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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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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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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Two Words, DUMBFUCK:

Rent. Free.

Also, LANGSTON, if getting called out with pointage, laughery and mockification as the shitposting idiot you are bothers you, there’s a very simple solution:

Stop posting.

I’ve already told you I’m going to mock you for as long as you continue to appear online, you impotent narcissist. Did you think I wasn’t serious?

Don’t like it?

Sue me.

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Good Morning, DUMBFUCK!

Oh, I don’t know…maybe Pfizer did some extensive market research and found a high percentage of alleged Parkinson’s patients see their symptoms come and go with such regularity that it’s easy to conclude they are simply faking the disease to make themselves look like victims.

Seems reasonable to me.

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You Know What I Love?

I love when a DUMBFUCK tries to insult someone’s intelligence, only to lace up the golf cleats once more and stomp his crank by fucking up the movie reference, making himself look like the idiot he is.

Stupid motherfucker.

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I Bet I Know What They Wouldn’t Find

DUMBFUCK DNA mixed with feline vaginal secretions. Final Fantasy: The Resistance ain’t gonna play itself, ya know.

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