Actually, that’s not quite true. I did learn that brevity is the soul of wit.
Silly me, I thought the soul of wit was to be, you know, FUNNY.
So, for the benefit of the slow, lazy F5 reader out there… FUCK YOU, YOU PATHETIC DROOLING IDIOT.
Brief enough for ya?
For the rest of you, the truly good stuff that flies over his head is after the jump.
We (the audience and I) have learned – well, I learned, the audience has understood from the very beginning – that every lawsuit ever filed or to be filed against WJJ HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! III is doomed to failure because everything proceeds as he has foreseen. He foresees the law. He foresees the facts. He foresees the failure of my arguments and the dreadful rhetoric of my pleadings. And he is not alone.
We (the audience and I) have learned that I am a Dreadful Pro-Se (and a dreadful writer, don’t forget about that…trying to affect the royal “WE?” Seriously? Could we (ROYAL “WE”) be more pretentious?) who are rightfully disdained by humanity for our many crimes against humanity and for our efforts to deflect attention from our evil deeds and those of Team Kimberlin by attempting so very unsuccessfully to identify the people who would hide behind the veil of anonymity to cause our butthurt. It is not the pain of the butthurt that concerns us, it is the evil of the person upon whom the butthurt lands, like a flaming projectile from an ancient trebuchet, as they attempt to rebuild the “sterling reputation” (HA! HA!HA!HA!) they spent the last several years destroying while also continuing their mammoth, never-ending faildox enterprise under the guise of protecting themselves and their family from the butthurt that would soon cease if only they would shut the fuck up and leave WJJ HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLOOOOOGE!!! III and his friends alone.
(See how quickly the royal “we” goes straight to shit? We should cut it right the fuck out forever. But we won’t.)
It could be too late for that, though.
We (the audience and I) have learned that we are not worthy, nor legally permitted, to offer assistance to the wife of an enemy. Because the letter of the law, the filing of a truly horseshit (AAAAAAUGH!! HORSESHIT!! SOMEONE MAILED US A TUB OF VILE, FILTHY HORSESHIT!! THAT WE FORCED OUR BELOVED WIFE TO OPEN!!! IT MADE US CRY!!! WHO SENT IT??? WAS IT MATT OSBORNE?? WEE WILLY FEE FEE (aka TURD) FERGUSON?? THEY KNOW ALL ABOUT THE “GIFTS” WE HAVE RECEIVED…IT MUST BE THEM!!! OR MAYBERRYVILLE, OR WJJ HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! III, OR HOWARD EARL, OR SILLY JILLY GILLY, OR “KREEEEEEENDLEEEEEEER!!!” OR ANY OF THE DOZENS OF LICKSPITTLES WHO LAUGH AT US EVERY DAY) lawsuit, the filing of an IPF motion begging to be allowed to sue these fools without having to break into our “beloved’s” savings account for a filing fee, of a properly adjudicated peace order, the hearing for which we foolishly determined we did not need to attend because LAW AM NOT LAW, SHMAWFELT AM LAW!, is more important than the life of our wife. (Did we mention we have terminal scleroderma and she has STAGE ELEVENTYSEVEN PARKINSON’S DISEASE? If we have, we don’t remember)
“Sure, Mrs. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!!, you have cancer. But I have a PEACE ORDER!”
We turn to the words of the Scottish Poet Robert Burns in his 1786 tome (a tome is defined as a large, thick book…we think we really mean pome, for two reasons: first, because the following excerpt is from a work just eight short stanzas long, and second, we can’t spell “pome” if you spot us the P,O and E), “To A Louse: On Seeing One On A Lady’s Bonnet In Church.”
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
When we drain the Scotch from that verse we end up with:
But what this verse really says is:
We wish for a power to give us this gift: Being able to see ourselves the way other people see us.
Fine poet, Robert Burns. Good cigars, too, at one time. But that’s a scary damn thought – “to see ourselves as others see us?” You mean, outside of our carefully constructed fantasy and in the cold, harsh light of reality?
NO. FUCKING. CHANCE.
