I have a 25-page blueprint for a perpetual motion machine and eight museum exhibits,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Fiiiiiive gooooolden rings!
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree!
currently in the mail to be delivered to my special Christmas Cookie, WJJ Hoge III, tomorrow, and my other special Christmas Cookie, the Mysterious Midnight Janitor/Christmas Eve Clerk of the Circuit Court of Carroll County, Maryland, on Monday. As soon as I see on the USPS Inspector General’s website that Hoge or the court have their copies, I will make it public for another three week odyssey of pointage, laughery and epic mockeration.
Here’s where we stand. Well, sit. If we’re going to be accurate about it. On January 30, I have to be transported the 45 miles to Carroll County Circuit Court, with a forklift and a flatbed truck, to receive an ass-whupping from a judge.
This is a “show my ass” hearing so I can humiliate myself once more before a judge while trying to explain why I should not be held in contempt of court for violating the “no contact” portion of Hoge’s ill-gotten peace order against me. I say “ill-gotten” because it’s just so embarrassing to admit that I failed to follow through and check the court calendar to see that the appeal hearing was still on the docket. That would require me to admit that something was my fault, and as a 60 year old man who has never before taken responsibility for anything I’ve done in my life, I can tell you I’m not about to start now.
Did I call him at his home and swear at him? No. My wife took the phone and hung it up before the call went through.
Did I write him a nasty letter? Yes. Did my wife mail it? No. I think she fed it to the dogs.
Did I send him an e-mail? No. Well…not recently.
Did I hire a sound truck and drive around the streets if Winchester playing the “Hoge is a Senile Cocksucker” song? No. I could only afford the wind-up fire truck for fifteen minutes, and it wasn’t loud enough anyway. Which really sucks because it’s a catchy little tune.
I linked to his blog. Because Mrs. BM was out of the house and I’m a pathetic idiot with no self control or internal editor.
Yep. That’s the crime. I contacted the man by mistake when I did something that instructed a website to send him an email. That’s the reason why I have to be hauled out of my house by a forklift on January 30 in the coldest part of the Winter, strapped to a flatbed and trucked to Westminster because I wrote a blog entry that contained a link to Hoge’s blog, which I wouldn’t bother reading in the first place if it wasn’t for the squirrels whispering at me from the trees outside. They make me do it. They say they will sneak in the house and pee in the mayonnaise if I don’t do as they tell me. They scare me.
You’re blinking your eyes in disbelief, right?
Why in God’s name is this queer (BUTT STUFF ALARM ACTIVATED!!) old man requiring this blogger who can’t even sit up straight in his chair, this man with Stage IV Parkinson’s disease who requires assistance to walk. (…to do what?) This man who hasn’t driven a car since 2009. (…to do WHAT?) This man who had to retire from a very well-paying job in 2001 and now lives basically on Social Security. (TO DO WHAT, GODDAMMIT?!?!) This man who chokes on his food and drink, who cannot stand up long enough to brush his teeth without horrible pain in his back, who sits slouched over in his wheelchair with ungodly pain shooting down his right arm and a numb right hand from 59 years and 3 months of touching the hot stove and sticking forks into electric outlets every single day, and this is at his most comfortable? (ALL RIGHT, ALREADY!! ENOUGH ABOUT THIS FUCKING MAN!! TELL US WHAT THE QUEER -teeheehee! – OLD MAN IS REQUIRING HIM TO DO!!) This man who reacts to cold weather by locking up and falling. (OH, JESUS H. CHRIST, YOU’RE LEAVING THE READER HANGING? YOU COCKTEASER, YOU!! NO WONDER YOU WERE SO POPULAR IN THE NAVY. BASTARD. FINISH THE FUCKING SENTENCE, YOU BRILLIANT WRITER.)
The reason this old man is doing this? Because I have a WordPress blog (that I used to violate the peace order). And when I posted something about how Hoge had copied something from MY blog and posted it on HIS, I included a link to his blog, which is something I do about as often as I forget to turn on the stove and burn myself. This extraordinarily rare link I posted caused the WordPress program to automatically — with no input from me except for a blog link that I put in a post because the whispering squirrels made me do it— send Hoge an e-mail notifying him that my blog had magically and without any reason whatsoever mentioned his blog. “Honest, officer, the gun jumped off the table, loaded itself, flipped off its own safety fell into my lap and used my finger to pull its trigger and shoot through the walls of the trailer into window across the street where it killed that six-year old watching SpongeBob. And why wasn’t she in school anyway? Saturday? What does that have to do with anything?” To most people, this is a reason to smile, or so I’ve been told. “Oh, I got a ping back!” (Weird. I never thought I’d have a reason to use that sentence.) According to what I have read, the recipient is given the opportunity to accept the ping back, at which time a small notice will appear in the comments section of the URL that was linked to. Or, if a person doesn’t want to post the ping back, he has the opportunity to delete it and never see it again. But I don’t know if it really works like that because I’ve never gotten a ping back myself.
