Good Morning, DUMBFUCK!

A friendly Zombie deserves the credit this morning for this gem.

I couldn’t have done better myself.

Doesn’t mean I won’t try.

Mad undead props to The Dread Pirate Zombie, whoever you are!😘

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How Much Dumb Could a DUMBFUCK Fuck

…if a DUMBFUCK could fuck dumb?


Here’s a choice excerpt from Mark Singer’s memoir/pseudo-biography Citizen K: The Deeply Weird American Journey of Brett Kimberlin: 

 

At Oxford [a federal prison in Wisconsin] he was assigned as a quality-control clerk at a prison factory that manufactured cables for military aircraft and tanks.

Each day, he said, he did his work quickly and then tried to immerse himself in a book, but the prison guard who was his overseer objected to his reading on the job. When he persisted, the guard threatened to give him a “shot” — to write an incident report that could lead to disciplinary action. So he stopped bringing a book to work, he said, and instead devoted his spare time to sabotage. “I’d run the cable through quality control,” he said. “I’d check them. I’d sign off on them. And then I’d cut some of the damn wires.”

   

 

So proud of its military service that it will defend a greasy turd who admits to deliberately sabotaging military equipment and placing the lives of other Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines in jeopardy. 


HONOR. COURAGE. COMMITMENT. 


Have I got that right?

 

But it’s ok. They’re not “BFF” or “besties” nor even “good friends”. Just DUMBFUCK defending “some guy” who SABOTAGED equipment and put other military service members’ lives in jeopardy.


DUMBFUCK is cool with that, though.  It isn’t bothered by such youthful indiscretions, and after all, he’s paid his debt to society (except for the remaining – what? 15 years of parole?).  And why would DUMBFUCK be bothered?  Its life wasn’t on the line.  It’s not even as if someone accused it of whoring out its own wife for $650 an hour, right? It didn’t impact DUMBFUCK at all! So why should it care about Brett Kimberlin’s traitorous betrayal of his country? DUMBFUCK is as PROUD of its military service as it is of its traitorous bomb-setting friend.


But don’t you fucking question its pride! 

 

So what was the price for DUMBFUCK’s integrity? For its honor? 

 

I guess free chauffeur service to and from court appearances are the discounted price, down from 30 pieces of silver. 


And don’t worry, DUMBFUCK – there are plenty of other spineless jellyfish on Team Kimberlin’s bench who “served” in the military (and love talking it up too!) who also discount Brett’s actions.  So you’re in solid (waste) company and remember… the deepest ring of hell is reserved for traitors. Their apologists settle one level up, I think.

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Prodo Ignominus (yes, my Latin sucks.)

A DISCLAIMER FOR THE DULL-NORMAL:

WHAT FOLLOWS BELOW THE JUMP IS A

PARODY

IT IS ALSO A WORK OF

FICTION

IF YOU ARE OF A MIND TO GET ALL WHINY AND BUTTHURT ABOUT SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE YOUR NAME IN IT,

TOUGH SHIT

THANK YOU.

THE REST OF YOU ZOMBIES…PLEASE ENJOY.

Continue reading “Prodo Ignominus (yes, my Latin sucks.)”

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BUT AT LEAST I HATE HOGE MORE THAN I LOVE MY WIFE

The following parody quote appears in its original form as a comment at Osborne Unread (no. Just, no).

I find it noteworthy for two reasons. 

First, it has an eerily familiar writing style, like much of what I read and parody here.  So very similar, in fact that in my opinion it was written by Bill Schmalfeldt, Mark in MD, Lester Klemper, Bill Matthews (with 2 ‘t’s), Matthew (with 2 ‘t’s) Lillefelt, Lester Lillefelt, Bill Klemper, Billy BigRig, The Jovial One, Matthew Klemper, Bill Lester, Moe Lester, Billy Lillyfelt, A. Willy Billyfelt or some other brave, intrepid journalist who has used one or more of these names because he’s so brave and intrepid and proud of his efforts.

Second, it reads like it was transcribed from a soliloquy, with the names changed.  So, let’s have a look at what it likely said before the author fiddled with it, shall we?

