Good Morning, DUMBFUCK!

That’s not a threat, DUMBFUCK.  As you so casually put it, in apophasic terms you can understand, that is a promise. 

Now, for the meat of this post, I offer a bit of heartfelt genius from a commenter who I just know a DUMBFUCK would LOVE to add to his LOLsuit, if he hadn’t been so FUCKING DUMB as to lose his freebie and file too late.  I would expose his talents here, but not his identity.  If he wants to claim credit, I’m confident he will step up and do so.

ThIngs to consider when you’re feeling a little down:

  1. At least you haven’t pissed yourself, especially in front of a cop.
  2. At least you haven’t pooped in your pants when sitting on your mother’s padded chair.
  3. At least your mother and father loved you, and not in the “bad touch” way.
  4. At least your children still love and respect you.
  5. At least you have real friends who want to visit you.
  6. At least you know for sure that your children are your real issue.
  7. At least you are smart and creative enough not to have to plagiarize other people’s material. [And like I said, if the author wants to claim credit for this fine work, all he need do is say so here. – PK]
  8. At least you don’t have to create sock puppets as evidence that a relative somewhere still cares about you.
  9. At least you don’t pick your own feces out of the toilet, roll it into a ball and sniff it.
  10. At least you are smart enough to be able to discern enablers and know how to deflect them.
  11. At least you are smart enough to know how to brew a smaller pot of coffee.
  12. At least you have enough self-esteem that you don’t need to stroke your ego by putting down everyone else in the world. As Dirty Harry once said, “A man’s got to know his limitations!”
  13. At least you worship God in all His glory, rather than living a life of filth and blasphemy.
  14. At least you can forego the Internet when a loved one is in crisis.
  15. At least you can engage your problems directly without having to resort to anonymous torture and persecution.
  16. At least you can resolve your personal problems and issues without having to resort to bullying, intimidation, harassment, stalking, threats, slander, libel, extortion and other forms of criminal behavior.
  17. At least you can love and find good in your fellow man.
  18. At least, when you get into an Internet flame war, you don’t cry like a baby when people play by your rules and kick your ass.

You see, DUMBFUCK, you have to take responsibility for yourself and for the things you do.  You made a FAT FUCKING MISTAKE, assuming that I don’t know anybody in Carroll County. MD law enforcement, or Middlesex County, MA law enforcement.  The wreck you have made of your “sterling reputation” and your non-existent credibility as a criminal victim are not as narrowly defined as you might hope.  It’s not just Brett Kimberlin who snickers up his sleeve at your investigative, journalistic and legal prowess.  The people who know your name and reputation are LEGION, and their numbers grow daily.  And six degrees of separation are not a wide gulf to cross for LULZ.

Oh, almost forgot… 

Vinnie was too busy to say hey today, but someone else asked how to un-send an email.  They didn’t leave a name.


Everything Is DABDA!

Into every life (and I do mean EVERY LIFE), tragedy strikes. Sometimes it’s temporary, sometimes it’s permanent, sometimes it is something that is perceived as a tragedy but turns out to be a blessing. When people go through these tragedies, whether permanent or temporal, they experience a normal process of what has commonly come to be known as the Five Stages of Loss and Grief. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross laid out the general pattern in her 1969 book “On Death and Dying.”

  1. Denial and Isolation – deny the reality of the situation, block things out and hide from the facts
  2. Anger – intense emotion deflected, redirected and expressed in an outward manner
  3. Bargaining – reaction to feelings of helplessness and loss of control
  4. Depression – sadness and regret
  5. Acceptance – where we make our peace with what has occurred, find grace and move on to hope

While it is true that many people cycle through these emotions in the fashion Kubler-Ross lays out, it is also equally true that others do not. Some may skip certain phases, spend more time on one than another, and some even exiting the grieving cycle altogether in an abrupt manner, seeming to go about their life’s work in much the same way as they did before the event that caused them to enter the Five Stages. Others vacillate wildly from one to another and then back again, with no coherency, rhyme or reason.

It’s all a matter of our own personal makeup that determines how we proceed through these stages in my opinion, armchair zombie psychologist that I am.

