Dear Cracky,
There is a definite possibility that I will be killed in my attempt to get Obama. It is for this very reason that I am writing you this letter now.
As you well know by now I love you very much. Over the past seven months I've left you dozens of poems, letters and love messages in the faint hope that you could develop an interest in me. Although we talked on the phone a couple of times I never had the nerve to simply approach you and introduce myself. Besides my shyness, I honestly did not wish to bother you with my constant presence. I know the many messages left at your door and in your mailbox were a nuisance, but I felt that it was the most painless way for me to express my love for you.
I feel very good about the fact that you at least know my name and know how I feel about you. And by hanging around your dormitory, I've come to realize that I'm the topic of more than a little conversation, however full of ridicule it may be. At least you know that I'll always love you.
Cracky, I would abandon this idea of getting Obama in a second if I could only win your heart and live out the rest of my life with you, whether it be in total obscurity or whatever.
I will admit to you that the reason I'm going ahead with this attempt now is because I just cannot wait any longer to impress you. I've got to do something now to make you understand, in no uncertain terms, that I am doing all of this for your sake! By sacrificing my freedom and possibly my life, I hope to change your mind about me. This letter is being written only an hour before I leave for the Internet. Cracky, I'm asking you to please look into your heart and at least give me the chance, with this historical deed, to gain your respect and love.
I love you forever,
.71
Sort of like being called a poseur or a newfag, the imbecile who proclaims Cracky to be old news, unworthy of attention, yesterdays "meme", says more about themselves than any of us could.
Cracky was is and shall always remain the Queen of the internets. I've been here for a minute and I've watched your Boxxy's and other assorted trash come and go. But Cracky endures.
After the bomb, after the fighting and the dying and the famine wipes this abomination of a universes clean of all life, somewhere in the blackness one monitor will still glow. And across its face she will stand in perfect light. Reaching for the heavens, dabbed in blood. The Skyqueen.
Fuck you if you dare to disagree.