Turn on the oven to 375°

Take some flour, some salt and some baking soda.  Mix them in a bowl and put them aside for a bit.

In a big mixing bowl, put a couple sticks of butter, some white sugar, some brown sugar, and some vanilla extract.  Whip that up until it’s creamy.

Drop in a couple eggs and mix that up.  Now it’s a little runny.

Start folding in the the dry stuff in the bowl that you had set aside.  It starts to thicken up and get – well, what other word can you use? – doughy.

Now stir in a bag of chocolate chips.  Maybe a bag and a half.  Some nuts, if you like that sort of thing.

Get your cookie sheet out, and drop spoonfuls of that dough on there and bake them up for 9-10 minutes.

Try not to gorge the raw dough, them raw eggs will do you in.

What comes out of the oven?  I’ll tell you what doesn’t come out of the oven:

  • Flour does not come out of the oven
  • Salt does not come out of the oven
  • Baking soda does not come out of the oven
  • Butter does not come out of the oven
  • White sugar does not come out of the oven
  • Brown does not come out of the oven
  • Vanilla extract does not come out of the oven
  • Eggs do not come out of the oven
  • Chocolate chips do not come out of the oven
  • Nuts do not come out of the oven

(Those last two may be a bit of a metaphorical stretch)

What you have are Tollhouse cookies.

You don’t taste flour, salt, baking soda, butter, sugar, brown sugar, vanilla extract or eggs. You do taste chocolate and nuts, but they’re integral to the cookie, right?

You don’t taste that stuff, but guess what?

It’s in there.





If I wanted to look at a textbook freak out meltdown, I’d read the archived tweets from when you sent yourself a Tupperware full of horse poop, or when the letter you forgot you sent to John showed up.

THOSE were some epic meltdowns.

And FUN.


What Did I just Say??

Did I not say, just two short days ago:

Supposed indignities done to you are responsive. Families are off-limits, remember? Except when it suits you…because. Just, because. But The Bells of St. Stupid, once you ring them, toll on whether you wish it or not. And if families are off-limits until it no longer suits you FOR WHATEVER REASON…then families are off-limits until it no longer suits me.


You don’t feel the need to clear it with the families you attack. Why should I? If your reasons are good enough for you…mine are good enough for me. And if you don’t like it, well…

If you are offended by anything you read here , I might suggest that you not visit here again. If you do, and are offended again, that will be your fault… not mine.

So when this shows up on Twitter:

It gets ARCHIVED. And by the time a DUMBFUCK remembers that it forgot to ask this question:

“Is there any way that this could be used to make fun of me if I post it?”

It’s too late.

Post-It notes will save your ass.

Likewise, when a post containing the same image shows up in a blog…


And The Bells of St. Stupid can never be unrung

And then look what happens!  With the sure and certain inevitability of a ticking FUCK-YOU-YOU’RE-NOT-THE-BOSS-OF-ME-ASHCAN-CLOCK…

I’ll say this for Oedipus Rex – he was a baaaaaad mutha – Shut yo’ mouth! I’m just talkin’ ’bout Oedipus!

Because today, somebody put FAMILIES ON THE TABLE!

And as a final note, let’s remember something very important – THIS IS MY BLOG.

If you are offended by anything you read here , I might suggest that you not visit here again. If you do, and are offended again, that will be your fault… not mine.

Oh, I was mistaken…THIS is the final, final note:

I kinda wonder what happened that set a DUMBFUCK off…didn’t a DUMBFUCK recently say “As long as people keep their filth inside their own blogs and not in my comment section, or on my Twitter timeline, or on my Facebook account, folks will have nothing to worry about.”

But this post indicates the DUMBFUCK is all hysterical over something on someone else’s blog, someone else’s comment section, someone else’s Twitter timeline, someone else’s Facebook account!

But that…Simply. Cannot. Be.

