aka The MFA Story: by MHB
All of us are well versed in the tale of Icarus flying too close to the Sun. Actually, this is SKA. Most of you feckless heathens haven’t opened literature that wasn’t court-mandated since you left High School early to stock milk at the neighborhood grocery store. The Crayola version is this: Icarus tried to escape the island of Crete, so he made a pair of wings. His father warned him not to fly too high or too low, but Icarus went and posted a poorly blacked-out business card on the Internet anyway.
The Birth of a Monster
We all watched silently for years as MFA built up his Internet persona. We could have stopped him then, but we chose not to. I’m sure I’m not alone in that I felt no one could actually be that dumb on the Internet. Over time, I started to believe the schtick that MFA was really a Retard playing a Genius playing a Retard playing a Genius playing a Retard. The problem is, much like Inception, Mike got lost in that delicate balancing act seven levels deep and was never able to remember which role he was playing. He was like Brando playing Ben Affleck in Gigli. I’ve fucking confused myself now.
Seal of Approval
At some point young Michael decided that our servicemen needed to be fucked with, and good. Since we have a few on SKA, it was the perfect chance for Mike to one up everyone and reveal that he was in fact part of the most deadly special forces outfit ever assembled. Mike’s unit was so hardcore that when Rambo applied, he was forced to roll up his rejection letter, stick it way up in his own ass, all while singing Wham’s “Last Christmas” in falsetto.
The Awful Truth
Meanwhile, Mike was committing some sort of badassery because it turns out he did hard time. When you can kill a man using any of 33 pressure points, even a casual handshake is risking a murder rap. I shudder to think how many times I myself cheated death by “attempting” to troll the TrollMaster. It’s like finding out years later that you played Cribbage every Wednesday with John Wayne Gacy.
Oh Fuck, These Wings Are Held On With Wax?!?!
MFA has held many mudderfuckers at bay over the years with his Houdini-like escapability. Ask him a tough question, and within 9-12 minutes tops he will have Bing’ed something resembling a correct answer. Who can forget the time he told me that Patrick Peterson wasn’t about to sign an extension even after I posted a quote from Keim saying he would like to lock him up soon? “It won’t happen this offseason. Period.”, typed MFA. Within 12 hours he was signed long-term. Then that wily bastard told me it didn’t happen that way even after I screen-shotted the whole sordid mess. He can literally get out of any situation using his utility bag of killer phrases like “No I didn’t” and “You’re gay”.
The Moral of His Story
I think MFA is basically a good guy with a bad hairpiece. Yes, he attached himself too much to his Internet persona, but most of us are guilty of that from time to time. Someone says something bad about you Online, and you get mad. But if you take a step back and look at it objectively, really it’s just a Turkey avatar calling a Pineapple avatar a flaming faggot. Besides being a ridiculous visual, it’s not that far off the mark.
You need to be able to separate yourself from the surreal existence of this degenerate, subhuman man-cave Christopher Keal built for us with his own delicate and milky white hands. By committing the ultimate Internet Fuck-Up, MFA will most likely learn this lesson the hard way. But, after a couple weeks of soul-searching, I predict he will come back to the flock because, let’s face it, he’s goddamn Mike From Arizona.
Why I’m Still Angry
I think back to his Top 10 troll article and the fact I didn’t catch a sniff still enrages me to this day. Meanwhile, he bit on anything I ever sent his way, no matter how weak the sauce. Some of us have a more subtle flavor to our trolls, Michael. You kept ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the same meat and potatoes, day after day, and meanwhile I was serving up Lobster Thermidor Aux Crevettes with a with a Mornay sauce, Served in a Provençale Manner with Shallots and Aubergines, garnished with Truffle Paté.
FreeTodd
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