Now, our good frenemy Bill Schmalfeldt has asked us to talk to Paul Krendler and/or Patrick Grady about the stages of grief someone goes through when they lose their spouse.

View post on

Somehow, I don’t think that Krendler needs talking to. You see, zombie. Ergo, humanity is out the window. Go figure.

Now, I ALSO don’t think Mr. Grady needs to be talked to about these stages of grief. You see, they are the EXACT SAME stages of grief one goes through when you receive the news that your unborn child is going to come into this world disabled. In fact, Billy has a tendency to harp upon a comment Mr. Grady made whilst apparently consumed in Step Number 2 – Anger. While I don’t have the actual comment in front of me, it said something to the effect that Mr. Grady felt that his disabled child was a burden. Billy has taken this comment and extrapolated it out to be, as he perceives it, Mr. Grady’s entire and only view of his child. To Billy, there is no possible way that Mr. Grady could have moved on in the cycle of grief, that he remains stuck there to this very day. And he thinks that Mr. Grady should be reviled for this failure to move on.

Now, I would be remiss in my duties as armchair zombie psychologist if I didn’t point out that this is yet another example of DUMBFUCK’s propensity to project that which is his state of mind onto someone else. He does that a lot, you know.

For instance, if I were to apply Billy’s logic to his public statements regarding his own offspring, I might be persuaded to believe that his daughter is naught but a fountain of “twat slime.” But I’m not an idiot, so…bet she’s not.

I submit that while in the initial hours after his “beloved’s” death, an ordinary, reasonable observer might conclude that Billy appeared to have skipped straight to the end of the Kubler-Ross progression. And you would be right. It APPEARED so. Exhibit A is this tweet from less than 24 hours after she had died.

As a result, one of our fellow zombie travelers has proposed that there is a SIXTH stage to the Kubler-Ross cycle. Rebranding (hat tip NealNBob). And I must say, it is quite the doozy of a stage. Thank God I’ve never gone there myself, nor has anyone else that I know. Until now, that is.

However, now that Bill has had a chance to come back to reality, he has also come back to the state in which he permanently resides: Step number 2 – Anger. As evidence of this psychological disturbance, please read this quotation from his podcast on June 24, 2015.

Well, Gail’s gone. She died a week ago today. She ain’t coming back. So why in God’s name would I want to take time away from more positive pursuits to spend an entire morning at the Howard County Circuit Court to entertain Hoge’s fantasy? I have absolutely nothing to gain by attending. But I also have nothing to lose. I wanna see the look on Hoge’s face as I dissemble [sic] his argument for a peace order bit by bit. I want to show the judge what a liar he is. I want to show the judge the harm Hoge is capable of inflicting by encouraging his readers to attack a man while his wife is dying. I want to take all of this evidence, roll it up into a tight little cylinder and make WJJ Hoge III eat it an inch at a time.

Will I be at the courthouse tomorrow? If I wake up alive tomorrow morning, I will be there. And I will have the time of my life taking out all this grief and anger accumulated over the past week and pour it onto the main source of that grief and anger. The poisonous spider, the crawling vermin who calls himself WJJ Hoge. On tomorrow’s podcast I’ll tell you what happened.

While we are merely reading these words on the screen, hearing them come from the mouth of Billy in real time submerged them to a depth of malevolence that makes these mere words seem like something coming from a mentally-unhinged person. I know that *I* would want a peace order from someone saying these sorts of things in that tone about me.  And might I add that the level of projection here was simply off the charts. This should be studied.  In a tightly controlled, physically secured laboratory setting.  With dissections.  And brain snacks. Because, doctoral dissertation! Just sayin.

UMADBRO is the only emotion that Billy seems able to relate to. It is his happy place, the one that he returns to, again and again like a dog to its vomit. So he is home, now, in the second stage of grief, focusing it outward, and its laser-like focus is, at the moment, on WJJ Hoge.

Billy claims to want to be left alone to do his grieving. Because he is experiencing the worst ever grief for losing his soulmate. But the problem is that other people exist. And that sociopath’s inconvenience is anathema to Billy. Some day he will have to resolve that conflict within him. He will have to stop lashing out at others for the mere fact that they have what he wants to have, that they do what he wants to do, that they are what he wants to be.