And a very appropriate title to the poem. “Ode to a Louse.” Who is the louse? Is it WJJ HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! III, who couldn’t even wait 24 hours before filing a criminal charge (STATE’S ATTORNEY & POLICE AM NOT STATE’S ATTORNEY & POLICE. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! AM STATE’S ATTORNEY AND POLICE!!) for the three hundred sixty-eighth (368th) time against a DYYYYYING man who had just willfully chosen between staying safe and silent and within the law, and recklessly, stupidly, insanely, with malice and forethought and mayonnaise stained hands violating a peace order by offering ultimately useless information, which is the only kind of information we can offer?
No. The louse is us. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you that Mrs. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!!’s cancer is all about US!
WE WE WE WE WE! (all the way home!)
We saw it me oppratoonity (HULK SMASH!!!!) to fail once again to proofread. We also saw a genuine opportunity to BOTHER Hoge in the tranquility of his palatial manse (how we wish we had even a humble abode, twelve to fifteen levels of quality higher than the rattletrap tin can that we would never be able to sell to pay the filing fees for LULZsuit 2: Electric Boogaloo!) to offier information that might even lead to a PHONE CALL, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!, but nothing nearly so dramatic as the possibility of saving his wife’s life through our direct and HEEROIC EFFORTS, depending on the staging of the cancer. We wanted to take HER cancer and make it all about WE WE WE WE, because no way anyone will ever look at a living, healthy Mrs. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! again and not thank the Demented Cyberstalking Freak known as Brave Sir William of Skirtsflap, Lord High Duke of Co*ksnogging and the Seventh Earl of Bu**sex – who sat in wait, lurking the shadows, waiting for this opportunity to ruin HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!!’s domestic tranquility by offering deeply unnecessary, absolutely useless and completely unwanted assistance to his wife. His love for the woman is awe-inspiring – who wouldn’t want to protect his wife from unwanted contact by such a deeply disturbed individual such as ourselves? Oh, he keeps up appearances by not mentioning the reason this MENTAL DEFECTIVE broke the peace order by writing an e-mail to him, the e-mail that followed the “forged” letter that the MENTAL DEFECTIVE had sent in the mail. Clearly, the e-mail caused him distraction from his wife’s cancer, which was exactly our intent. Just look at the way he keeps his private life to himself instead of blogging and tweeting complaints of butthurt all day every day the way we do. Look at how he fails utterly to share every detail of their lives online, every trip to the store, every runaway dog, every faceplant caused by stress exacerbated by HORSESHIT!! See how he never refers to his wife except to assure his audience that, despite spending 14 hours of every day madly refreshing his Google Alerts, enemies’ blogs and Twitter timelines looking for a nice Jewish girl to dox, and the other 10 hours sleeping, that she is his “beloved.”
Oh, wait…that’s us.
Hi. We are Bill, and we are an over-sharer.
We are sure HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! writes glorious words about her, even love letters, in the privacy of his home. We’ll never know for certain. The closest we will ever get to his home is the Carroll County Jail. He certainly doesn’t write much about her on his blog. Perhaps she doesn’t want her personal life splashed all over the internet and made a source of ridicule and scorn the way our “beloved” insists that we do at every turn. No, his blog is for hating demented cyberstalking freaks, and for calling us names, and for publishing pictures of us as a malicious, mendacious, maniacal, malevolent, malcontent, merciless manatee.
What we did by breaking the peace order was a plain, simple, indisputable violation of black letter law. Only an idiot would do something so stupid, so we did. We were compelled to do so by some mysterious force…it must have been HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! who made us do it by giving his wife cancer. That’s like attempted murder, isn’t it? Who do we think we are, pretending to offer useless information gained during six years of make-work employment at the finest government-funded medical research facility in the world, asking pre-fabricated softball questions of scientists of world renown, failing to understand word one of the answers, pretending to make friends of folks like Dr. Anthony Fauci at the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases who we just called at work and were ever-so polite! We were chatting quite amicably with him until we mentioned our name and asked if it rang a bell with him. There was a pause, followed by…
CLICK!! (stupid bastard!)