So…what showed up in its comment section, or on its Twitter timeline, or on its Facebook account to bunch up ol’ Chafeycrotch Sandybritches? (hi Grace!)

Inquiring minds want to know! 

I don’t really give an actual fuck…but I bet the lies a DUMBFUCK would spew as justification would be LULZY.



Bill Schmalfeldt (Google Alert Level: BUTTHURT) Said:

I will share the things I want to share. If you are offended by anything you read here, I might suggest that you not visit here again. If you do, and are offended again, that will be your fault… not mine.

Wow, I think he’s only tried to ply this “Do as I say, not as I cyberstalker” line about two hundred forty seven time previously. I predict he will follow this advice with the precise level of self-awareness that he has displayed throughout the rest of his miserable life.  By which I mean, NOT. AT. ALL.

Because double standards much?

I suppose props are called for here because he has decided not to use a pseudonym anymore…except on Twitter, where he is @liberalgrouch16. Though I’m sure he would proudly use @BillSchmalfeldt if that handle weren’t still under PERMANENT SUSPENSION.


Please, though…don’t let the fact that only about half the Twitter handles this nice old retired man has ever used are also suspended change your mind about him. Seriously – when you first meet this guy, and that little nauseous feeling starts in your stomach, and the creeping chill climbs up your spine, and you have a sudden inexplicable urge to run screaming for the nearest police station…listen to those feelings.  Don’t let him try to change your mind.

What’s even more hilarious is that poor DUMBFUCK knows his writing is offensive (and that’s separate from the actual content, remember) and doesn’t give a shit.

He’s not upset by that.  He’s upset when people LAUGH AT HIS EFFORT, because only he doesn’t know how bad he sucks at it.

Ah, well.  What can you do but stretch those LULZ muscles?

If you are offended by anything you read here, I might suggest that you not visit here again. If you do, and are offended again, that will be your fault… not mine.

Generally, DUMBFUCKS would lead happier lives if they took the advice they gave. Maybe if they thought “Hmm…will a day ever come when I need to delete this?” BEFORE hitting the post button  that would help too.

Just My Opinion.


So What I Hear Him Saying Is…

He’s NOT okay with his pro se pal Brett Kimberlin being an admitted forger and fabricator of evidence?

Because, you know…DOUBLE STANDARDS, right?

Someone seems a little manic tonight…perhaps the choice between giving himself his shots and taking his pills fell the wrong way?


“I Know I Am, But What Are You?”

…also known as…

Two Cokes

Find a lawyer.

Show him the complaint.

Be ready to write a big check.

There aren’t really 21 ‘O’s in Hoge.


The Composting of the Blogs

So that all whining about rebranding might end,

and not at all because I am being sued

I have redirected every blog I currently operate to this blog.

Which is registered in Wisconsin, where I have lived since August 2015, and not Maryland, where I don’t live any more. Just forget about all those other blogs I used to have that were registered in Maryland when I was violating the settlement agreement between John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt and myself. They’ve all been deleted and actually they never even existed and you are all just crazy. #shithouserat

This one master blog. – the only blog I have ever, ever had. 

This blog.

Because I don’t have any other blogs. Especially not with a registration in Maryland, where the settlement agreement between John Schmidt and me is enforceable.

Every link to any other blog should bring you straight away to this blog.

But I don’t have any other blogs where any violations of the settlement agreement never happened. Because those blogs never existed. So why would there be any other links to bring you to this blog? What are you, an idiot?

This one.

Not Patriotic-Ombudsman. Not Liberally Grouchy. Not Turdsniffers’R’Us. Not Zombie Andrew Breitbart. Not The Gimpy Weeper. Not Apocalypse Gazette. Not Cub Scout Parody Records. Not Toddlerstalker Today. That was some other Bill Parvocampus. Not me.

Right here. This one. – registered right here in the good ol’ Badger State of Wisconsin for nearly two whole days!

OK? Thanks.

Oopsie Poopsie (hence the title).