Difference between revisions of "Walt Whitman"
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| − | [[ | + | '''Walt Whitman''' was an awful [[User:Ed Poor|child molester]] who was born in ancient [[Hong Kong]]. He is over 3000 years old and remembers the names of all the forgotten [[God]]s. |
| − | + | Walt Whitman is 90 stories tall, and his adventures are legendary. With his blue ox, [[Emily Dickinson]], Walt Whitman traveled across young [[America]] and helped the nation grow into the angry powerhouse it is today. He dropped his mighty [[axe]], forming the [[Grand Canyon]]; the [[apple]] cores he would spit from his mighty mouth planted apple trees all across the country; and the stomp of his mighty [[boot]] caused the [[stock market]] to crash. He and his friend, [[Huck Finn]], traveled down the [[Mississippi River|Mississippi]] and freed the [[slavery|slaves]]. Walt Whitman believed that [[fire drill|the only good Chinaman was a dead Chinaman]], so he went to [[Tiananmen Square]] and gave them all [[candy]]. Except instead of [[candy]] he [[massacre|killed them]]. | |
| − | His | + | Walt Whitman might seem like a real cool guy, but in reality he's a whiny-ass [[cat|pussy]]. His [[Livejournal]], which he doesn't think anyone knows about, is full of whiny [[goth]] [[poetry]]. His Current [[Mood]] is always "[[Apathy|Apathetic]]" and his music is always some obscure punk band that no one has ever heard of. Some people who pretended to be his friends so they could get access to his "friends only" posts grabbed some of the poetry and made a [[book]] from them, and called it "[[Ode]] to [[Sex with animals|Faggotry]]." When they found out other [[goth]] kids would actually read it, they changed the name to "[[Beauty|Leaves]] of [[Grass]]" and it sold like [[cat|gothcakes]]. Walt Whitman to this day doesn't know they're selling his [[poem]]s and making a [[fortune]] off him. They still don't invite him to any [[party|parties]] though, because [[User:Conservative|no one likes him]]. |
| − | Whitman died | + | Walt Whitman [[death|died]] a [[User:Karajou|lonely man]] in [[Walt Disney Land]]. He was on the [[gondola]] ride, and he fell out because he wasn't fastened properly to the [[restraint]]. Thanks to his dumb ass, now none of us can ride it anymore. Thanks a lot, Walt Whitman. |
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Revision as of 17:04, June 9, 2009
Walt Whitman was an awful child molester who was born in ancient Hong Kong. He is over 3000 years old and remembers the names of all the forgotten Gods.
Walt Whitman is 90 stories tall, and his adventures are legendary. With his blue ox, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman traveled across young America and helped the nation grow into the angry powerhouse it is today. He dropped his mighty axe, forming the Grand Canyon; the apple cores he would spit from his mighty mouth planted apple trees all across the country; and the stomp of his mighty boot caused the stock market to crash. He and his friend, Huck Finn, traveled down the Mississippi and freed the slaves. Walt Whitman believed that the only good Chinaman was a dead Chinaman, so he went to Tiananmen Square and gave them all candy. Except instead of candy he killed them.
Walt Whitman might seem like a real cool guy, but in reality he's a whiny-ass pussy. His Livejournal, which he doesn't think anyone knows about, is full of whiny goth poetry. His Current Mood is always "Apathetic" and his music is always some obscure punk band that no one has ever heard of. Some people who pretended to be his friends so they could get access to his "friends only" posts grabbed some of the poetry and made a book from them, and called it "Ode to Faggotry." When they found out other goth kids would actually read it, they changed the name to "Leaves of Grass" and it sold like gothcakes. Walt Whitman to this day doesn't know they're selling his poems and making a fortune off him. They still don't invite him to any parties though, because no one likes him.
Walt Whitman died a lonely man in Walt Disney Land. He was on the gondola ride, and he fell out because he wasn't fastened properly to the restraint. Thanks to his dumb ass, now none of us can ride it anymore. Thanks a lot, Walt Whitman.