“I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.”
You know…for a zombie, I’m not as mindless as you might think.
I pay attention…
And not surprisingly, I learn many interesting things.
For instance, I continue to hear from various corners (Twitter, commenters who receive unwanted emails, the odd transcript of a podcast that someone with a stronger stomach than I have was brave enough to listen to), that there’s a laughable DUMBFUCK out there with plans to find out who I am, to get me and to make me stop doing this. Like a broken record – “Give me Krendler…/Give me Krendler…/Give me Krendler…”
Nobody can give you Krendler because nobody knows who Krendler is. Ha. Ha. And motherfucking HA!!
In any case, this seems like an opportune moment to try to PREVAIL UPON THIS DUMBFUCK TO SEE THE FOLLY OF SUCH ACTIVITY.
To do this, I think it’s wise to examine a bit of history.
A bit more than a year ago, a lawsuit was settled. I was a party to that lawsuit but no one ever served me. It seems DUMBFUCK—much like today!—didn’t know who I was. After that settlement was signed, the other party, whose record of truthfulness and personal integrity stands like Everest next to the pebble that is a DUMBFUCK, asked that those of us who had been making shred of DUMBFUCK’S online presence desist to give it a chance to fulfill its pledge to change its behaviors.
So, in good faith, I did.
It didn’t last a week. It decided to write a book about me. So…
FUCK THAT FUCKING DUMBFUCK WITH A FUCKING FENCEPOST. WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE AND ROLLED IN DOGSHIT.
I don’t delete my blog posts. I don’t delete from Twitter. I don’t swap sites back and forth like an ambidextrous masturbation addict switches hands. I still have all the comments it dropped in moderation, pretending to talk with other people who couldn’t see what it was saying. I still have all the screen caps of all the stupid Tweets it has sent from those days to this.
DUMBFUCK once made the mistake of poking me after I had chosen to leave it in peace.
And one chance is all it gets.
So now, as before, there are terms that must be met.
Now, as before, this is not a negotiation.
Now, as before, if the poor whining titty-baby wants to be left alone, here’s the path:
- It surrenders and slinks off the field like the cowardly weasel it is;
- I stand victorious, absorbing the accolades of the cheering throngs;
- After a fortnight of celebration in my camps, coinciding with a fortnight of complete silence from its camp, I withdraw to the border status quo ante, to take up watch;
- If it remains silent, it remains free, but at the VERY FIRST HINT of a desire to renew hostilities with ANYBODY, I rejoin the battle and once again bring all my energy and resources to bear.
We just keep going like we are now.
I dropped my sword and walked away once, at the request of John Hoge.
IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. NEVER.
Murum aries attigit.
So you’ll pardon me if I respond to its whining that it only wants to be left alone with a) a 50 lb bag of rock salt, b) a hale and hearty GFY, and c) a requirement of 100% compliance with my terms as a condition of its surrender. It does not get to dictate the terms on which it loses. The ONLY POSSIBLE WAY I stop fighting is if it rolls over, shows its defenseless belly and takes a two week unlimited beatdown. After which…I simply go away.
Fool me once, shame on DUMBFUCK. Fool me twice, shame on me.
If it tries to negotiate, the beat goes on.
If it questions, the beat goes on.
If it bothers anyone else, even somebody I don’t know or care about, the beat goes on.
If it cannot figure out how to control itself, the beat goes on.
If it wants it to stop, then all it has to do is stop. Arsenic is going to keep killing you IF YOU DON’T STOP DRINKING IT.
All it has to do is quit and weather the shame of it for 2 weeks, probably less. Easy enough if it just powers down and gets a library card. If it ‘s half as intelligent as it thinks, it knows it is going to have to take that hit – it will come regardless, and I don’t have any power over what people say on Twitter. Yes, I do have power over the comments here, but I made a conscious decision to allow exactly the kind of comments it decries, including from DUMBFUCK. I will not change that policy to suit it or anyone else. It dug its own hole here, and it hastened its own exit after being given every chance. It didn’t care enough to answer one question. Its choice. Its action. Its consequence. Its responsibility.
a “truce?” off the battlefield?
Now it has been once more reminded how to get it. In the end it’s a simple choice between easy and hard. It can take the easy route and quit, or it can take the hard way and try to make me quit.
If it thinks there’s a third choice, I suggest that Howard Earl may have an option worth exploring.
Now, as before, I hope I have not been unclear.
And if it doesn’t like the terms that were set a year ago, here’s a bit of turnabout from its response at that time (and consider how well that has worked out):
Blow me. And stand by. And when what happens next happens, whenever it happens, DUMBFUCK, remember. You had the opportunity to avoid it.