BC:AD

This was the moment when Before

Turned into After, and the future’s

Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing

Happened. Only dull peace

Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans

Could find nothing better to do

Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment

When a few farm workers and three

Members of an obscure Persian sect

Walked haphazard by starlight straight

Into the kingdom of heaven.

by U.A. Fanthorpe

Have a safe, blessed, FUN, and most merry Christmas.

…with all the tasty braaaaains you could wish for!

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Earworm Wednesday!

I wanted to finish the Christmas season with a nice, sick, hilarious little tune from Bob Rivers, in keeping with my warped sense of humor. But then I remembered one of my favorite Christmas tunes that isn’t really a Christmas tune at all. But it’s most surely an earworm.

So here they both are.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Here’s hoping the worst you get in your stocking is a lump of coal.

…not horse manure.

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In Which They Try to Kill Me (Attempt # EleventyBillionAndThirtySeven)

Oh Woes is Me! I have yet again begun to moan and groan and tally the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that are thrown at me daily from Hoooooggge in Westminster, MD.

Did you know that he has tried THREEHUNDREDANDSIXTYSEVEN TIMES already to get me thrown into jail? THREEHUNDREDSIXTYSEVEN!

Never mind that I made those 367 violations of the restraining order. The point is that HE KEEPS THROWING THEM AT MEEEEEEEE! Or is it because I keep mentioning them? Because that is just such an AWESOME NUMBER! I don’t know that I can ever beat that so I have to keep repeating it because it is just splendidly awesome and I am FULL of awesome sauce. Similar to mayonnaise but, well, you know.

And so I will tantrum. And act out. And keep going over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over it again and again and again and again and again and again on TWITTER (where I made the 367 violations!!!1!!1!) defending myself. Because no one listens to MEEEEEEEE.

And because I need validation. And attention. But we won’t talk about that. I want to talk about HOOOOOOGGGGEEEE!

Because he is DOING IT AGAIN! He is charging me with a violation of the peace order. You know, the one that he LIED to get! I mean, he told me that he wouldn’t seek to get it renewed if I kept to its conditions, but then again I went and did it again (OOPS!) (shut UP Britney!) and he went BEHIND MY BACK and got it renewed. Thats a LIE! A LIE of EPIC PROPORTIONS that I will FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER SHOUT ABOUT ON TEH INTERWEBZ AND TWITTER! Because that always works to get my message out. Because I am right and everyone else is wrong. Nevermind that I have dementia and you should never, EVER take me at my word, because, dementia. You know.

But this time, THIS TIME! I didn’t do it. I didn’t uncheck a checkbox. Me, who have used the WordPress Platform day in and day out for many, many moons, didn’t know that I had to uncheck a checkbox so that WORDPRESS! (those filthy bastards) would not notify Hoge that I was talking about him. Because that’s indirect contact which is against that GOD DAMN PEACE ORDER that he LIED TO GET!!!!

Don’t you see though? I DIDN’T DO IT! I DIDN’T SEND THE EMAIL! It’s right there! In PURPLE CRAYON! WORDPRESS SENT IT TO HIM!

I had nothing to do with it. Absolutely, positively nothing to do with it. Except that I know all about pingbacks. And how to prevent pingbacks. But I just couldn’t resist one poke at Hoge. Because I love the attention from him. He is my one, true, abiding love. I know I love him even more than Gail. I love him SO MUCH that I made a trailer about a full-length movie about how he is tormenting me. Madness and Revenge. Oh yes, so much madness and revenge. Because he doesn’t give me what I want so it builds my madness and my desire for revenge upon him just for existing to ever greater heights. Which is what I’m sure he wants because he needs me just as much too.

But I need him. His man love. His admission that he loves what I do. What I do to him. What I can provide for him. And the the mayonnaise. Oh, we can’t forget that. Because that makes everything taste ever so nice and so smooth. Mmmmmm….

But this is all part of him trying to kill me. Because he wants me held in contempt. Just like the THREEHUNDREDANDSIXTYSEVEN times previously. He wants me in jail so that I can be kept in torment from being unable to seek his love. I will fall down and hit my head in jail and have worse than the rug burn I got when I got startled by awful stench of the tub-o-horseshit (oh wait, was it actually the dog that distracted me? I don’t remember, but anyway…) that I am STILL having investigated by the FBI and other USPSIS organizations. Because I NEED TO KNOW THAT IT WAS HOGE! Because there is proof there somewhere, somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight, that Hoge is thinking of me and loving me tonight….

So we will meet in court again. So that I can court him. And he can court me. And we can do the dance, except this time without the THREEHUNDREDANDSIXTYSEVEN contempt charges. This time it’s just one. ONLY ONE??!?!?!! I’m sure that there were more somewhere that he could have used too. And I think that I’m more upset than anything else that it’s just one thing. But I’ll take what I can get. True love never did run smooth.

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Now Here's Something To Consider

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Maybe he doesn’t want you in jail. Maybe, like so many others, he just wants you to

STOP CONTACTING HIM.

And maybe, just maybe, he has finally realized that patience and grace and forgiveness and Christian charity are wasted on evil people. Maybe he has reached the conclusion that the only way to get you to

STOP CONTACTING HIM

is to put you somewhere where you have no choice but to

STOP CONTACTING HIM.

We haven’t spoken on this subject, but if it were me, it wouldn’t have to be jail; a mental hospital would be just fine. A cabin in the mountains with no internet access would be fine, too. A nice, secluded island with a manual typewriter and an endless supply of paper would be all right. Someplace nice, with all the comforts of home except one – the electronic access that would force you to

STOP CONTACTING HIM

is all that I would need.

But I won’t lie. Seeing you in jail would be FUN.

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It Wasn't Me!! It Was the One-Armed Mailman!

I have not contacted Hoge John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt directly, indirectly, through telepathy, in the dream world, through a wormhole or any other means.

I wrote a blog post letter about how Hoge Schmidt was copying from my blog a book in violation of the copyright settlement. I posted a link to included the page number of the offending post passage.

WordPress program The United States Postal Service saw the link letter, and THEY notified delivered Hoge Schmidt the post and the link letter. Not me. Them. But that isn’t the issue here.

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I Don't Have to Imagine, There's a Perfect Example Available

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I KNOW, RIGHT?

I mean, don’t you have to feel for a guy who’s so brain dead that he can’t recognize a fictional parody even when the piece is explicitly identified and labeled as such before the piece begins? And what makes it even worse (and by “worse” I mean MORE EPICALLY GOD DAMN RIOTOUSLY FUNNY) is that the same fool who missed (and by “missed” I mean IGNORED COMPLETELY IN ORDER TO CONSTRUCT A SPECTACULARLY FALSE SET OF ASSUMPTIONS TO JUSTIFY HIS “I JUST SAT ON A WHOLE CHRISTMAS TREE, VERTICALLY” CASE OF BUTTHURT) that fact so badly that he literally tried to make federal case of it, not once, but TWICE??

Imagine being such a dunce that you can’t tell the difference between the shitty (and yeah, that word choice is LOADED WITH PURPOSE) satire you write, produce and perform, versus someone else’s gigantic mockery of you and anyone else who thinks you have ever been funny.

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