You are weak. You are wack. You are sissy soft suckas. You are counterrevolutionary hoarders, chumps, and whining mongrel filth of the first order.
I, on the other hand, am the Duke of New York; I am A-Number-One. There is only one way to redeem yourself: TAKE MY CHALLENGE!
Spending an entire month on writing a novel is for cowards, Fabians and degenerates. It is for those without the courage of their half-formed convictions. I hereby declare this to be NATIONAL NOVEL-WRITING DAY!
Anyone who cannot write a 50,000-word novel of superior quality within 24 hours does not deserve to be called a writer, or, indeed, a human being. I expect each of you to post, in your journal, a completed novel of no less than the abovementioned length by midnight tonight. Perhaps you will seek a shortcut, by posting your “novel-in-progress”, or some variety of five-word micro-novel or the like; to this I say, there is no shame in failure, unless you consider humiliation, degradation and the knowledge that your literary impotence has been fully exposed to all your peers to be shameful.
You have your task. Waste no further time.