Let us take a look back at his blog of a few weeks ago, which viciously attacked the credentials of one Eric J. Csontos, and also included the perfunctory soft drink review that Bekir seems to have strayed from throughout the span of his brief yet surprisingly potent writing career. Mr. Csontos did not provoke Bekir (whom is now called the Turkish Terror by many of his victims), yet he was the target of a lengthy verbal assault, including a barrage of insults comparing him to his obviously overrated brother, Matthew. After devouring Eric’s lifeless corpse, Bekir realized he had bigger fish to fry. Namely, Elias H. Schulkin III, esquire and regional footwear manager for Modell’s Sporting Goods. After some of my associates referred me to Bekir’s hate filled blog, I followed the facebook link to the entry Bekir posted with the sole intent of destroying my reputation (probably impossible at this point). He used some immature words that will not be repeated to present to his readers an image of myself that many would probably echo.
Let us address Mr. Yilmaz’s prime accusation: “I think I’m better than everyone”. Interesting that Bekir would decide to travel this particular route. I believe our faithful readers deserve to know the full story of why Bekir feels this way, and how we arrived at this junction. To make a long story short, Bekir asked for my hand in lawful partnership, and I was emotionally unavailable. To say that I did not believe Bekir was a potential mate is not necessarily true; he has the rugged good looks of a Kurdish goat farmer mixed with the body of a young Rainn Wilson. However, I need some level of stimulating conversation in a relationship, a department in which Bekir is severely lacking. It is understandable that he would attack me the only way he knew how: by using his vicious words to cut me down to size. However, Bekir’s arrogance has lost him more than a friend; I believe he may have lost his soul. It is often said that when the weak minded come into power, they lose themselves in their quest for more. Bekir is no longer a mere blogger, he is undoubtedly the next great villain of our generation. I digress.
I would now like to discuss some of the other individuals whom have been wronged by Mr. Yilmaz in the past, with the hopes that he takes it upon himself to apologize to them, and then go back to fucking Honduras or whatever. Some people take a vacation to hit the beach, enjoy some relaxing time off, and fraternize with good friends and family. Bekir ruined the vacations of eleven of his closest friends by infesting their collective residence with 87 cans of disgusting tuna, which contained an odor that permeated the entire premises.
To make matters worse, he’s pretty weird. Just saying. I never know what he’s fucking talking about. A few months before apologetically subjecting his friends to potential mercury poisoning, Bekir disrespected the home of myself and Wade R. Veselka, in a brilliant scheme to frame a helpless dog. To the best of my knowledge, Bekir waited until all of our housemates had gone to sleep, then proceeded to lower his drawers and unleash a hellacious turd that had the consistency of guacamole with the potency of Zoltar’s asshole. He would have made the poopie princess herself extremely proud. However, he did not commit this act in the confines of a bathroom, as most reasonable Americans (I have reason to believe Bekir’s birth certificate was forged) would. No, Bekir shat upon our cabinet. This particular cabinet was a family heirloom, made of Sudanese oak with gold and diamond encrusted handles.
I think this little anecdote perfectly sums up Bekir’s attitude towards both his friends and finely aged wood: insubordination. He lacks the understanding that served Scottie Pippen so well throughout his years in Chicago: Bekir needs to understand he is not, and will never be, “The Man.” That title belongs to me. Check mate. Game over. Light the victory cigar. Get off of Wes. By the way Bekir, your blog now belongs to me. It will be called Elias the Examiner. This is not up for debate. I expect your computer and your gun on my desk in the morning.
Sincerely,
Elias H. Schulkin III Esquire, Regional Footwear Manager of Modell’s Sporting Goods
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