Hoge chose to accept the ping back and have it posted on his blog. His doing, not mine. All I did was post the link that started the whole chain of events in motion.
Then, #vindictive he #mendacious charged #vexatious me #loquatious with #precocious violating #Locutus his #bodacious peace #delicious order. #supercalifagilisticexpialidocious
I am a simple unfrozen caveman blogger. Your WordPress ways are strange and confusing. With my Parkinson’s disease, I forget things…like…pants. Sometimes I will take my evening pills, then put my pants in the refrigerator. I NOW know that a person can disable his blog’s ping back function, after using WordPress for several years. But that means nobody would ever receive a ping back from this blog ever again, leaving me with a lifetime total of one. This would be a permanent thing, because as long as that blog post linking to Hoge’s blog exists on my blog, even if it’s off the front page, if I ever restart the ping back function, WordPress will automatically search for links, find the link to Hoge, and send him an e-mail. So we’re talking forever, like three or four weeks until I delete this blog and reset for the 873rd time in three years.
So why would he do this? Why would he press for a contempt citation over a contact that I made that was clearly NOT contact, and could only be considered contact by idiotic TROLLS that until recently no longer existed after I wished them into the cornfield? Was he alarmed, annoyed or frightened by the ping back? Does it matter? It doesn’t seem so. All he seems concerned about is whether I have AGAIN violated an ill-gotten peace order that he wouldn’t have gotten if I hadn’t been ill. And also an idiot who failed to check and see that the appeal hearing was still on the docket. He seems to be enjoying the result. I guess if our roles were reversed, I would be enjoying it too.
He says, and I quote him from his “Blogsmoke” blog entry tonight – which “is a work of fiction. Anyone who feels it might be about him should read Proverbs 28:1,” whatever that is – (though I dare not link to it):
I’m not the vexatious litigant in this scenario. And the game’s not over yet. As I said, that cyberthug has violated the current peace order. As a result of my petition, he’s been ordered to show cause why he shouldn’t be found to be in contempt of court. While I haven’t asked for jail as a sanction, it’s on the judge’s list of options.
I guess if HE’s not the vexatious litigant in this scenario, then I must be. I am vexatious, and vindictive, and mendacious, and lying, and smelly, and ugly, and stupid, and un-self aware, and vile, and atrocious, and a fool, one supposes, for daring to believe that I can sufficiently warp reality enough to come up with an even marginally cogent legal theory to defend myself against this charge, of which I am obviously, ludicrously guilty…if you live in the real world, anyway. Tomorrow, you will see the basic idiocy of my defense.
I do not expect to prevail (cuz I’m GUILTY – ssshhhh). In fact, I would be shocked if I did (cuz I’m GUILTY). I fully expect that this particular judge will throw the book at me and put my crippled ass in jail (because I’m – everybody sing it – GUIIIIIILTEEEEEE!!!!!).
I couldn’t make him understand that to the civilized world OUTSIDE the Carroll County Courthouse, Twitter is not considered direct communication. I told him he was a fool. In the Federal case of US v. Cassidy, the wise judge who agrees with me declared Twitter to be a “bulletin board” that the reader can peruse or ignore as he likes. The idiot judge who doesn’t understand the plain, simple, profanity-and-insult-laced dialect of English that I use rejected that argument. He foolishly rejected the learned state attorney general’s opinion (which I agree with, so it MUST be correct) that Twitter is not a vehicle for harassment under state law. The dimwitted dingleberry on the bench called that, “just another lawyer’s opinion.” As if a lawyer’s opinion doesn’t carry the same FORCE OF LAW that his ruling does. So I don’t really think I am going to score a victory on the road with a referee who has admitted from the bench that he does not understand the rules of the game he has been asked to referee.
I wrote that, and even I don’t understand it!
I expect I will be heavily fined and/or jailed.
If I get to Westminster without a side-trip to an emergency room, which is sure to happen because I have so thoroughly telegraphed that I now MUST fall and break something, if only to have some other new and pointless disaster of my own making to blame HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!! for.
Which is really what I want to talk about – that rat-bastard Hoge manipulating me into sending him a ping back so that he could file a petition that would result in Carroll County scheduling a hearing that forces me out of my warm, comfy hovel into the freezing heart of winter while I have late stage ELEVENTY Parkinson’s Stress Exacerbation Disorder that makes my shivering pee hole squirt all the gritty sand out of my giant mangina and get stains all over the front of my very best big girl panties.
