PASS BY THIS WORTHLESS THREAD, DEAR ANONS. FOR HERE LIES... THE APE OF /G/!
AND IF YOU CANNOT, PONDER THIS TALE OF WARNING:

>Thus slowly wandering through many peoples and divers cities, did Stallman return by round-about roads to his mountains and his cave. And behold, thereby came he unawares also to the gate of the GREAT CITY. Here, however, a foaming fool, with extended hands, sprang forward to him and stood in his way. It was the same fool whom the people called “the ape of /g/:” for he had learned from him something of the expression and modulation of language, and perhaps liked also to borrow from the store of his wisdom. And the fool talked thus to Stallman:

>O Stallman, here is the great city: here hast thou nothing to seek and everything to lose.

>Why wouldst thou wade through this mire? Have pity upon thy foot! Spit rather on the gate of the city, and—turn back!

>Here is the hell for anchorites’ thoughts: here are great thoughts seethed alive and boiled small.

>Here do all great sentiments decay: here may only rattle-boned sensations rattle!

>Smellest thou not already the shambles and cookshops of the spirit? Steameth not this city with the fumes of slaughtered spirit?

>Seest thou not the souls hanging like limp dirty rags?—And they make newspapers also out of these rags!

>Hearest thou not how spirit hath here become a verbal game? Loathsome verbal swill doth it vomit forth!—And they make newspapers also out of this verbal swill.

>They hound one another, and know not whither! They inflame one another, and know not why! They tinkle with their pinchbeck, they jingle with their gold.

>They are cold, and seek warmth from distilled waters: they are inflamed, and seek coolness from frozen spirits; they are all sick and sore through public opinion.

>All lusts and vices are here at home; but here there are also the virtuous; there is much appointable appointed virtue:—

cont.