You Know What Just Occurred To Me…

I don’t feel like blogging anymore. I will continue to program my station on Radionomy (it’s free). But Summer’s almost here. There’s the lake, festival season, beer gardens and fun to be had.

I foresee much festive, late night drunk-blogging and drunk-tweeting from southeast Wisconsin in the coming months.

More than usual, I mean.

FUN!

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Author: Paul Krendler

The Thinking Man’s Zombie

11 thoughts on “You Know What Just Occurred To Me…”

  1. So wait - the totally disabled PD infested widower is going to festivals, beer gardens and the lake?

    I can hear it now - "Mommy! That whale beached itself! And it's pooping all over the place! Gross!!"

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    1. The few folks I've known in the past who were (for realz!) "totally disabled" with "Advanced Stage Eleventy Parkinson's Disease" were in no way capable of attending festivals and/or beer gardens (nor take strolls around a lake). No such thing would have ever crossed their minds. The effort to even go to a necessary doctor's appointment was overwhelming, and on some days even an outing such as that proved nearly impossible.

      Besides... who goes to festivals and beer gardens by themselves? The Deranged Cyberstalker Bill Schmalfeldt has no friends or family who care to spend time with him. Heck. It wasn't all that long ago he was attempting on Facebook to guilt those he knows for their unwillingness to even make the smallest of efforts to come and visit him in his Mangina Cave -- like they're going to opt to spend the time to stroll around festivals/beer gardens with the whiny, annoying Blob. *eyeroll*

      And, who is kidding who here? As if the Stalking Sociopath Bill Schmalfeldt would even tear himself away from his sticky keyboard long enough to actually go out into the real world.

      The entirety of BS's life exists on his computer monitor. Pathetic and deranged.

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  2. "There’s the lake, festival season, beer gardens and fun to be had."

    Those are code words:
    - "There's the lake" ie: camping, which means Cub Scouts
    - "festival season" ie: sitting around a campfire
    - "beer gardens" ie: beer make you pee
    - "and fun to be had" ie: I won't go there

    So in essence the Scooter Puff King is talking about homoerotic adventures with Cub Scouts again.

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  3. "Hello Johnnie Walker, it's me! Your old buddy. Let's kill some brain cells together. Preferably all of it if I have any left."

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  4. People say things about Witless that he thinks are mean, but he never SERIOUSLY asks whether they are true statements or sincere opinions. Has he ever disparaged, attacked, or threatened LIVING wives? If so, might that explain why no one sympathizes with him about his dead wife? After all, nothing sublunar said about his dead wife can ever cause her a moment's grief. He is not asking anything real for her: he is using her as a proxy to garner sympathy toward himself.

    Do I feel sympathy for Witless? If I don't, why might that be? Can he make me feel guilt or shame if I feel no sympathy for what purports to be a human being? Did it never occur to him that I might believe him hopelessly subhuman and not worthy of any respect or sympathy?

    Socrates said that the unexamined life was not worth living. In Willie's case, I fear that if anyone were to examine his life in its totality, that life would be found not worth living despite being examined.

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  5. the only fun our lovable bucket of pig drool enjoys is fucking with others.
    he's a thief, and a lair, and would steal your garden rake out of your garage if he thought he could get away with it.
    He's also a drama queen.

    I just can't imagine that hes not totally pissed that hes had to give up dancing around the internet yard in his muumuu and clown hat, screaming at the top of his lungs.

    Maybe he found a gay bar on the lake-shore where he finally gets paid for popping ping pong balls out of his rectum.
    (I'd pay to see that)

    Also, can anyone confirm that DF and that Ferguson freak met on Ginder while looking for under aged boy scouts?
    Email me. I have the press asking questions.

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  6. Then quit fucking blogging you impenetrable moron.

    And your stupid net casts (not radio you idjit), are absolutely not free. It costs people irreplaceable lifespan and significant pain to listen to them.

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