Lyla Black.

So, I guess I'll have to run into that little cunt rag.
Lyla Black.
The brat with the blog.
That spoiled d--bag who "reviews" Chicago theatre at the advanced age of 8.
Look her up, she's out there. And I hate her.
Actually I love her.
Because she's a child.
I hate her parents.
Actually you can't look her up.
I'm using a fake name.

But, she seems to review these prime time Neo--Futurist shows.
And I'm in two of them this season.
So, we'll probably cross paths.

If I was the creator of these shows I'd write a letter to the parents.
I'd say:

Please don't review this show on your blog.
I think what you're doing to your child is manipulative and abusive.
Please don't bring your daughter to see this show.
Please don't see this show.
Personally I don't want you in the building.
I hope you burn in hell you sick bastards.

But, I'm not the creator of these shows. So, I can't write that letter. And, I should be doing other things. Like co--writing these shows for example.

So, I'll just have to be a mature adult about this.

But, I'm still very angry for the record. I'm not letting this go. This child is not cute. She is not smart. She is not special. She's a girl. A normal girl. A normal ass girl who is worshiped by her mediocre local Chicago actor parents.

Don't get me started.

I hate these people. When I eventually run into these snakes, I will not be shy. I'll tell them to their face how much I hate them.

And it will take a considerable amount of restraint on my part to resist tying them to chairs and forcing them to watch me rape their daughter in the ass with a rusty pipe.

War,
Skin & Toast