But not today. And most likely not tomorrow. Because he has a spleen to vent. And someone must pay. Little does he know that it is always him. Such a shame.


So This is How He Wants It? Cry Havoc!

And let slip the dogs of war!

It seems that Bill “Fair Use For Me But Not For Thee” Schmalfeldt has posted an email he received from Aaron Walker in response to one of his empty, self-serving requests for a “moratorium” on family insults.

He had the gall to open the post with this twaddle:

©2015 by Bill Schmalfeldt

Aaron responded with both barrels. Add in the devastation of several mortars, some fixed artillery, a small aerial bombardment and for the cherry on the insult to injury sundae, a particularly well-placed shot from a flaming trebuchet.  In other words, well within the bounds of reason. My particularly favorite part was when Aaron said “and if you don’t like what I am saying now, maybe you shouldn’t have written such a fucking hypocritical request.” Yeah, go figure.

In return, Billy-boy offered to provide Aaron’s contact information so that anyone could contact Aaron to “tell him what you think of his letter and this blatant extortion.” I actually might take Billy up on it just so I can send Aaron one of my world-famous cheesecakes if that’s the sort of goodie he likes.

Now, we here at The Thinking Man’s Zombie would never, ever, ever think of doing the same, as Billy refers to himself as a “private citizen.”  And he is clearly in a difficult place emotionally since today ends in “y.”

But, if you would like William’s home address so that you could drop off a nice footlong-and-mayo casserole while he and TJ wait for when the vigil ends, or if you’d like to call or email him just to let him know you’re thinking of him, you can find that information conveniently located in the signature block of every LOLsuit he has ever filed, including several failed ones against the HZIC of this very site. And let’s not forget the LOLsuit that includes Patrick Grady as well if we are being fair.

Feel free. I’m sure he’d appreciate the gesture.


Massive Mockery from the European Union

The following post is reprinted with permission and by request of ViewFromNL:

Bill Schmalfeldt says we’re utter failures.

I think not.

Mocking my disease = Fail

Bill, you keep whining about this, but we wouldn’t know anything about your infirmities if you didn’t insist on oversharing… and on trying to use your ill health as a weapon.

Mocking my size = Fail

Bill, you keep whining about this, but we wouldn’t know anything about your obesity if you didn’t insist on oversharing… and on insulting other people on the basis of their weight.

Mocking my wife = Fail

Bill, you keep whining about this, but we wouldn’t know anything about your wife if you didn’t insist on oversharing… and on trying to use her as a weapon or to solicit sympathy.

Mocking my court record = Fail

Bill, you keep crowing about this, but you also keep ESCALATING your stalking and harassment… and at some point a judge is going to lose patience with your bullshit and put the hammer down on your ass.

You don’t know me.

You don’t know US.  We know all about you.  You can’t shut the fuck up, can you?

You don’t know the first thing about me.

We know your address.  We know what you look like.  We know what your wife looks like.  We know your relatives, and for the most part we know why you’re estranged from most of them.  So, yeah, we know MORE than the first thing about you.

You act as if you’re some unique and special personage, Sir Schmalfeldt of Elkridge. You’re not.  Does the phrase “just another asshole on the Internet” ring a bell?

I’m as happy as a man with 15 years of Parkinson’s can be.

You have Parkinsons!?!? OH SHOCK AND DISMAY! Why didn’t I get the memo?

I’m very worried about my wife, but the Lord Giveth and the Lord Taketh away.

Yeah, we can tell how worried you are, as you hunch over your computer and peck out insults and threats at strangers, and wait to find out if you you’re going to jail or not.

There is really nothng you little boys can say that bothers me in the slightest.

(Note: you shouldn’t oughta challenge me like that. -PK)

Your actions reveal your words as lies.  Why do you bother lie to us?

You amuse me.

You have interesting ways of displaying your amusement.

You are a diversion.

Sure.  Because you’ve got nothing on your plate.  Date in criminal court, a wife you claim is dying, working on your LOLSuit and waiting to piss on yourself when you get served counterclaims?  Perhaps less diversion might be in order.

