Watson: I'll take "Boorish Internet Windbags" for $400.
Alex: This laughable internet pedant is notorious on running message boards for his incessant annoying assertions that elite runners could always have run better races by employing intermediate splits based on his hypothetical performance calculator, and for his constant misspelling of the word "rabbit."
Watson: Who is ventolin^3?
Alex: That is correct.
Alright, here's a couple of hints, Azmacort cubed:
1) You've got potential, but if you're ever going to reach the level of Master Troll, you have to know when to quit with a particular schtick before it becomes obvious you're trolling. Case in point: It's very clear that no data exists on the phosphocreatine levels available at the 200, 400 and 600 marks of an 800 race, and (partly because that hypothesis has never been investigated) it's equally clear that no one who's serious has ever given or ever would give a Tootsie Roll down an elevator shaft about the idea in the first place. So having an Alan Webb-quality chimpout when the frivolous (not to mention nonexistent) data aren't presented to you pegs you as nothing cleverer than a run-of-the-mill troll who's desperately trying to push buttons but has run out of ideas other than ad hominem insults. Which brings us to ...
2) A Master Troll keeps his cool in a back-and forth and lets the other guy resort to simplistic tactics like name calling and sophomoric taunting. After all, the troll is trying to push that guy's buttons, not have his own buttons pushed. When you insult, you've lost. You've been out-trolled. Even an Intermediate Troll can do better than that.
Now, a Master Troll can get in some insult jabs, but they have to either be cleverly veiled or they have to involve a small amount of humor - but be just unfunny enough, just enough of an annoying wisecrack - that some sucker will be compelled to post "Not funny. Stick to your day job." or "0/10." See? That sucker then gets trolled by the Master in a two-fer along with the primary mark. An example of a sort-of-unfunny insult jab occurs above with my little "Jeopardy" gag. And with that, it's time to spill the beans. I am a Master Troll. That's right - in the Phil Hendrie tradition, I'm going to give away the whole thing and tell you I often engage in deliberate trolling. And I can get away with this because, like Phil Hendrie, I'm so good at it - and so many unwitting marks are floundering around this message board for the taking - that I'll still sucker in the hapless, knee-jerk boneheads even if they know I'm trolling! In fact, the mere mention that I'm sub-bridge-dwellingly, toll-takingly good at trolling (or anything, for that matter) is going to prompt some hotheaded little twit to comment on my hubris.
Yes, you've got potential, sonny, but BRAAAAACK!!! (wrong answer buzzer). You kept harping on something too obviously petty, so it was evident you were trying to troll. Then you resorted to insults, ultimately failing as a troll. It's time go lick your wounds on this one.