|This person has Assburgers Syndrome, |
so you can't say anything bad! :-(
Be aware of that, you insensitive fuck.
—Merle Whitefire, as he/she capitulates to Anonymous.
MerleWhitefire (alias: MerleCorey or Duelistfiend or AgentWhitt) is an 18 year old (biological) male feminazi/furry/gender-confused devianTARTlet from Cleveland, Ohio who suffers from one of the most advanced cases of internet addiction ever documented by medical science. He/she originally came to the attention of Anonymous through vociferous rants posted on his/her Eljay after the Girl-Wonder forums were phished by Anonymous and completely and thoroughly ravaged.
Naturally, this internet hissy-fit drew the attention of lulz hunters from across the world. His/her response to the phalanx of trolls that descended upon his/her LJ was to log and post all IP addresses of everyone who posted. Like a good lolcow his/her actions merely fed the raiders, who responded by appending their IP address to the end of each post. After a report to LJ's administrators for MerleWhitefire's TOTALLY abusive actions, the offending journal entry was BALEETED from the interwebs. To save face with the feminists he/she was indoctrinated to lust after, he/she claimed to delete the entry him/herself. Anonymous knows different.
Thanks to his/her homeschooling (public school was a shithole man, of course it's easier to get by in real school by when you're not failing your classes) upbringing by a rabidly liberal and radically feminist mother (who is an unemployed prostitute, can't make this shit up), MerleWhitefire has naturally developed a healthy and balanced personality, outlook and behavior that in no way has him/her spending an obsessive and harmful number of hours on the internet.
Certainly, MerleWhitefire would never spend all of his/her valuable time crawling through devianTART accounts looking for images of anthropomorphised pokemon children. He/she would be aghast at the idea of writing terrible Star Wars and V for Vendetta fan fiction. This fine, upstanding gentleman/lady wouldn't be caught dead with over 9000 accounts on various internet communities. Never!
And he/she is certainly internet savvy enough to know how the series of tubes works, right?
—Merle Whitefire, wondering how we found the blog linked in his/her profile
A Cynical Geek, An Internet Veteran
Self-proclaimed "cynical geek" Merle Whitefire obviously spends a great deal of time on the Internets. Where else would geeks reside? Besides their mothers' basements, that is. Clearly, such a connoisseur of the internet would have quite profound and enlightening things to say, right?
Well... When he/she isn't recycling his/her political outlooks from the internet echo-chamber, he/she is posting intelligent things elsewhere, right?
Let's check another blog...
—Merle Whitefire, thinking a game from Harry Potter is real.
—Ms. Merle, stealing memes.
This could go on for pages, Ms. Merle has quite the large internet presence, including a creepy as fuck DA account (check the favorites, jesus christ), a whiney political blog, a crybaby LJ, a YTMND account where he/she uses punctuation and grammar to criticize shit, Quizilla, Wikipedia/Uncyclopedia, and every comic, sci-fi, fan-fic, roleplaying and weeaboo forum he/she can find. Also a WoW character.
Naturally, someone as old and wizened as Ms. Merle has absolutely no pretense for being so pervasive on the internet. He/she just enjoys surfing. Right? Let's check one of his/her Eljay personality quizzes to see what he/she has to say about his/her outlook...
Experts on the internet and prominent doctorologists have convened to discuss Ms. Merle and all his/her complexities. The current popular diagnosis is a terminal case of Ass-burgers with a side of colesLOL and french cries. The outlook is grim, but with several sessions in a hugbox Ms. Merle may be cured of his/her social phobia and internet disease. But only if he/she grows a pair and moves out of his/her mother's basement and gets a life.
The Greatest Writer of Our Time
The only hurdle in the way of his/her future success will be deciding how much of a Mary Sue he/she needs to make his/her strong, empowered, hyper-capable, charming, generous and powerful pilot/smuggler/jedi/soldier/general female protagonist. Let's take a look at some of the excerpts from his/her work:
01: Morning Person
“Hey, Atton! Wake up!”
“Something up?” He stretched and glared at her.
“You know you have the secondary power controls imprinted on your cheek, right?”
“Mira… what… what did you want?”
“You fell asleep at the wheel.”
“Ship’s on autopilot. Space off.” He let his head fall back to the console.
“I’m saying we’re there.” She was clearly enjoying this far too much.
“There will be vengeance…”
“Veneance is not the Jedi way.”
“No, you’re right. Sleep is the Jedi way.”
“You’ve been out for seven standard hours. Come on.” She grasped him under the arms and hoisted him bodily from the seat. He swayed ominously, shook his head, and glared at her.
“You know, where I come from people get ten hours. You might have heard of it, it’s called the Galactic Republic?”
“Funny. Come on, get this on.” She thrust a Jedi robe at his chest.
“What? What’s wrong with my jacket?”
“You look like a thug in that jacket. It’s not a look that says ‘Trust me with your children.’ While we’re on the subject, I know bathing is against your religion and all, but could you at least apply some steel wool every now and then?”
“So much for the Jedi Way.” He shot back.
“Honesty is the Jedi Way. I can not, in good conscience, let you wear your robes over that jacket. It doesn’t work. Off with the jacket.”