The website Viartis (which, I assume, will not mind being linked to, because I haven’t stalked or harassed them…but it’s still early in the day and you never know) has a simple explanation for the effect of cold weather and stress on PD.
Cold temperature can cause symptoms identical to those of Parkinson’s Disease including rigidity, loss or lessening of physical movement and tremor, either by being in a cold place, in cold water or by consuming cold drinks. Shivering is simply a cold temperature tremor. That is very probably why people with Parkinson’s Disease can tend towards increased symptoms during colder weather. The effect of the cold temperature is adding to the symptoms that they already have.
Stress can cause the symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease in somebody that doesn’t have it, and exacerbate the symptoms in somebody that does. This is because stress causes the formation of adrenaline, which increases acteylcholine, which increases muscle contraction – the primary symptom in Parkinson’s Disease. This is why even people that don’t have Parkinson’s Disease can get stiffened muscles when they are stressed, and even shake with fear, as if they had tremor. What the body does in response to this is produce dopamine, because dopamine reduces excessive muscle contraction. Somebody with Parkinson’s Disease can not produce sufficient dopamine, which is why the muscles contract excessively in Parkinson’s Disease regardless of whether or not somebody is stressed. So stress is not a “cause” of Parkinson’s Disease in that on its own it can not perpetuate the symptoms long term.
I like Viartis. It doesn’t really help in the bedroom anymore but I like the way it turns everything that bluish color. They’ve said kind things about my books in the past, direct from the press releases that I emailed them.
Does Hoge know this? Is he aware of this fact? Of course he is. The whispering squirrels report that he reads Viagratis every single day. Why else are the readers to his blog cheering for extremely cold weather to shrink my testicles to the size of BBs on January 30?
I’ve written about this. Last year, my stepson bought a new car. I went outside with my wife’s help to take a look at it. It was cold and the wind was cutting right through my skirts and making my mangina whistle. I got to the car, but then could not move, except for a flexing of my knees that I call “bouncing”. It looks like this:
My wife tried to help me, but all I could do was fall. It took her holding one side and her son holding the other to get me back in the house where I sat immobile in my recliner for nearly a half hour.
And that was a year ago.
This would seem to be the desired end of Hoge’s actions here, if he had not already clearly communicated that he wished I would STOP CONTACTING HIM. I honestly believe Hoge meant what he said at our Copyright Agreement settlement conference. After many years in the Navy and many more in journalism (or whatever you want to call being a deejay/program director at a rural radio station with a peak drive time audience of 12 listeners), I’ve gotten pretty good at being able to tell when someone is blowing something sticky up my ass. This is from page 266 of my book “Animus Nocendi,” the story I copy/pasted about the whole copyright infringement case from last summer. The narrative picks up right after Hoge and I signed the agreement and he told me he was not going to pursue the appeal of the District Court’s denial of his latest Peace Order attempt as long as I behaved myself and didn’t give him a reason to change his mind, such as creating another cut/paste masturbpiece like “Animus Nocendi.”
He seemed warm and genuine. He was a person that I honestly believed I might form a friendship with, if I lived long enough to successfully navigate the decade or so of aggressive psychotherapy required to make me a reasonably decent person to be around and not the blazing hemorrhoid I am today. For the first few days after the settlement Hoge was as true as his word. He told his readers to leave me alone. I believed him. I had no reason to believe that he would double cross me. I left him alone, to the best of my knowledge. That is to say, I don’t recall saying anything to him or about him that he would find overly offensive. I just went on my merry way, crafting another bullshit narrative about Hoge and Kreeeeeeeendleeeeeer that gave Hoge reason enough four times over to continue with his appeal of the peace order.
On August 27, the day set for the DeNovo Appeal hearing, still believing that Hoge was foolish enough to take me at my word and not pay any attention to what I was actually doing, I went to a neurology appointment. Hoge went to the Carroll County Circuit Court where I was declared a “no show” because I didn’t show up, and he was given an uncontested, well-deserved peace order.
