You know, I was beginning to think I wasn’t pissing people off anymore, thank goodness I got an email from firstname.lastname@example.org.
”Your Fuck Buddy
“Hey Lothar!! FUCK YOU. fuck you, you cocksucking, mother fucking, ass-sniffing, child-porn watching, chicken fucking retard. fuck you up the ass. You are a shit-eating, child fucking, ass licking, fucknut idiot. Go fuck yourself up the ass with your finger. Fuck you dumbshit.
your fuck buddy
Lothar Hex looks at child porn.”
Apparently the other EN crew members got similar emails. I replied with this, admittedly not very original or witty email, though it did seem appropriate:
“Well well, looks like someone lost their favourite toy rattle.”
To which he replies:
“I AM VICTORIOUS!!
Well, i sent you that e-mail to find out your real name, and i think it worked. So, fuck you “Garry Webber”.
I know Lothar’s real name…”
So this guy’s “master plan”, if you will, was to find out my real name by making me reply to an email. This puts his intelligence somewhere up there with most 80′s cartoon villains. You know, the ones whose plans usually consisted of “lead heroes into cave, make rubble fall over cave mouth, go home” or my personal favourite “build a big gun with a range of about 100 metres on top of a hill, rule world.”
Now, I must confess I am perplexed as to why he wanted to know my real name. Perhaps it was the final words in a secret incantation to bring about the great God “Jimmy Destroyer of Hats” or perhaps he suspects the truth, that I am actually a pans-dimensional being from the future that spends his free time travelling and teleporting to various places around the world for my own amusement.
No, seriously, do a Google search for “Garry Webber” and see how many things come up; look I’ll show you what I’ve been up to.
I was part of the Valcour Sailing Clubs 1977 Cruise to Whitehall race, on my boat the Galadriel, which was named after my dog of the same name. I didn’t win because I kept giving orders in a pirate voice, forgetting I was the only one on board.
I won a 35 year service award from Northlands Park. I don’t know what I was doing for those 35 years but it must have been good to win an award. Unless it was for 35 years of shitting in the woods because I couldn’t find a bloody toilet.
In my spare time when I’m not crashing boats into rocks and defecating in public parks, I take wedding photographs. It’s quite fun, as you get a load of free food and booze and all you have to do is make sure you don’t get so drunk that you try to shag the brides mother, which is harder than you might think. Also, see how I cunningly (cunnigulus) took the 2nd “b” out of my last name to avoid suspicion!
I’m the Branch Manger of the Wadeville win of International Trucks. It’s not an especially exciting job, that is until we dress in leather, then drive our trucks across Australia in a vein attempt to recreate the “Mad Max” films. Commemorating a time when Mel Gibson wasn’t a complete and utter twat.
I’m also a fully fledged lawyer! Again, note how I took the 2nd “r” out of my first name this time to avoid suspicion! My cunning plans are without equal! Mostly I give advice out to my clients and it’s usually along the lines of “You got caught committing burglary again? And you need some advice? Here’s some advice, STOP BREAKING INTO PEOPLE’S HOUSES YOU FUCKTARD!” Then I go out a punch a tree, just because.
I was also a pallbearer, a chef, and quite possibly, though I’m not too sure how this happened, a member of the Whale Trust. Well I’m actually a “friend” of the Whale Trust, but I don’t know how they figured that. You don’t eat tuna and suddenly you’re labelled a dolphin lover.
And after all that, I get this little nugget of wisdom.
“Not your first name. FUCK YOU GARRY WEBBER!!!!
who the hell spells “Gary” with two r’s? that’s just fucking retarted.”
Not my first name what? To answer your second question, do a Google search and you’ll see not many people spell “Gary” with two R’s, but many people do have the name “Garry”.
And he calls me retarded, I wonder if he knows what irony is? Though considering he also sent along a picture of Lothar dressed as girl, proclaiming that my girlfriend says that “queer is best” I have to say he definitely doesn’t know what irony is.