“When did you get to be such an old scow?”
“When the last one betrayed us and tried to kill our leader. Bao-Dur is waiting.”
“Let him wait. That’s what he does.”
“For her, maybe. Not you. If I have to dress you myself, I will not be happy.”
“This is why she left Mical in charge. This, right here.”
“Fine, fine…” He tossed his jacket over the side of a chair and replaced his robe. “Happy?”
“I’m never happy, just mildly amused.”
“Obviously. Next time I’m sealing off the cockpit.”
“I’ll just cut it open. I have a lightsaber too, you know.”
“Right, right. Can I at least get some juma juice first?”
“No. Your natural aroma is bad enough. The last thing we need is you putting somebody in a kolto tank with your breath.”
“Why didn’t we just space you?”
“You needed my help.”
An out of context lump of dialog by,
Derevaun Seraun Earl of Donegal 15-6-3428 C.E.
It’s a funny story, how I met her.
I’ll never know why she picked me. I think all the other captains shied away from me- too loud, too cynical, and never serious. Nobody wants somebody like that on their ship; they want somebody steadfast and loyal.
So I guess it was just lucky that I happened to find the one captain who didn’t love her country.
She picked me because I was funny and didn’t cow before authority.
Or that’s what I tell myself, anyway. Maybe she just felt sorry for me.
But I’ve seen her. She doesn’t trust anybody, no matter how much she pities them… yet she trusts me with her massive- and illegal- bank account.
She never gives anybody power, yet she pulled strings to give me security clearance and let me command the ship in her absence.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe she just trusts me as her first officer…
But she fought for me. She nearly lost an arm for me.
Maybe I’m wrong, but I think maybe, just maybe, I was meant to find her for reasons beyond her idealistic little scheme.
But here’s the thing… she doesn’t need me. She never did, it’s obvious. She can command the ship herself. She’s a far more capable strategist, warrior, and agent than I am, and since the only resource I have is a title that’s been defunct for six centuries, I doubt she brought me along for my political clout.
So if she doesn’t need me here, why does she want me here?
Well… I’d like to sit and think about this all day, but that gets me nowhere.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk to her.
Oh, who am I kidding? If we ever become anything, it’ll be because of her.
But it’s still a comfort to note that above the highest performing agent in the entire academy, she picked me, the one who always stood at attention like a cartoon character.
Anyway… now that I think about it, I guess it’s not that funny unless you were there. I’ll write again after the mission.
Merle Whitefire fantasizes about serving under Officer Mary Sue.
What else can one say? With the lack of context, overuse of dialog and internal voice, thinly veiled self-insertion, obvious wish-fulfillment, clumsy use of simile and metaphor, poor pacing and lack of accessibility, what can one say?
Well, Ms. Merle has a few words, on his/her behalf:
—Merle Whitefire, lacking introspection, full of unintentional irony.
—He/she really doesn't understand irony.
—Merle Whitefire, in denial.
Though it is quite unintuitive to assume a boy raised by a radical, domineering hyper-feminist mother would ever have gender issues, Ms. Merle seems to be a bit confused about what parts he/she would like to have down between his/her legs.
Most scientists speculate that Merle's gender-identity confusion stems from the period of time in his early childhood, where his/her mother refused to let him/her attend public school, and continually beat his/her dick with a bamboo reed as punishment for being born a man. A fringe group of psychologists believe his/her gender confusion instead derives from his latent pedophilia, as referenced by his/her attraction to pictures of pokemon anthropomorphized into little boys, they theorize that Merle is still sane enough to realize how reprehensible his/her pedophilia is, and thus hates his/her penis, which he/she sees as the embodiment of his/her depravity.
Return of Merle
Despite BALEETING all his entries out of shame and reverting to friends-only for a short time, Ms. Merle has returned to its ell-jay.
—Merle Whitefire, taking himself far too seriously, defending his pedophilia, and siding with BitingBeaver
Political Lollercoaster '08
Comically enough- though you might think political analysts know more about the current presidential race than a fat loser sitting in his dark basement nom-nom-noming on Mountain Dew and Doritos (whose crumbs get stuck in his neckbeard)- Ms. Merle has decided to weigh in on his important political views and teach us why we shouldn't vote for Obama 'cause his supporters are occasionally dicks to Hillary. LOLWUT? Oh yeah, you heard me right. Observe his ell-jay posts of fail and faggotry:
Yeah, cool with us, Merle. Move to anywhere that you can't get to internets, plz.
"Shouldn't be allowed"? Oh, lawl, how is fantasydreamland these days? And don't forget to note his signature at this failtastic Teen Titans messageboard:
You heard him, he doesn't support the man because he didn't think his fellow supporters were feminazi enough for his tastes. And he really expects us to believe that he'd be just as mad if it were Hillary's cult calling Obama a black person. Wat. Refer to the Biting Beaver debacle, kthx.
Deviant ArtAll entries and favorites were BALEETED out of shame! (Screenshots still document the lulz, but add moar if you got 'em!)
LiveJournalAll journal entries BALEETED to hide his/her shame! (Screenshots still document the lulz, though!)
- Ms. Merle's hugbox
- Where you can find all of Merle's IRL personal information
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