Fergie, Duchess of Sssssssmokin', Combat Writing, and The Old Days

So Fergie has stepped in it again, this time selling access to the Royals. Eh. Who cares?

Look, here's the thing: She was bred and educated from her earliest days for the sole purpose of marrying some pasty, worthless, upper-crust Euro-twit and banging out a clot of fuck trophies (or "Princes" as they're referred to in more tony society) in order to allow them to continue to inflict their thinning and increasingly parasitic bloodline on the Brits.

That was her job, and the contract with that freakshow family was that if she managed it, she'd never for a moment be expected to be out hustling in order to raise a buck to live on. But once she and Andrew split the sheets, the Brits abandoned their promise and left her, vulnerable as a hothouse flower on a frozen, rocky mountain, to fend for herself in an evil world in which her curious, generationally inbred specialty was of NO use whatsoever. It's a wonder she survived at all (cf. Diana, who got herself killed hustling Arabs after SHE got dumped.)

Think about it. She's never received a lick of training in how to do anything else, and certainly nothing useful or marketable, so give her a friggin' break. It ain't like she was selling access to anything of value. Anyone willing to pay money to meet a Brit Royal needs to have it taken away from them anyway, so, no harm, no foul.

Besides, of all the Royals (or semi-Royals, or whatever she is,) she's the only one I'd party with, and, even with all their princely military training and bodyguards and whatnot, absolutely the only one I'd trust at my back in a bar fight.

The woman is freakin' HARD-core, a lusty-hot redhead with some meat on her, and she looks like she could spend the night firing back tequila shooters and telling dirty jokes, followed up with a till-sunrise session of smokin'-hot, near-crippling sex.

And I'm sure she's a fine conversationalist, too.

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TOTALLY UNRELATED:
--------------------------------Now, as it happens, I recalled that I've had occasion to leap to her defense at some time in the past. She tends to make it up as she goes along since being hosed by the Brits, and is therefore usually involved in something for which she needs defended.

I'll always sign up for that.

Anyhow, I believed it was on UseNet - so I went to the archives trying to find what I'd said. Couldn't find it. Searches using all sorts of keywords and search engine magic got me nowhere.

But what it DID do was bring to the surface a bunch of old UseNet records and combat prose from the old days. "Combat Prose," for those of you who don't remember/never were part of UseNet, is the written equivalent of an unsanctioned UFC cage match, sans cage, in which you could use whatever weapons you bring with you or happen upon during the brawl to break your opponent and grind him/her down into a bleeding lump of exposed nerve endings. You win when you get your opponent into such a frothing fury that he totally loses control, and/or threatens you and/or (best of all) "flounces" out of the group, vowing never to return.

It's a "specialty" sport - and I, unlike some of my peers, never played with non-combatants, although I would frequently troll for new meat. They had to be part of the "game" or I pretty much left them alone.

UseNet Troll - Me In A Former Life

At any rate, I got to reading stuff from years and years ago. Have you ever written things that, on re-reading MUCH later, you can barely recall writing? UseNet is chock full o' memories like that. And what did I discover, shoveling through the enormous pile of brawling text? That I was a ruthless, vicious, absolutely amoral asshole back in those days.

And DAMNED funny, too.

I finally left UseNet because I was bored - the children there were too easy a target, and the population of no-talent dickheads had swamped out anyone worth screwing with, and, most of all, because I was getting soft, less willing to inflict that final, fatal, eviscerating blow when some hapless opponent left themselves exposed. Ah, well. Us nice guys are just like that, I guess.

Jeez, I almost missed it there for a minute.

In Our Next Episode: I list all my readers who used to be vicious, blood-smeared, combat-lust freaks on UseNet unless they start sending checks. (Kidding. I'd never give y'all up. Probably.)