I think I understand why he did this, and why he didn’t alert me that he had changed his mind – it was not his responsibility or obligation to do so. I don’t think this was the original plan. But Hoge is led around on a string by Aaron Walker, the Mooslim hater who blames Brett Kimberlin for getting him fired from his job as a compliance lawyer for a Virginia Home Health Care provider, but only because Brett Kimberlin actively worked to get him fired and took credit for it after the fact. Walker was providing under the table, unlicensed legal assistance (he is licensed in Virginia, but not Maryland) to an opponent of Brett Kimberlin in a court case, which is neither criminal nor unethical in any sense. When Brett found out a secret Aaron Worthing was assisting his adversary and there was no lawyer on the bar by that name, he spitefully looked into the man’s background and found him to be the same Aaron Worthing who participated in the Everybody Draw Mohammed Day in 2010. Under a pseudonym, Aaron demanded people use THEIR actual names while sending him “particularly fatwa worthy” profane drawings of the Islamic Prophet (piss be upon him). At one point, he wrote, “I am Aaron Worthing of Manassas, Virginia! Come and get me, bitches!” Except, Brett Kimberlin found out his real name was Aaron Walker. Ever the good citizen, with a heaping scoop of Let’s Fuck Aaron Walker’s Life Up Won’t That Be Fun Ha Ha Ha on the side, Brett responsibly notified Walker’s employer that their employee was causing them risk of retaliation by Walker’s actions. In fact, there is strong evidence that Americans died because of this whole racist (Islam is a race, not a religion. Shut up!!) endeavor perpetrated by Walker, but good luck getting me to tell you what that evidence that Brett and I cooked up is or where it can be found, because it’s nothing more than fantasy! The company Walker worked for hired another lawyer to investigate Walker, and they learned not only was he putting his co-workers at risk, he was doing so on company time. He was blogging and working on Kimberlin’s adversary’s case on company time instead of doing the work he was being paid to do. He was summarily discharged, and he went on his blog to claim that it was terroristic threats from Kimberlin that caused his dismissal. It was a lie to say Brett didn’t get Aaron fired then, it is a lie to say Brett didn’t get Aaron fired now.
Brett didn’t get Aaron fired. I don’t know how much more clear I can be.
I am of the opinion that I shouldn’t fart unless I am locked in a very small, airtight closet, with a tube stuck in my ass that runs straight up to a plastic bag over my head and tied around my neck so I can fully appreciate the mayonnaise bouquet. And when Walker saw what I was doing to Kreeeeeeeendleeeeeeeeer!! he immediately told Hoge to follow through on the peace order appeal. This ridiculous contempt charge has Walker’s patented “follow the law” approach all over it. And Hoge’s readers were not ready to end their gay – teeheehee! – little romp with my reputation either. These are people who want me dead. For instance:
The top picture is my wife the day of her throat cancer surgery. The black eye is added by “Howard” who refers to her as “sea hag” and “the captive nurse” and he threatens to visit her after I’m dead. Howard is the ONLY PERSON I CAN FIND WHO SUGGESTS THAT I SHOULD BE DEAD, but he is so prolific and he skeers my weepy vagina so badly that he seems like a gang all by himself. Shut up! He’s a gang, okay?!? Leave me the fuck alone! Why do you expect logic from me? Did you forget I’m BATSHIT CRAZY?
She is down to 121 lbs. She was around 200 on the day of her surgery. She remains cancer free. But the stress of dealing with my gargantuan lack of self control and inability to refrain from engaging with the Hogeists, Zombies, Lee Stranahan and other assorted idiots I JUST. CAN’T. LEAVE. ALONE, combined with her nearly 20 years with the immune disorder Scleroderma, has caused the extreme weight loss. Mostly it’s the Scleroderma. Well, all of it really – it’s not my fault. Shut up!
She is the real reason I choose not to go after Hoge and Walker and the whole Hee Haw gang with hammer and tong. She doesn’t want me to. And I don’t know how much long I’m going to have her, so I won’t do anything she doesn’t want me to. Because I am a good little henpecked husband. (As you can see, she had a good portion of her left neck carved out as they took all the lymph nodes and surrounding tissue. But she beat the fucking thing, and I have never been so proud of anyone in my entire life – and that includes my failed self and all my successful children who never call because they hate me.)
When you insult my wife, you are degrading yourself. When I insult Lauren Stranahan, that’s JOURNALISM, because SCHMALFELDT. When you insult my mother, you are degrading yourself. When I insult Patrick Grady’s mother, wife and son, when I call Aaron Walker’s wife a mail order bride and suggest that she holds his wee wee when he urinates, that’s SATIRE, because SCHMALFELDT. And these are the people Hoge surrounds himself with because they feed his ego and make him feel like a big man. I don’t have any fans, so I have to strike my own ego, and anything else that needs stroking. Or lubrication. Whatever.
I’ve had it. AGAIN. I’m done. AGAIN. Like I said, I do not expect to win on January 30. AGAIN. But I am going to go down AGAIN, fighting.
Tomorrow, when I publish my perpetual motion machine, you will see that I am not going to fight nicely this time. AGAIN.
Try to at least act surprised by the depth and breadth of my ACME Legal nollidge.