DEAR NITPICKERS:
It's interesting that 99.999999999% of the commentators on this list spend 100% of their time nitpicking over my book, The Making of Bigfoot, and ZERO PERCENT of their time disproving all aspects of the book.
For example, what does commenting on when the book was officially published have to do with you getting off your expansive or bonyl rear-ends and proving that Patterson was an honest man?
What does the smiley faces and the "pat, pats" on the back have to do with disproving that Morris sold a gorilla suit to Patterson? A mutual vanity society, could you be? Male apes beating your huge breasts to demonstrate your power and authority over nothing but your own fantasies and onanistic spewings that you leave on your keyboards?
What does your whining and complaining about the book being bought by the American public have to do with you disproving Harvey Anderson's story?
Why the incessant picking and scraping at your own scabs? Why the talk about the fact that an author makes money from selling a book? I mean, are you so incredibly stupid as to think that any commercial author isn't interested in making some money? I mean, are you so high and mighty to think that writers should remain impoverished slobs like yourselves? The entire notion that, because I am selling a book, I'm a fraud is not only abysmally dumb, but idiotic, vacuous, and moronic. It is the height of self-righteousness and arrogance. Why not slam Loren Coleman? He's writing books for money. John Green has just repackaged his books and is selling them on Amazon.com. Aren't they frauds, then? They must be liars, eh? As are any other Bigfoot "community" authors who write books, eh, fool?
The fact is you are lazy, thick-skulled and incapable of whole thoughts or analysis of arguments and facts, are you not? I welcome your disproving all the witnesses in my book, every one of them. Perhaps with a bit more exposure to reading, thinking, contemplation, and less time pumping your own shrieking, pounding, cacophonous wretchings into your ears, you might manage to construct an idea, and one based upon the evidence, as presented, but more importantly upon knowledge of human nature and the motives of con artists and unemployed bums who scheme and steal and leave society to deal with their messes? Or do you not mind a liar in your midst? Maybe you have a yearning to cheat and steal? Maybe the gflorification of criminality in our society appeals to your manhood, since no decent female would ever waste their time listening to a bellowing, spitting, and bitching group of nabobs such as yourselves? But perhaps you are drunk 90% of the time? Maybe you're doped up half the time??? Your vocabulary seems to suggest that it is composed of the words "liar," "lie," "fraud," "money," "debunker," "hearsay evidence," "allegation," "yarn," "stupidity," rubbish," "crap," "bu**s**t," and so forth. I'm not even certain if you can read. Maybe you pick out every seventh or twentieth letter; maybe you grow bored after reading a sentence and then turn to a bong? What could it be? What disease? Genetic? Self-induced?
Maybe in the end, it's a simple matter that The Making of Bigfoot is the truth, something you loathe and despise in a time of advancing social decay? Who knows? You seem endlessly attracted to coughing and hacking out sputum and rambling, incoherent babblings that lead nowhere, but to your own self-praise? You don't get it. You just don't get.
Because you hate anything that is expressed in words, then when Bob Heironimus gets inside, fully clothed, in a Morris suit that has been modified as Patterson modified it, and he walks just like the "bigfoot" in the Patterson film, then that single image will burn its truthfulness and integrity deep within your brains. Eh? That is the only objective test that will satisfy a visusally oriented pack of... of...what do you call yourselves... but that image will roar in thunder and then doubting Thomases, the Patterson film will turn brown at the edges and the flames shall eat it alive until falls, black powder, into Bluff Creek.
Greg Long
The Making of Bigfoot