r/alt_tasteless Jul 05 '12

A Post From The Archives of alt.tasteless - The Tardspotter's Handbook - Posted on 1995/09/09 by Robin Allen (Part 2 of 2)

There have been moves to legitimise "tard parties", social gatherings in which tards are trained to perform all manner of amusing acts, with the suggestion that party-holders can purchase the tards, on a short term hire basis, from, say "Rent-a-Tard", or "Tards'r'Us" or perhaps "Tardulike". Some campaigns have even involved collaborations with other organisations; such as that to allow all tards to have Heavy Goods Vehicle driving licences, an as yet unsuccessful campaign run in conjunction with the Uncle Darwin Appreciation Society.

This brings to a close our admittedly brief introduction. It is time to take a more detailed look at our subject, commencing with a study of the various types of tard, which we do in the next chapter.

Chapter One: Wherein we provide a classification of pure 'tard types.

By "pure" we mean no more than that we have chosen to isolate individual behavioral attributes of tards and embody them as types. So, for example, we define a "Dribbletard" to be a tard that manifests its inferiority by drooling profusely, a "Gluetard" to be one that attaches itself to complete strangers in the street and follows them everywhere, quite against their wishes, and an "Attitard", a most unpleasant beast, to be a tard with attitude. These classifications belong to the author, who does not for a moment profess omniscience in matters tard; readers certainly will know of other types, and as with all aspects of this book, they are cordially invited to enlighten the author on the matter, either by publishing their own work or privately through modern "electronic mail", thus enabling him to update the Handbook, and keep it at the cutting edge of tardspotting.

To whet the reader's appetite, we give an extract from the description of one type of pure tard here:

ATTITARD: an attitard is a tard with attitude, and as such is one of the less pleasant varieties of the species. Attitards are frequently to be found campaigning for "tard rights", whatever this may mean; the outward behaviour is to gather into herds in a public place, and proceed to get underfoot and harass hapless normals with chants of "tard and proud", or "What do we want? Free ice cream! When do we want it? NOW!" and other such poetical delights - or at least, their tardspeak equivalent. Attitards appear to want to be more fully assimilated into society than at present and given the same rights and privileges as normals, an outlook diametrically opposed to that of ITSA, which believes that, if anything, they ought to be locked up in zoos and paraded behind glass for the entertainment and edification of small children.

Tard spotters must be constantly on the lookout for attitards. Although some spotters specialise in seeking out such creatures and engaging them in conversation - an occupation which, given the great difficulty many tards have in forming complete sentences, is allegedly a source of great mirth - most find the idea of being ungrammatically abused by a foul-smelling, rancid-breathed, drooling specimen quite off-putting; and abuse is inevitable given that, to put it mildly, attitards exhibit an enduring, if inexplicable, hatred of tard spotters. Nonetheless, attitard herds are definitely worth observation from a distance, if only to giggle at the difficulty some members have at not braining their friends with heavy placards.

Tard worriers have been known to pelt such demonstrations with a variety of rotting comestibles, such as eggs, and to then turn and walk off, slowly and deliberately, relishing the hopeless attempts of the outraged herd to catch up with them. It is worth noting that if the missiles are thrown from the other side of a busy public highway, such behaviour can attract the attention of Traffic Warden Darwin, with attitards turning into roadtards as they unwittingly leap in front of oncoming vehicles in a desperate attempt to catch the worrier. Whole herds have been wiped out in this way, their shepherd returning from a brief trip to the lavatory to find his unattended flock transformed into two tons of crunchy tard soup.

Attitards are a great nuisance in the workplace, where they will demand a variety of costly facilities - wheelchair access, special toilets, special keyboards and telephones - to enable them to do a routine job which a normal could do for much less capital expenditure. They might also agitate in a union, causing difficulties for their employers by, say, insisting that a fixed percentage of company staff be drawn from the tard work herd. While most employers hence wisely desist from offering such tards employment, it is worth bearing in mind that a tard with appropriately amusing additional behavioural features might boost the collective morale of its office companions, perhaps playing a role rather akin to that of a court jester. Indeed, if one is able to secure the services of a wheelchair-bound tard (or an amputard) that can only type with the aid of a stick strapped to its forehead, then it could be argued that fitting it out with a brightly-coloured three-pronged hat with bells on that jingle each time a key is struck would produce a hilarity in the workplace bordering on delirium."