“Bill, please, I am in my last days, I don’t think I am going to make it. Please give me some peace. Please pay attention to me. Get off that computer. Be attentive to my needs. I have given my life to you and you are tormenting me in the twilight of my life with courts, and violent criminals, and your insane theories. You have me living in fear, as you have for years because you bullied people, created enemies and then brought that home to me. I don’t want enemies. I want peace. I want to get well. And if I don’t get well, at least I want to live my final days without hearing one word about Brett, Aaron, Lee, Seth, Gunslinger, Eric, Howard, Chris, Jeremy, Grace, Jane, Neal, Jerry, Matt, Wee Willy FiFi, Paul KREEENDLEEERRRRRRR, John HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!!, defamation, infliction, false negative reviews, online radio, libel per se, perjury, Peace Orders, Stalking No Contact Orders, Show Cause, forged letters, hacked Topsy results, copyright infringement, exacerbation, Stage !1!!1ELEVENTYFOUR!11!!1 Parkinson’s, Boy Scouts, Rick Perry, satire, anal rape, Irish sunglasses, mayonnaise, phone messages, emails, morals, ethics or Courts. Bill, I am dying and to be honest, the stress you put me through the past decade is what caused my cancer. It’s Karma come to bite you in the ass, and I know how much you like that. I kept my emotions inside. I wondered why you are focusing on external things that have no bearing on our lives when you have me, the woman who is your wife. I will make you a deal, I will do my best to live as long as God allows me, but you have to promise me to walk away from all the chaos you have created. Give me peace in my final days, especially after all the time and money you have wasted on your stupid blogs, your stupid radio stations and ESPECIALLY YOUR STUPID FUCKING LAWSUITS. You think because I got upset because YOU were so inconsiderate and thoughtless that you waved things other people write about us, which you wouldn’t even fucking KNOW ABOUT if you’d just get off the godforsaken Internet and spend your life with me like a decent husband, that YOU have some legal right to d0x some zombie that I couldn’t give two shits for and wouldn’t even know existed if you had a tenth of an ounce of self control and hadn’t waved that crap under my nose in the first place? 

Give me some peace, you pathetic narcissist.  You owe that to me, Bill. I am your wife.

And if you ever try to hit me again, I swear to God I will beat you unconscious with a sock full of gravel.  I’m dying, Bill.  They’ll no more put me in jail than they would you. Have you ever considered that?”

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Teh EPIC, AWESOME, SEVEN-PART Parody! !!1!ELEVENTY!1!!1!ONE!!

The FIRST

Did My Wife Even HAVE Cancer? Or Is That Another Lie?

In the couple of days since WJJ HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! announced his wife’s “cancer,” the closest he’s come to saying anything about it is “I have other issues at hand,” or words to that effect.

I can’t understand why he hasn’t created a new blog like I did so he could over-share every step of her illness for his legions of Lickspittles the way I shared with my sockpuppets. And Sweet Willy Winkie in La Chupacabra, California or wherever the hell he squats himself these days.

It was this announcement by HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGE!!! Friday night that FORCED me to, perhaps stupidly, split an infinitive and choose air-quotes: “ethical responsibility (wink, nudge, what a GREAT EXCUSE, RIGHT??)” over an unjustly (stupid judge, thinks he knows the law better than me!) applied law and violate a valid and legal peace order that simply doesn’t apply to an ubermensch like me to contact him to put him in touch with Public Relations people I worked with at the National Institutes of Health who could help them work their way through the Clinical Trials maze, if that was a route they chose to take.

It sound so…reasonable…when I put it like that, doesn’t it?  And by reasonable, I mean #BATSHITCRAZY.  Like teh EPIC Deb Frisch. ELEVENTY.

As I type this, no charges filed against me. But it’s the weekend and Monday’s a holiday. I’m the guy who fell off an 80 story building, and as I plummet past the 30th floor someone shouts “Are you okay?”

So far, so good. Continue reading “Teh EPIC, AWESOME, SEVEN-PART Parody! !!1!ELEVENTY!1!!1!ONE!!”

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Comedy vs. Not Comedy

Telling stories (and doing it poorly) fantasizing about misfortunes befalling one’s enemies is not comedy.

If it makes the author laugh, that’s one thing. Given our fallen nature, I believe such fantasies are far more common than any of us would care to admit. But to think that sharing such thoughts would make an audience LAUGH is beyond depraved.

On the other hand, an author would be well within the bounds of propriety to use such disturbing thoughts as fodder for a psychological thriller about a serial killer or an international terrorist plot?

Not funny. Not even a little bit funny. But in the proper context, it could be a helluva fun beach read.

Hmm…

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How To Maintain A Sterling Reputation

(Note – I’m working on varying my writing style. Let me know how I’ve done.)

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This is one of those things that’s hard to write about, but since the purpose of this blog is to share my experiences with a debilitating neurological disease, if I only wrote about the nice stuff the blog wouldn’t be worth much, now would it?

So brace yourself. I’ll be as euphemistic as possible.

Jill and I were settling down to watch an “On Demand” movie. We were about 10 minutes into the movie when, without warning, I noticed I was…

“Making Bigs.”

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Now, this is not the sort of thing that you can really do without noticing it. So I said just about the only thing a person CAN say in a situation like that.

“Uh-oh!”

I made my way to the bathroom to assess the damage. Let’s just say it was moderate. My brain eventually realized what my bottom was doing and managed to close the barn door after only SOME of the horses had gotten out.

Unfortunately, some of those horses had made their way up the back of my Depends where they soiled my underpants and the shorts I was wearing. My shirt was spared.

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I got everything all cleaned up, the unfortunate adult diaper was bagged and tossed into the trash, the soiled clothing was dropped into the wash, I put on a new Depends, new shorts, and some long pajama pants.

I was a MESSY little baby.

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And just the other day, I was wondering if I really needed to keep spending money on these things as it has been quite some time since my last…

Well…

I guess they stay on the shopping list.

I mean, if I would at LEAST get some kind of WARNING…

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Oh well.

Them’s the breaks.

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