If you showed this picture to anyone else without any information, they'd assume Sweet is the father and his mother his wife.
https://kiwifarms.net/attachments/2f86f57bafbc8ad125440c25232dc0e8153200b3-jpg.106733/
I wonder how many times this 40 year old man child gets offered a senior citizen's discount.
Notice that the woman holding the toddler has turned her body to protect the child from Uncle Seventh Sigma -- who is posing as an oddly dressed and crazed-looking homeless man -- while everyone else in the photo faces the camera directly.
And why is Thumbskull wearing what appear to be pajama tops unbuttoned to his bulging gut while the others are dressed normally? Does he think passers-by wish to admire his T-shirt? Is he afraid that someone will fail to recognize him as a white-trash lunatic with a criminal record? Does Mama Sweet need new batteries for the cattle prod she doubtless employs to force him to dress?
Now, let's take a look at the contents of Moonface's latest attempt to make the English language squeal like a pig as he forces it to submit to his unnatural -- and semi-literate -- lust.
Thumbskull McMoonface wrote:
Afterwards, the whole family went out to eat, where we got caught up on one another's lives as we gored our way through the big Sunday lunch buffet at El Acapulco.
In American English, competent writers and editors prefer
afterward, not
afterwards, which is more common in British English. And people don't
gore their way through a meal. The word he's looking for is
gorge, although even that reads very oddly.
As for El Acapulco,
here's a link to this fine establishment's Yelp reviews. The most frequent complaint about this two-star eatery is "filth." Chances that Uncle Crazy tard-raged until the others agreed to go there? 100 percent.
Wannabe Ax Murderer wrote:
And of course, the obligatory promises to all get back together sometime when everybody's schedule permits. Hopefully it won't take another seven or eight years to make that happen. It's tough, you know... busy schedules, bruised feelings, divergent schedules.
That
schedule should be
schedules. Many children in elementary school would spot that blunder. And referring to his victim's "bruised feelings" in the aftermath of what Thumbskull has clearly stated was an attempted murder with an ax (or sometimes a metal bar) seems a bit disingenuous, even by the standards of The Stalking Horror.
The Giant Brain of Blytheville wrote:
I think I see now where the tendency a number of folks have noticed I have to tilt my head in photos comes from-- I always thought it was just to keep the light from striking my glasses, but perhaps it's hereditary.
The idea that tilting your head prevents light from striking your glasses demonstrates a stunning lack of knowledge of How Things Work. Or maybe just a profound inability to write clearly. He literally states that cranking his neck prevents "the light" -- all of it, every single photon -- "from striking my glasses." Cranking his neck, as he describes it, deploys a magical cloaking charm that turns his glasses -- lenses, frame, everything -- invisible. The fact that someone who writes so very, very badly considers himself a professional author is symptomatic of mental illness.
At least HSMOF will be happy that Thumbskull has conceded -- for the time being -- that his freakishly spastic neck-cranking is not a conscious action.
Edited to more clearly mock The Giant Brain of Blytheville's gibber-jabber about the magical effects of neck-cranking..