Does William M. Schmalfeldt Abuse Children?

I have reasons to suspect that William M. Schmalfeldt abuses minor children.

I have no proof. Just suspicions.

I know his soulmate would rather be dead than live with him in his Elkridge, MD tincasa, or his fabulous St. Francis, WI swinging bachelor pad amon the NINJANUNS, or his rundown rental in Clinton IA, or any of the many flea-bitten stops he has made en route to the highway underpass in Myrtle Beach, SC.

I believe the rumors that he is now trying to pass himself off as a jolly old St. Nick, but I have not been able to confirm that he was actually hired by any local malls or retail establishments for that purpose.




God only knows what went on during those Cub Scout camping trips with The Giant he called a father. Whatever did happen, and again, I have no actual proof that anything did, it likely happened to his dead monoplacental twin brother as well, and was probably a contributing factor to his untimely demise at such a young age.

Bill went on to join the Navy, where he spent two three-year hitches almost entirely in the company of other men, separated by a brief period of dealing with icky females. Is that a clue? I have no idea.

But we don’t need to have evidence, do we? William M. Schmalfeldt has been referring to people as having committed the most loathsome of crimes. Is he projecting?

Probably. But we probably will never know for sure.

Bill Schmalfeldt – excuse me, I meant to say “Clankston Whose” – writes a lot about child abusers, the things they know, the way they act. Is he speaking from bitter experience?

His wife is dead. At least, the one of three who had such low self-esteem she couldn’t envision a better life without him. His children, some of whom are even biologically his as far as we know, live far away from him and never visit. It’s truly a shame because he cannot travel to visit them. That’s what he says, anyway. It’s always possible that the kiddies haven’t given him an address where he can find them. Needlessly exposing one’s children to the permanent psychic scars inflicted by such a Grandpa could lead to charges of child endangerment, and no one wants that. Do they?

And so Bill sits alone in his little rental shack far from the beach, seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle while the sounds of Final Fat Assy IV blare from across the room. She’s playing video games and can’t stay quiet. He’s so far gone that he can’t even remember things he wrote on his namesake blog as recently as sixteen months ago (hint, hint).

Convicted bomber and adjudicated pedophile Brett Kimberlin enables this drunken, narcissistic loser by giving Bill Schmalfeldt the Editor-in-Chief job at his blog, even though he lacks the courage to put his own name of the drivel he posts, instead resorting to cowardly pen names like “Clankston Whose.” This is after Bill Schmalfeldt was kicked off such respected blogs as Digital Journal, The Examiner (twice) and noted right wing hate site The Daily Kos (also TWICE, by Markos Moulitsas himself!).

William M. Schmalfeldt is a man without conscience who I suspect looks back fondly (as opposed to fondle-y) at the memory of the lovely, now irretrievably broken children he may be guilty of abusing. The only way he can deal with his guilt over the crimes he has committed against nature (in my opinion), against society (also my opinion), against the fabric of his family (still just my opinion) is to project his actual crimes onto someone he’s never met, he doesn’t know, and then lash out at that person as a way of confession without punishment.

If Brett Kimberlin was a responsible blog owner, he would stop enabling William M. Schmalfeldt’s prolonged mental breakdown. But Brett Kimberlin is just a midget punk using Schmalfeldt for what he is: a blunted, useless tool. It serves his purpose to prop up Bill Schmalfeldt as a front man attacking without result his self created enemies. It serves Kimberlin’s purpose to use this useless puppet try to knock down his betters, no matter how false the narrative, no matter how twisted, sick, perverted and intoxicated the lonely old pus-puddle he’s bought to tell the lies.


Drawing A Straight Line From Bill Schmalfeldt to Pedophilia, Racism, Misogyny, Anti-Semitism, Drugs & Terrorism



It’s a simple matter of “unnecessary air-quote” connecting the dots “unnecessary air-unquote:” Drawing a straight line from transient left wing idiot, Stolen Valor veteran, welfare whore and cyberstalking harasser Bill Schmalfeldt to brass knuckles reputation management lawfare aficionado Brett Kimberlin, the convicted Speedway Bomber, domestic terrorist, drug dealer and forger, one-time wannabe rockstar and champion of the movement to, um… “romance” underage girls in the name of pedophilia, a philosophy that is the direct opposite of normal, though not for lack of effort on the part of the enlightened, progressive Left. (It emphasizes that romantic and sexual relationships between adults and children who are legally and emotionally incapable of consent is perfectly fine.

