…will be slightly delayed this morning.
Shall we break down the latest Feldtdown?
That would be Pro Tip number 2, I should think, right after spelling YOUR OWN NAME correctly! Would you agree, Mr. Paragraph 83?
Yours, too! For about the ten millionth time! Did you?
Of course not. You want to fight until somebody dies, so you can BLAAAAAME somebody.
How’s the “beloved?” Been spending a lot of quality time with her, hmm?
You? Sad and miserable? Who would ever have thought that?
And why would you so “gladly oblige him?” Why would you not, as you have said, be devoting yourself to “time with Gail is the most important thing to me, now more than ever?”
Oh, wait, now I remember. Because you are a lying monkey vulva who hates John Hoge more than you love your own dying wife!
Gee, why does that sound so familiar?
Cool! Can I have nexties?
I suppose it shouldn’t come to that, but how else are you going to prove to the intrepid internet reporters who write for money (totally unsubtle hint to the Zombie Horde!) when they come asking tenacious questions about why you felt the need to punch your dying wife so hard that it causes that sort of disfigurement? By the way, you have until close of business Eastern Time today to prove me wrong or you will force me to go ahead with my quite reasonable assumption that you beat the crap out of your wife because she left the mayonnaise jar open on the kitchen counter again, and that the last time she did it is the reason behind that lovely wandering eye.
Okay? Great. Look forward to seeing those pictures then, before 5 PM.
Not even a tiny bit surpised that a serial liar and document alterer like yourself is so intimately familiar with the penalties for those crimes.
Of course, those are only the STATUTORY penalties. I understand from observing your most excellent friend that most courts don’t give a ratfuck about perjured evidence and, to an almost obscene degree of negligence, enforce that law with all the judicial fervor of a legally obtained peace order.
Bring what? A danish? A sheriff’s deputy with a summons and a fresh diaper?
Over a barrel? AGAIN?!? What is this, the !!1!!!!111!!ELEVENTYth11!!!11!!! time you’ve had him over a barrel? He must be really skeered this time.
And by the way: 21 ‘O’s in hooooooooooooooooooooneypot.
Who’s we, pudding-brain? You’re gonna get your genius Pretendy Land lawyer Mark in MD to represent you?
Oopsie poopsie…forgot. He already does, doesn’t he? With your hand up his wooly sockpuppet ass.
And the prospect of you trying to get that accomplished is so very tempting. Might be worth a trip north to watch.
UPDATE – I notice that wife-beating sack of spongy penis meat missed his deadline this afternoon, making him, by his own stated standard of “evidence,”an admitted and confirmed domestic abuser. Who am I to argue with the Pro Tips and dirty tricks of the American Society of Professional Journalists? Their legendary Code of Ethics stands as a beacon of Truth, Justice and Fairness; a set of ethical precepts I would follow as closely as he did, if only I were real boy and not a top hat wearing cricket with a journalism degree from the Cracker Jack Box School of Pretentious, Fact-Deficient Crypto-Fabulism.
But it’s nice to have a “confirmed fact” in hand even so.