Good Morning, DUMBFUCK!

The projection is strong in you, young 8 time FAILSUIT LOSER. You’re gonna take wives, cars and houses! But you can’t even hold on to your own.

I’m still waiting for the cops to pick me up, you loudmouth idiot.

I saw a story recently about a guy with a 9 cm diameter air pocket where his brain is supposed to be – how did you manage to convince them not to identify you?

Maybe I’ll have to plan a little golf getaway to Myrtle Beach next month. any other Zombie duffers want to join me?

Good thing you’re in Albuquerque, amirite?

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“I’ve Given All That Up,” He Says

Of course you have, DUMBFUCK.

Of course you have.

We are all you have.

Well…us, and fantasies of raping Cub Scouts around the campfire.

Why did you have to move from Iowa to North Dakota, again? I really doubt it was because The Giant made a great career leap in the field of janitorial arts.

And if you’re really wondering how you can honor Mom’s legacy in the time you have left, may I make a humble suggestion? Why not poop on a kitchen chair and then take The Cure? A nice, big exit wound out the top of your dick-dented hat rack would be a beautiful gesture.

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Someone’s Upset

Why would Bill Schmalfeldt be upset that a vulgar, crude man speaks in vulgar crude language?

Or maybe he’s bothered that another man has expressed “great love and affection” for a category of folks in which Bill Schamlfeldt so clearly belongs?

Come out, Bill! It’s okay to be gay!

Just keep the pursuit of Cub Scouts to a minimum.

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“I’m Just Not As Into Him As He Is With Me-Me-MEEEEEEEEE!!”

Also, check out my Twitter Feldtdown whinging about this person who doesn’t matter to me SO MUCH that I read his blog every fucking day.

 

 

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Has It Been TWO YEARS Already?

Good grief.

“Vain obsession?”

Says the pot with THIRTEEN RESTRAINING ORDERS!

How quickly he forgets that I never delete ANYTHING.

He had his chances. For nearly two years all he needed to do was walk away, and I would have disappeared. But he couldn’t do it, the racist, woman-hating, disability faking coward. Even at the moment of his “soulmate”‘s passing, he was checking email and moderating comments in the next room.

So I finally accepted that he would never walk away.

Oh, the self-awareness makes me dizzy!

Two (or four, or six) can play that game, though. And by his rules, continue to kick his ass.

But never let it be said that I was unwilling to give a sporting chance!

A shade over two years ago, I made one final offer.  I told him if he could eat a Carolina Reaper* (a mere 1.89 million Scoville units) and post the full video by February 15, 2016, I would delete this blog ON THE SAME DAY. I knew he would never do it.

No video was posted, and The Thinking Man’s Zombie endures.

And now he is out of options. Even a coyote will sacrifice a limb to get out of a trap, but Bill’s just a monkey with his hand stuck in a jar.

He lacks the smarts to solve this problem, and he compounds it by thinking he’s earned the treat in the jar just by knowing it’s there.

If you want to know why Paul Krendler continues, the answer is simple:

Murum aries attigit.


*Isn’t the name of that pepper doubly ironic now that he has relocated to South Carolina for a new fiancé, I mean sweetie, whoops, that should probably read Captive Nurse 2.0 by now, after causing (in my opinion) his soulmate’s death by failing to mobilize the vaunted resources of his massive Rolodex of contacts at the National Institutes for Health?

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Back In the Game, Using His Own Name?

Before all else, I want to tip my hat to Sonoran Conservative for his excellent commentary on the Bill Schmalfeldt rant below.  If you haven’t already checked it out, I recommend you do so.

I have a somewhat different take, which I was unable to address yesterday thanks to real world commitments.

After the complete rant, read on:

Yes, Aaron. I was “misdiagnosed” by an expert on the subject 18 years ago today. In that time I learned how to fake misfiring neurons in my brain to FOOL doctors who were doing my deep brain stimulation. But the Hogewash Neurology Council says I’m faking it. How can one argue?

A man who cleans the dogshit from his wife’s kennels is also an expert on progressive neurological disorders? Imagine my surprise. Now scoop up that shit, Doggy Style before your wife gets sore!

Seems to me that if anyone seriously believes I am faking my diagnosis, they owe it to the taxpayers to contact the Office of Personnel Management and DEMAND that they review my case. Contact Social Security, too. Be ready to identify yourself and provide proof. Cowards. #DARE!

I’m sure that the professionals at OPM and Social Security will be more than happy to take the word of anonymous cowards and a shit-encrusted kennel cleaner over the evidence obtained from actual medical professionals. Trump-sucking morons!

Now, before Hoggy’s soft-skulled amen choir goes running to the OPM and Social Security to disclose the “fraud” they say I am perpetrating on the government, a word of advice. They won’t listen to anonymous people. And providing false info to a federal agency is a felony. Ready?

I mean, if you are SURE I am “faking” my 18-year struggle with Parkinson’s, how can you call yourself a PATRIOT if you let me get away with it? You OWE it to AMERICA to turn me in. Step up, state your name, provide your proof. Unless you are afraid. You aren’t AFRAID, are you?

My God, such a rich lode of Slovenian horse crap! Where do I begin?

Continue reading “Back In the Game, Using His Own Name?”

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But He’s On YOOOOUUUUUUUR Side!

REBRANDING IS IMMINENT.

I REPEAT, REBRANDING IS IMMINENT!

Oh, and Twitter’s about to get sued for butthurt.

h/t to commenter Ipen.

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Less Than Twelve Hours This Time!

9:20 PM PST…

…to 9:01 AM PST.

Apparently “withdraw[ing] from public view” suits him about as well as does “self awareness,” “telling the truth,” “being a real journalist,” “not stalking and harassing people” and “having Parkinson’s disease.”

He just can’t make it stick.

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Insane By His Own Admission

…but don’t you dare call him a “deranged cyberstalker,” because that’s DEFAMATION!!

Oh, wait.

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Um, Roy?

Was it a dude? Because that is quite a lot worse. Just ask Kevin Spacey.

I mean, Hollywood hasn’t airbrushed Roman Polanski away, have they?

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