A recent piece in BuzzFeed (which we aren’t going to link because we’re assholes like that here at Cabin Boy Unread) had absolutely nothing to do with the relationship between welfare whore Bill Schmalfeldt and adjudicated pedophile Brett Kimberlin, but you can find plenty of information here.

Schmalfeldt is currently in his second stint as the editor of Breitbart Unmasked (no, I won’t link to it – malware warnings), a website connected to Kimberlin and given to publishing multiple fawning profiles about him while ignoring his criminal history and epic failures at shutting up his critics via lawfare. Schmalfeldt, who tries to portray himself as a glib, sarcastic satirical genius and investigative journalist on this website as well as hundreds of other failed blogs, podcast channels and Twitter accounts he has created, then abandoned or had yanked from public view over the last decade, has also authored many self-published masturbatory fantasies disguised as “exposés” of people he has continuously tried and failed to sue for defamation and other false claims. Many of these books have also been pulled from online bookshelves due to copyright violations.

There’s not much about Schmalfeldt’s public rantings to love.

  • He has written, performed and offered for sale audio skits featuring Cub Scouts discussing and engaging in homosexual acts with one another in pornographic detail;
  • He has written, performed and offered for sale audio skits referring to African American characters as “boy” and referring to them as house servants;
  • He has written, produced and performed audio skits in which he imagines himself disinterring dead babies and eating them;
  • He has published photos of himself eating live kittens;
  • He has referred to Ali Akbar, an African American, as “boy;”
  • After a confederate suggested that the wife of one of the targets of his harassment should be raped, Schmalfeldt helpfully provided the street address on Twitter, while not in any way agreeing with the whole rape thing (wink, wink);
  • He has additionally said, dozens if not hundreds of times, that this same target of his harassment pimped out his wife, while not in any way suggesting that the wife herself was a whore (nudge, nudge);
  • He has insulted the Filipino spouse of a Virginia attorney by suggesting that she was a mail order bride, and that the lawyer might “send her packing back to Asia where he purchased her;” (say no more, say no more)
  • Even though he himself barely graduated high school, and may in fact have been graduated just to get him out of the local educational system, he often refers to women who offer opinions he cannot understand as “dim twats,” “stupid cunts,” “cum-gargling fuckwits” or any of the multiple possible combinations thereof;
  • He has made anti-Semitic statements referring to slaving away like Israelites for Pharoah;
  • He and his insipid balloon animal of a girlfriend regularly insult their perceived adversaries – and believe me, do they ever have to punch up – with homosexual slurs such as gays, fags and faggots;
  • He has published gleeful Twitter rants apophatically referring to one columnist as a “closeted repressed homosexual,” a “simpering, limp-wristed glory-hole queen,” an “angry, self-hating homosexual” and a “pillow-biting studded leather collar-wearing bukkake boy,” as if such sexual orientations were off the normal scales and somehow worthy of scorn;
  • On at least one occasion, he has photoshopped his perceived enemies into homosexual pornographic photographs, as if being homosexual were something to be ashamed of.

The things he says in private are far worse, far more insidious and despicable.

An anonymous but trusted source has provided Thinking Man’s Zombie with communications with Schmalfeldt, in which Schmalfeldt shares his glee over bashing peoples’ skulls with rocks, glorifying over the imagery of kicking people out of their homes, taking away their children’s inheritances, getting them fired from their jobs after doxing them, and shoving lit M-80s up the rectums of their pets just like when he was a kid.

Schmalfeldt is far less glib and urbane when discussing his violent dreams out of sight of the public. He brags about an in situ plot to overthrow the government of the United States, saying that a large number of generals and admirals are on board and ready to move if Donald Trump goes a step too far.  He is either delusional or a liar, but at times like this there is nothing like the power of AND.  Schmalfeldt now has the time to work on funding his latest projects…fleecing the left-wing idiots of America to fund a 48 state “bucket list” road trip along with about $2500 of new toys to “document” the journey, grifting for a brand new mobility scooter that Medicare would pay for if only he could find a competent doctor to prescribe for him, and pro se prosecuting yet another Federal LOLSUIT that has less than a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting to trial.