We also remember chatting with Dr. Ezekiel Emmanuel (who is such a great pal’o’mine that I can’t spell his last name correctly…but then, I have trouble with my own sometimes, too, especially in legal documents) during his time as the head of the office of medical ethics at the NIH Clinical Center. He confused me. Isn’t ethics about threatening people to get them to tell you things you really have no right to know? He always told me he “didn’t understand my question, and why don’t you just go back to your desk now, Mr. – what did you say your name was?”
Where do we get off trying to intrude into the life of this family to offer our unsolicited, criminal assistance, just because we happened to occupy quite a lot of space in an office that coordinates getting participants for clinical trials and our really very most superficial acquaintance with a guy who might know another guy whose sister’s brother-in-law’s nephew’s girlfriend’s father with the gimpy leg and the huge goat-shaped birthmark over his eye who might — might — score some medical grade morphine at a 5% discount to deal with pain should Mr. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! decide he loved his wife enough to get her addicted to drugs. Our “beloved” takes some pill or other when she gets home every morning, but we don’t know what it is. She controls the coin purse with our little shriveled BBs in it, still under the gum wrappers and pocket lint. Getting someone medication without a prescription isn’t CRIMINAL, is it? No! It’s just being nice. Well, not yet, technically, because HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! never responded to my offer of help. He turned it over to the Carroll County State’s Attorney, who has to decide first if they want to prosecute (heads, they win…tails, we lose) these horrible things (this is the payoff for the royal “we”) for sending an email, with links, that the HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!!s could use to get information from the brightest medical minds that we could come up with as an excuse to violate the peace order, upset his life and court prison while trying to paint ourselves as the VICTIM HERE, BECAUSE YES, IT’S ALL ABOUT WE WE WE WE WE (all the way home).
We are bitterly ashamed of ourselves. We are…wait for it…wait for it…not amused (you knew it was coming, right? Sure you did). What were we thinking (other than that this was a perfect opportunity to violate the peace order with no valid reason for doing so, while painting HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!!’s certain dismissal of our clear bad-faith offer of help as a dick move even greater than our own gigantic dick move – and truly, there is no other context where those two words belong together in reference to us – of sending the email in the first place. The perception that we hold Mrs. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!!’s life in higher regard than our own freedom is more important than making sure that our own beloved is cared for in her rapidly advancing dotage)?
But we’ve learned our lesson. We will never again offer unsolicited assistance to a person who holds a Peace Order over us, a Peace Order that was legitimately adjudicated thanks to our monumental stupidity, a Peace Order, like all the others, gained through entirely legal means. We could get Peace Orders against people, too, if we weren’t so afraid of being confronted by our accusers that we run for the hills with skirts a-flapping in the breeze like the sniveling, sandy-pussed cowards we are.
We will continue to pray for Mrs. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! to be quickly delivered from the debilitating disease that her villainous spouse has infected her with. We also pray for a similar deliverance from the man himself. We have that prayer memorized from hearing our “beloved” whisper it each night through the wall between the bedroom and the living room where she actually sleeps…say, did we mention that our name is Bill, and we are an over-sharer?
But we have learned.
If we should happen to be in downtown Baltimore at the same time as Mr. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! as he crosses the street against the light with a FedEx truck barreling down on him, we shall remain true to the letter of the peace order and shout no warning, nor make any effort to shove him out of the way of the speeding truck that will, doubtless, spread his internal organs for half a city block.
If we shouted, “Look Out!” that would be a violation of the “no contact” order. And if we pushed him out of the way, no doubt this upright, decent man, who can love his wife AND help her battle a life-threatening illness AND be a quantum mechanic AND be a prolific blogger with a devoted following AND protect her from demented cyberstakling freaks like us because multitasking LIKE A BOSS VIKING is an actual thing, would seek to have us charged with assault in addition to violating the Peace Order.
“Fool us once…” as they say…
Nah… fool you !!1!!!11!ELEVENTYSEVENTHOUSAND1!!1!1ONE11!! times is more like it, Doctor Dickdento Maury 15.
You pathetic, drooling idiot.
Best of luck with the new LULZsuit, chump!