For now.

Well, we can always hope you get tossed in jail, prohibited from the Internet, or perhaps you’ll do us all a favor and just die like you keep teasing us about.

If I go to jail for offering cancer information…

Bullshit.  You violated the peace order because you simply couldn’t stop yourself from putting Bill Schmalfeldt in the middle of the Hoge’s business.

to a the wife of a guy who has tried to frame me over and over and over again, oh fucking well.

Bullshit.  Out of over SEVEN BILLION PEOPLE on this planet, you need to quit harassing ONE OR TWO.  Boo fucking hoo!  You’re in trouble because you insist on pushing the boundaries of the law with your harassment and stalking.

Your claims of forgery and such silly shit is just that:  Silly shit.

Bill, by and large, normal folks don’t deal with bat-shit crazy assholes like you.  Prosecutors, judges, law enforcement?  All the time.  They may not want to deal with you, because of the paperwork involved if nothing else…  But at some point their sense of humor is going to run out.  And it will be HILARIOUS.

The only truly tragic element is I won’t be there to see your face when that ton of bricks finally comes down on your dick-dented head.

It ain’t gonna happen, of course, but if it does?

You keep pushing Bill, and it’s gonna happen.  If not this time, than the next time. Or the next. Because we’ve seen you over the last decade, and you simply will NOT FUCKING LEARN.

You’re at the end of the road, Bill.  Nobody reads or listens to your drivel, except to document the harassment and to LAUGH.  Nobody allows you to comment on their blogs, besides ME…  And you pay the price for that, in humiliation.

Jail is just another place to be.

Brave talk, from the man with urine flowing down his leg.

Now, go pop your zits, lick your fingers clean, and go to bed and dream of the bitter disappointment you will experience in the week ahead.

Sounds like you wish you were back in the days when acne was all you had to worry about… and the occasional transvestite, of course.  FOCUS, SCHMALFELDT!

Everything about you = Fail

Yah ya yadda ya.

Oh, I was just wondering, Bill…  Where are all your good “friends”?  It seems to be just you, against all the Lickspittles.

They can’t even spare you a few lines of support in your time of (literal) trials?

You don’t have to DREAM about bitter disappointment, do you Bill?  YOU LIVE IT. EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY.

Dwell on THAT.


Guest Summary

I received the following summary from Patrick Grady earlier this evening. With some minor edits by myself here and John at Hogewash! we have agreed to jointly publish it. (Note: for those who saw this post come and go, that’s on me. I jumped the gun. Sorry.)

I also found this cool picture he posted on Twitter:


I flew into BWI late Thursday night. John was waiting at baggage claim for me. This had been arranged by an offer from a truly gracious host, and not by request. After a full day of work and half a night of travel, I was very, very grateful.

John drove me to the motel where I now sit typing this. If Bill knew how close I am…well, suffice it to say that I am glad this motel sits on top of a good sized hill next to the highway. I checked in, hung my suit, cursed myself for the one medical incidental item I forgot (guess all you want – I’m not saying), improvised a solution, and crashed hard.

Woke up this mornin’, got myself a gun… (sorry. Soprano’s reference). Went downstairs and availed myself of the free breakfast – the saving of the Hockey Parent, I’ll tell you. Went back up and prepped for battle.

I had a bit of free time, so I did a lttle work printing off more information that might come in handy later in the day. John arrived just before I finished. I packed up and we headed for Ellicott City. We sat down in the Einstein Bagels previously mentioned by John with – you guessed it – bagels and coffee. We did not spot any lurking photographers.

We discussed strategy and options. To tell the truth, I came here intent on pursuing all available legal options, both civil and criminal.

Next stop, the courthouse. We went to the clerk’s office and waited a few minutes in line. Howard County folks seem to have more patience than the functionaries in Cook County, IL. I suspect that may relate to workload volume.

I gave my name. In return, the lady said something like, “Come again?” I repeated it, and I told her I would like to file a Peace Order. I also had some paperwork from Cook County that I would like to have served. She asked against whom, and I told her. The look I got in return was a combination of sympathy and gratitude. She told me that Mr. Schmalfeldt had called and intended to come in later to drop the order. She needed to fetch a sheriff, pull the file and get her supervisor.