Is Schmalfeldt just thumping his concave chest? Preening like a peacock, trying to impress the reader with his illusory power and might?

Well, obviously!

And if it isn’t all just talk, where is the funding coming from?

That question takes us back to the beginning.

Brett Kimberlin is a convicted bomber who was found civilly liable for the death of one of his victims but hid all his assets to avoid paying the judgment. He is a convicted forger, drug dealer and perjurer who has spent years along with thousands of dollars engaging in lawfare against many with whom he shares common hatred along with Bill Schmalfeldt. Also, he blew $9000 to buy a fake Russian dossier on Donald Trump.

No, really!

Bill Schmalfeldt is a friend of Brett Kimberlin, by his own admission:

Who’s to say that Kimberlin is not funding Schmalfeldt’s dreams of almost-beachside month-to-month rental retirement in a Myrtle Beach motel-gone-cheap-condo? How do we know Kimberlin is not laughing up his sleeve behind the scenes at Schmalfeldt’s impotent fist shaking dreams of crushing his enemies THIS TIME, AT LONG LAST!!! in a South Carolina court with a case far more flimsy than he has ever had before, even more flimsy than the case that caused a court-conscripted welfare lawyer in Chicago to fire him and run him out of town, shaking with derisive pointage, laughery and mockification?

We don’t know.

Maybe it’s time to start asking questions?



I am too stupid to think for a very long time. But I will exercise muh rights to avoid thinking and for the LULZ of other Muhrcans.

The Muhrcans with Intellectual Disabilities Act of 2017 makes one thing clear. Stupid people are stupid, and stupidity is an excuse and in fact a reason to violate published court rules as well as explicit court orders from a judge. One might think government entities must provide special accommodations for people with disabilities, but this is not even a little bit accurate. Government entities must provide reasonable (not SPECIAL) accommodations, so that actual disabled persons (not fear pee soaked Fakinson’s cowards) can PARTICIPATE in life rather than hide in the closet of the Myrtle Beach Roach Motel.

And the government tried that.  They let me attend hearings via Skype after I lied and told them I was unable to drive (except from Wisconsin to Chicago and back, and from Wisconsin to Iowa, and multiple round trips from Iowa to South Carolina (about 2000 miles of painful, EXHAUSTING DEBILITATING, EXACERBATING HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS OF SITTING ON MY LARDY BEETUSBUTT IN A RENTED CAR on America’s crumbling infrastructure). But I violated their stupid rules and recorded the proceedings as they came out of my computer.  You couldn’t even hear any voices but mine on the video I posted to YouTube unless you turn up the volume.

WJJ Hoge III chooses to deny my rights under the ADA by pointing out that I have violated the court rules, and it seems as if he might have the assistance of a Carroll County, MD, Circuit Court Judge in doing so. The judge ordered me to appear and show cause why I should not be held in contempt.

What does that mean? I’m glad you asked.

It means that the judge has found that there is cause to find me, an interlexulluy dersabled Muhrcan, in contempt of court. And I must be given a chance to show that I have not violated rules nor an order of the court.  Because I have allegedly (HA!) violated the rules WHILE USING SKYPE, the judge seems to think it might not be a grand idea to give me the opportunity to do it again. What an idiotic jackass that judge is.

In his feckless lawsuit against your host, Brett and Tetyana Kimberlin and several others – a suit which has been allowed at every juncture to move ever forward to a scheduled trial date in August- Hoge has chosen to create law where none exists point out how I violated the court’s rules. The judge in the case allows him to do so without sanction, because that is within the rules. For instance, on June 28 I am called to appear in person, 450 miles from here, to answer a ridiculous contempt of court charge for a crime that does not exist violation of the black-letter court rules and procedures. I no longer drive, because it’s not convenient for me to continue to drive, or else I would be expected to drive all the way to Maryland to get smacked in the mouth by a judge.

I’m gonna fight, by running and hiding to an abandoned bar where I can be the last man standing after a bar fight where I am the only participant.

