Struck for Epitaph

At someone's request, I will mention Anh Tu's death. Yes, he's dead. In other words, he's officially closed down his blog. I suppose the fervent updating and rigorous grammar checks became too much to bear, and he decided that the only way to save his soul was to relieve himself of this burden in a remote lavatory somewhere. If only all of us, upon sighting a shard of gray, could take such a greasy way out. But drat to that; it's time for remembrance. Here is an extract of one of Anh Tu's more memorable posts:

I was in a bar. A BOHO from BOHEMIA was WANKING into a glass. Fucker. I blew my load. A girl came up to me & asked if I was the guy with the awesome voice in the SPATS & I wiped my pants with her dress and said yes, then she invited me to her apartment & I accepted. What? I'm allowed to compromise my brain for my penis once in a while, YOU FUCKING FUCK FUCK! GO FUCK A CANDLE! As we were leaving the bar a guy came up to us & said "hey, I think you have a really great voice" and I blew my load again. He sponged it off and squeezed it into a jar & sold it off on ebay for $10.50. I was pissed because the jack nicholsons guy got $14 for his. Anyway we went back to her apartment & she said I had the most amazing voice she'd ever heard again & this academic climbed in through the window & said "even though I'm a FUCKING ACADEMIC who doesn't know shit from shit I think you have a Fucking awesome voice I want to cum in your mouth". so anyway, I spit it back in his face and call him a mangy CUNT and then lie down with this girl. During the grind she asks me if I've written any songs and I go limp. I say FUCK YOU! WHY IS EVERYTHING ABOUT SONGS?? WHY CAN'T I HAVE A FUCKING AWESOME VOICE AND NO SONGS?? WHY??. I punch her in the boob and then dive out the window. The academic walks up to me and says 'you don't need any songs. You're a PERFORMANCE ARTIST" and I blow my load again. HE then says he cums everytime I hit a high C and I tell him to shut up and die and he does. Cunt.

Isn't it a shame that his wit will no longer be staining our pants?