The supervisor arrived first. Her attitude and demeanor was similar to the previous clerk.

If I were a less observant fellow, a man who misses facial expressions, a man who doesn’t catch snippets of conversation from the other side of the glass and the occasional sidewise glance and roll of the eye, I might believe that the Howard County law enforcement apparatus had not developed a widely held opinion regarding the overall character of my opponent.

But I am. So I did.

After a brief discussion of the current status – there was the Temporary Peace Order pending a hearing in an hour or so in this building, and I have a Stalking No Contact order hearing pending in Cook County, IL, the supervisor told me she could not accept a Peace Order filing in Howard County when there was another similar order based on the same acts pending in another state. If both orders were granted, and violated in both jurisdictions, both or neither might decide to pursue prosecution. With just one order – “on YOUR home field, Mr, Grady” was never spoken, but I inferred it – prosecution would be more likely. Plus, she did say, anything that was filed here in Howard County would obligate me, if I wished to follow through fully, to return for hearings and for any trials where I would be a witness. $$$ Again, I inferred from this that the easier way for me was to continue to work through Cook County.

That made my decision for me. Even though I was in Howard County (and I have already read of the efficacy of the Maryland courts at work, which also was a factor), I was being strongly recommended, if not told outright, to go home and press my case on familiar ground – and good luck go with you.

Next, a sheriff’s deputy came to talk with me. He was very straightforward in serving me with the Peace Order paperwork. I told him I already had it, even though I had not been served by Cook County. He asked where I got it, and I told him I had it from Bill’s blog post on the subject.

A brief look of amazement passed across his face. Then he served me papers I already had.

John and I retired to the waiting area outside the courtrooms, setting up on the “high ground” with a view of the parking lot, the better to observe enemy movements, and avail ourselves of “good cover and clear fields of fire,” said John. We waited. Else what’s a waiting area for?

Courtroom 3 opened at 1:00 PM for the 1:15 hearing. We took seats at about five past. The bailiff began calling parties for check-in, and it was immediately clear by his butchering of the last name, that Schmalfeldt v. Grady was at the top of the docket call list. The bailiff called all petitioners, top to bottom (heh – he said “bottom”), followed by all respondents in the same way.

John suggested that the judge could move the case down the docket and call it again, giving Bill more time to appear with his sooper dooper Friday Surprise. We both doubted he would. John did not see any of the usual Team K suspects in evidence to indicate that outcome.

Judge Mary Reese entered the room at about 1:45, immediately apologizing for tardiness, as she was dealing with some issues with detectives in her chambers. Court came into session. She too went through a checklist of parties to ask how many witnesses each party intended to call. “Scham? Schammelfeldt?” The snide grin that popped onto my face was automatic. Whoops.

Going through the checklist, she moved two other cases to be heard and dismissed immediately by mutual consent of the parties. Easy-peasy.

She called “Scham-schammelfeldt vs. Grandy” and I went up, correcting my name. Without being given a chance to say another word, she dismissed the order for Petitioner Failure To Appear (IMO, the last two words being needless). It was over so quickly that the idea of a) mentioning this is the second PO the Mr. Schammelfeldt has filed against me this year, with the same result, and b) asking if I could recover fees and costs from petitioner by court order was dead before I could open my mouth.

John said he thought she may have recognized Petitoner’s name and been eager to be done with this waste of the court’s time.

Works for me.

On to Timbuktu, where I received an education in Maryland crab cakes (YUM!) and a Sam Adams Winter Lager.

It was very tasty, but in concert with the pharmacopeia in my body, we all had an enjoyable afternoon nap.


Guest Post from Rick Buchanan

(Editor’s Note: I received the following from Rick on Tuesday evening, with a note asking if I might consider posting it on his behalf. Originally planned as a comment, we agreed that it deserves its own space. I have made a couple of minor proofreading edits, but it is Rick’s material in all substance and particulars. -PK)

An Open Letter to Bill Schmalfeldt on the True History of Doxxing


Your recent ham-handed attempt at net sleuthing has bothered me enough that I just have to tell you a few things.