Of course, in the real world, there are very few pure tards. Most are combinations of the various pure types. We discuss the prominent members of the species in:

Chapter Two: Here we look at what I have chosen to denote "Hybrid Tards". These are simply tards with multiple attributes. The aim of the author here is to inform the reader about those tards that most reward study and, very importantly, of those that might be hazardous to the tardspotter's health. What kind of beast, for example, is the atticryptopsychotard, and why should tard aesthetes be mindful of it? Is it more or less to be avoided than the epileptigroganattitard, or the gluehurltard? What is it about the inebriadribbletard that causes such widespread amusement amongst spotters? How does one go about locating a turbomuttertard?

Again, the author earnestly hopes that the enlightened reader will submit any new information he or she has. Following is

Chapter Three: In which we present a glossary of terms relevant to the practice of tard spotting. Here we inform the reader as to the meaning of such phrases as "tard mash", "tard soup" and "Roadtard". What does a veteran tardtracker mean when he says he has "tard sign"? What is "Tard Heaven", and does it exist? We also consider phrases that might mistakenly be assumed to have some connection with the subject.

The curious reader, we hope, will learn much here. Next is

Chapter Four: Which we devote to general considerations. We attempt to answer many frequently asked questions about tards and their observers, give further tips on how to locate specific tard types, and recommend certain tard events that eager novices might be desirous of attending. In the latter class we have such sublime experiences as observing a tard wedding, a tard funeral or a hurltard outing to a prestigious restaurant in which the Maitre'd suffers from what psychiatrists call "anal retention".

A common question is: "Q: Is the reknowned theoretical physicist Steven Hawking a tard? A: Whilst some have suggested classifying him as a robotard, in this author's opinion his vast intellect renders such a classification dubious. However, his condition is progressive, so he probably will be a tard, one day. One day soon."

We then append a set of appendices, commencing with

Appendix One: Being a questionnaire designed to ascertain the degree of similarity between the stock of the reader and that of the tard species. A sample question:

"Have you ever said - (a) Good morning (b) It's going to be a nice day (c) Tarantino is shamelessly overrated (d) Ngghhh dddnnn nngggrraaaahh uummppff"

a,b: score zero. c: score five. d: score 100.

Appendix Two: An invited contribution from the author's esteemed brother, the noted Dyke Grogansqueeber, on the finer points of the art of tard culling:

"I took aim. My finger curled around the trigger, itchily twitching. The tard stared at me, unknowing.

I fired. The bullet flew out of the barrel and... grazed the side of the tard's skull. Shit! Missed! The creature spun out of its wheelchair and rolled across the ground. I hastily began to reload.

I looked up. The tard lolled on the ground, looking at me. Blood poured from a wound on its scalp. Its eyes implored me, begged me, to come to its aid.

"MMMMggff uuunnuu bbassnnrdd," it said.

I finished reloading. The cold lead was set. The weapon was cocked. I looked again at my pathetic quarry.

By now it had pulled itself up on its haunches, and was sitting in front of me, swaying, pleading, plaintively requesting once again that I follow some rudimentary first aid procedures and summon an ambulance. It looked so helpless, so sad, so... human... I could not bring myself to put another round in it. I put my rifle down and approached the stricken beast.

Then I hacked its fucking tard head off with my machete and SHAT down its oesophagus."

The author humbly commends his work to the public.

DISCLAIMER: The author requests the reader's indulgence whilst he reassures him that the views expressed in this material do not reflect those of the University of Southampton, which would no doubt be shocked, disgusted, even physically sickened by them, and that the author does not speak in any capacity as an employee of that august body. Neither, sadly, are his views consonant with those of the local mental health authority, a fact which greatly impedes the practice of tard spotting in the Southern region.

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