters, and a schedule for every cataclysm under heaven.

A time for riots and a time for control.
A time for mahou shoujo and a time for mechas.
A time for zombies and a time for 'zillas.
A time for deconstruction and a time for reconstruction.
A time for threatening suitors and a time for accepting suitors.
A time for fame and a time for obscurity.
A time for updating, and a time for delaying.
A time for drawing with photoshop, and a time for drawing by hand.
A time for the summer influx, and a time for the influx to fade away.
What hath a man more of all the timetables that he filleth under the desk lamp? I have seen permits given and permits violated, yet all is trollbait and a vexation of admins.'

Indeed, I saw what this man said, and proclaimed him wise. Yet, is this all thou hast given unto us, O Lain of the Wired? Art though pleased, O Queen Ping, to suffer your fans to fade after a newer comic? Where hast thou hidden thy heroes, thy Pantheon?

I went, then, to that ninja, Junpei, that first disciple, for his lessons of l33t. He invited me into a room, plain except for two banners, reading 遊 and 義.He then brought to me a Pong console, and said but one word, 'Play'. For seven days and seven nights I played, until despairing I cried 'Zetsuboushita! What is thy plan, teacher? This game hath but one sound, and scarce any thing else. What can it teach me? Speak, teacher, I beg of thee!'

He invited me then to sit, and we both of us sat, and after some moments he spake.
'L33t that can be spoken not true l33t.
Game that can be finished not true game.
When player score make three digit, score reset to zero. Player lost? No. Is player with high score superior player? No. Zero score is invitation, invitation to play more. Superior player is player who striveth ever to goal. Old game hath no goal. Why play? For game own sake. Bard say, "All is trollbait and vexation of admin." Junpei say, go play. L33t Way grew from paddle and square ball. Forum grow from game comic. Post, and forum grow.'

~~~~

Yeah, I dunno. I felt the need to post something, since this forum's so dead lately. Originally I thought to give a bunch of short anecdotes mimicing famous works of wisdom like the Tao te Ching and Analects of Confucius, but then decided a more narrative mode would work better.
The forum's quiet, dark and deep,
but I have many tweets to peep
and forum posts to make before I sleep. . .

---------------------

The artist at a lonesome desk
Doth draw in fear and dread,
And having once turned round draws on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he fears a rightful wrath
in the discussion thread.

----------------------

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And updated story comic shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the tale,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that shares his posts with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That wrote with us on MegaTokyo.
He was just a rookie poster and he surely shook with fright. He checked off his spelling and made sure his font was tight; He had to sit and listen to those awful forums roar, "You ain't gonna post no more!"

"Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. He ain't gonna post no more!"

'Is everybody happy?' cried the Moderator looking up, Our Hero feebly answered 'Yes,' and then they stood him up; He jumped into the fiery blast, his static line unhooked, And he ain't gonna post no more.

"Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. He ain't gonna post no more!"

"He counted long, he counted loud, he waited for the shock. He felt the wind, he felt the heat, he felt the awful drop. The debate spilled out and wrapped around his legs. And he ain't gonna post no more."

"Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. He ain't gonna post no more!"

"The arguements swung around his neck, facts cracked his dome. Reasons were tied in knots around his skinny bones. The discussion became his shroud; he hurtled to the ground. And he ain't gonna post no more."

"Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. He ain't gonna post no more!"

"The crowd was on the spot, the forumites were running wild. The trolls jumped and screamed with glee, rolled up their sleeves and smiled. For it had been a week or more since last a thread had failed. And he ain't gonna post no more."

"Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. He ain't gonna post no more!"

"He hit the ground, the sound was "Splat," his blood went spurting high. His comrades then were heard to say: 'A helluva way to die!' He lay there rolling round in the welter of his gore. And he ain't gonna post no more."

"Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. Gory, glory, what a helluva way to die. He ain't gonna jump no more!"

"There was blood upon the avatar, there were brains upon the signature. Intestines were a'dangling from his forumite suit. He was a mess; they picked him up, and poured him from his boots. And he ain't gonna post no more."

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