You Mad, Bro?

Yeah, he mad.

Come on, you DUMBFUCK, if you think mud can fly in both directions, go ahead and sling away! You haven’t ever been close to throwing in my direction, owing to tour deluded obsession with the vanished Patrick Grady.

When was he last heard from, anyway? I’m sure it’s pinned up on your conspiracy wall.

Tell us, Projection Boy, was it when he traveled to Maryland to fight a peace order while you peed your skirts in fear? Or was it when you curb-rubbed your tires to death and filed a false police report before fleeing into the waiting arms of Woody Woodchipper the Great Inflatable Soulmate?

Tell us please, you Superbad 8 Time LOLSUIT Failure, all about the fire and brimstone you will rain down upon me, whom you can’t even identify.

If you think I’m laughing at you, if you think I’m having FUN…

You’re absolutely goddamn right!

But to be perfectly serious for just a moment: I’m just one Zombie. There are THOUSANDS more people laughing at you. I really wish you were just 1% as smart as you think you are, because if you were, you might stand a chance of finding all the encrypted butthurt the internet can offer you, and then witnessing your impotent rage would be like driving a Ferrari instead of a refurbished Yugo.

As you continue building your lifelong legacy of #EPICFAIL, please at least try to entertain me.

It might not be the very least you can do, but it’s in the bottom 3.

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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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The Answer to Your Burning Strawman, DUMBFUCK…

is “YES.”

And you’re too fucking stupid to know why. (Don’t forget, truth is an absolute defense against a defamation claim. So, as it turns out, is lack of personal jurisdiction.)

#virtuesignaling #DUMBFUCK #punchingup

P.S. It’s worth noting that by the same logic, Gail Schmalfeldt would be a lot LESS dead if her soulmate hadn’t spent so much time chasing white whales on the internet…

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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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No One Expects the REBRANDING!

Translation:

Because the Peckerwrecker has threatened to kick me out if I don’t, I am ending my association with @breitbartunmask and REBRANDING!! effective immediately, instead of waiting until she dies in a puddle up to her armpits of her own waste, like I did in 2015 with what’s-her-name. (Don’t worry though – “Langston Hews” remains on staff, at least until I come up with a new yet equally transparent and stupid pseudonym.) I thank them for giving me the opportunity to spread my unwashed ass cheeks and crap all over their website and contribute to the destruction of what remains of their reputation, just as I have thoroughly dismantled my own. I wish them good luck in cleaning up the remains of what once had the potential to be a web presence as truly useless as Crooks and Liars.

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Juvenile? Yes. Comedy? No.

Was that song recorded by DUMBFUCK Bill Schmalfeldt and His Shadow Band?

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#Resistance Diet

I recall this coming from an old advice column (either Dear Abby or Ask Ann Landers, I don’t remember which), but considering the toll that Year One of Trump has obviously taken on the #ResistWeMuch movement, I thought this “Stress Diet” ought to be renamed the “#Resistance Diet” and shared anew:

#RESISTANCE DIET

BREAKFAST

1/2 grapefruit
1 slice whole wheat bread
8 oz. skim milk

LUNCH

4 oz. broiled chicken breast
1 C steamed zucchini
1 Oreo cookie
1 C herbal tea

MIDAFTERNOON SNACK

Rest of the package of Oreos
1 qt Rocky Road ice cream
1 jar hot fudge
1 can of whipped cream

DINNER

2 loaves garlic bread
1 large pepperoni & mushroom pizza
2 bottles of wine
3 large candy bars
1 frozen cheesecake eaten directly from the open freezer, without utensils

#RESISTANCE DIET TIPS

  1. If no one sees you eat it, it has no calories.
  2. If you drink a diet soda with a candy bar, they will cancel each other out everywhere except your rotting maw, which is going to get fixed. Any day now.
  3. Calories don’t count if you eat with someone else, as long as you both eat the same amount.
  4. Food taken for medicinal purposes does not count. This includes hot chocolate, brandy, toast, Johnnie Walker (any color), Sara Lee chocolate cake, Baker’s Square pie and and milkshakes where bananas might be in the same room as the blender.
  5. If you hang around people fatter than you, you will look thinner.
  6. Snacks consumed during movies do not count because they are part of the entertainment experience. These include Milk Duds, Goobers, Raisinets, Junior Mints, Gummi Bears, popcorn with butter, Twizzlers, Skittles and M&Ms.
  7. Broken cookies contain no calories because all the calories have escaped.
  8. All the calories in a bag of chocolate chips are contained in a single morsel, so find that one and throw it away before starting. Don’t just set it aside. Remember, all your energy for #resisting should be dedicated to Trump, not Temptation.
  9. Late night snacks are also calorie free. The light from the refrigerator is not strong enough for the calories to find their way into the calorie counter. However, do be wary of turning on other lights in the kitchen.

#CandylandResists!!

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