Do you know anything about the history of ‘doxxing?’ It started out on Usenet in the mid ’90s. There had been earlier occasions where someone or other had their identity revealed. There was one particular flame war in alt.culture.computers where folks on both sides were outed, but this bore little resemblance to what we now know as doxxing.

Then one day I saw an article working over an anonymous net vandal. It was from SPUTUM (“Subgenius Police, Usenet Tactical Unit, Mobile” – an activist bunch of SubGs with whom I had worked). They started from one morsel of info about this troll and produced a tour de force – listing his name, school attended with GPA, hobbies, car make, model and plate #, family and relationship data, employer and home phone numbers and addresses – with Mapquest directions! And they did it before Google.

This was the progenitor of the modern dox. I was impressed and – after I cleaned the coffee of my CRT – I set about to emulate them. I’ve always been careful to note that I didn’t invent the art form, but over the 35 or so takedowns I proceeded to write, it’s a simple fact that I’m the one who popularized it and brought it to a wider audience. For a while I was getting nearly a hundred fan emails a day about them.

Simply put – I feel responsible for what it’s become. I feel like YOU are my fault!

My targets were spammers, who were raping the shared resource of Usenet for personal profit, scammers with their chain letters and Nigerian uncles, and assorted miscreants like scientologists trying to use DOS attacks to stifle conversations. These were people attacking the community, and laughing behind the anonymity that they thought was impenetrable. Well, they thought wrong.

In other words, I considered myself one of the GOOD GUYS!

Anonymity itself was never a problem. I fully support the right to protect your identity. In fact, while I know who a few SPUTUM ‘units’ (agents) are, the real life identities of most (including Unit 0) are a complete mystery to me, which is as it should be.

I took pride in my work, and achieved a perfect accuracy record – over 35 doxxes without an error. In cases where there was any doubt whatsoever, I didn’t post. In fact I had decided that if I ever DID make a mistake, I would retire in shame.

So what has become of that ‘art form,’ which I was partly responsible for bringing to public awareness?

You. That’s how far it has fallen.

Let’s set aside your competence for a moment, and discuss your choice of targets. Two in particular really piss me off.

First, there is Patrick Grady. I saw the comment he left on your blog that set you off. It was a mildly negative, gentle suggestion that you might be feeling too sorry for yourself. I’d give it a 0.02 on the 1 – 10 flame scale. Real weak tea.

You went APESHIT. You doxxed him, his wife, his disabled kid and you actually tried to get the guy fired! In the history of overreaction, this one makes the Hall of Fame!

But Monday you outdid even that. You attempted to interrogate (with your insufferable attitude of entitlement) a guy whose only ‘crime’ was reading your tripe without using a proxy! You threatened a man’s family and their jobs because you didn’t like who this guy read and followed.

I would say you should be ashamed of both these cases. But I know you lack the capacity to feel that emotion.

No letter about your ‘doxxing’ activities would be complete without at least mentioning your skill level. In this review, recall that I’m speaking as an expert on the subject.

You suck. You suck so bad that people who just suck at an average level complained about being categorized with you and requested we find a new term just for you. You have no talent for the work and lack the technical skills required to be even mediocre. You are a drone doing Google lookups and drawing unfounded conclusions from ordinary inevitable coincidences. Your misunderstanding of simple logic is exceeded only by your laughable lack of facility with flowcharts.

But instead of recognizing your staggering incompetence and going away, you persist in your empty threats, misguided bluffs and childish insults.

Stop. Just stop. Breathing would be a top-end get, but failing that, stalking is what I’m specifically asking you to stop.

Stop making me ashamed of something I used to be proud of.

— Rick

Note: it is unfortunate that when Google acquired the Usenet archive from Deja News, much was lost. This includes practically all the spammer takedowns (doxxings) I did. But in case anyone wishes to verify the claims I made, one of the later ones – a ‘Make Money Fast’ chain letter spammer workover (from ’99) survives. It can be found at this link.

It’s not really typical, since I was getting bored with it by then.

Another example of actual net detective work uncovering anonymous spammers is archived
here and has become something of a tutorial on tracking spammers.