Yuratuhl wrote:
We aren't arguing.
I know we weren't, because just as someone else did, you copped out because you had bupkiss.
Yuratuhl wrote:
I called you out for misusing Godwin's Law, you tried a workaround, and finally acknowledged your error when someone other than me explained the rule (which you'd posted yourself but evidently hadn't read).
There was no "workaround." I explained what I thought Aestu was doing...rather clearly, I thought. Then again, seeing as how you grad school guys can't fucking read simple goddamn English (mayhaps I should be google-translating to Greek...oh or Latin, if they still do that at law school?), I can't be sure how clear I was. Dvergar explained that Aestu really wasn't doing what I thought he was doing. I accepted his explanation, and agreed, which is a damn sight more than any of you twiddling sanctimonious cock-stains seem capable of doing. Aestu is "done" with the conversation after it's pointed out that he's as utterly confused about what he's talking about as I said he was. You only "convince juries," and trot off like a bitch because you can't make a case against anything I say. Fat lot of good you'll be at "convincing juries" when you can't make a case against the LOLFORKLIFTARTISTE.
What should really burn your biscuits is that Dvergar can come into the conversation, reasonably say that I misunderstood, and have me agree with him. So now, not only can you brainiacs not win a pointless argument on the internet with someone you regard as an unsophisticated half-wit, the knuckle-dragger in question also outclasses you by doing the one thing none of you are capable of doing, despite you accusing him of the thing you're most guilty of: never admitting an error and/or conceding a point.
You're going to have one hell of a hard time arguing before the bench if your retorts are "I'm done," or "I don't have to convince
you," or whatever claptrap you spew when you slink off with your tail tucked between your legs while deluding yourself into thinking you've somehow taken some high ground when all you've really done is punk out.
Your Pal,
Jubber