A 14-hour bus or train ride would be incredibly painful, much more painful than the multiple16+ hour road trips I made in my own car from Iowa to South Carolina and back when I was able to drive two short months ago. As much as Hoge and his followers like to pretend, I actually do have and can PROVE I suffer from Parkinson’s disease, when it’s convenient to do so. Furthermore, THERE IS NOTHING IN MARYLAND LAW OR THE MARYLAND RULES STATING THAT A PERSON PROVIDING TESTIMONY OVER SKYPE OR THE TELEPHONE CANNOT RECORD HIS OR HER OWN TESTIMONY…unless you count rule 16-208, which I don’t because I am an interlectilly derpsmacked Muhrcan and I can’t even find that rule in the copy of the rules that the judge told me to get and figger out.

I am charged with recording my own face and voice (and by COMPLETE COINCIDENCE all the other voices in the room, but it’s ALL THEIR FAULT for talking loud enough to hear me) using an iPhone that should have been turned off for everyone but me, it says so right there in the rules. Hoge is calling it “wiretapping.” And the judge is playing right along because that dimwit doesn’t know the rules.

On June 9, I filed a motion asking the stupid goddam judge to either cancel the hearing or, in the alternative, drop the requirement that I appear in person to perform for Hoge’s dog and pony show so that I can secretly record it again, which has nothing to do with why there’s a show cause hearing in the first place.




That hearing is June 28, day after tomorrow. As of this evening, the judge has not responded one way or another to the motion. He has to respond before the hearing, it’s in the Pretendyland ACME Rules of Civil Procedure, which is the only set of rules an INTERSECTIONALLY DISTENDED MUHRCAN like me is required to use – they’re not written anywhere, but I have them memorized.  If he has not responded by COB tomorrow, I will be expected to appear at 8:45 am in Westminster, Maryland.

To be forced to do so is a clear violation of my rights under Title II of the Americans with Intellectual Disabilities Act.

The AIDA provides remedies in Federal Court for idiotic Americans who can’t understand the law and really should have HIRED A FUCKING LAWYER and tried to SETTLE before it was too late. Which it definitely is now.

If the judge continues to ignore my motion, I will avail myself of my uncivil rights as an uninteresting asexually fear-piss-abled American.

I will resist this usurpation of my rights from my ADA compliant jail cell.

I’ll tell you one thing though…ain’t gonna be no hunger strike!


Give Me Money, SUCKERS!

You know how it is, all those charities asking for your hard-earned money. Do you take donate to the kids with cancer fund? Do those sad-eyed puppies get you to cough up the $18 per month? Or do hold on to your moolah for an important cause… like helping to buy another scootypuff for a grifter pretending to have Parkinsons again? 

I am Bill, the guy on the right (well, it’s not really me, that guy has a neck), but right now I’m pretending to be the inflatable fellow on the left there.  That’s my fiancée “Dianne.” I mean, that’s me, Dianne. The fiancée.

Bill is a “Vietnam Era” veteran who stormed the beaches of Lebanon with an empty pistol to put a Band-Aid on the knee of a woman he knocked over chasing down an ice cream truck. He has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease for 17 years but got kicked out of a clinical study for some reason.  He’s a good man, and to prove that he has racked up nine restraining orders in five states directing him to quit bothering people (including a three-year old boy) online.  All those people are liars though, and all those judges are idiots.  And Bill would have proved it, too, if he’d only bothered to sack up and go to court.

I met Bill on the Internet back in 2013 (while we were each married to other people, but that’s not weird at all) and we became friends because of our similar demented political views and our propensity to beg strangers for money rather than get a job.

After Bill live-tweeted his wife’s death in 2015, he was left to care for himself because his stepson was too reclusive and because an Alaskan lawyer scared him into dropping his fifth LOLSUIT and fleeing halfway across America. He went to Wisconsin to reconnect with his Catholic heritage and fight alongside the NINJANUNS!  He had voluntarily given up his driver’s license in 2009 because he convinced his wife that laziness is the same as Parkinson’s and she could drive him wherever he needed to go, do all the household chores and mail his LOLSUIT filings for him. But after she died, he was forced to have his recliner surgically removed from his backside and start doing things for himself.

With the $9000 he got from her life insurance, he bought himself a mobility scooter (It was red. Vroom, VROOM!).


He could have got one for free if he’d been able to con a doctor into saying he really needed one. Oh, well.

In a completely unforeseeable turn of events, with no caretaker on hand, he got stronger. By September 2016 his legs were so strong that his Parkinson’s was CURED! HALLELUJAH! Can I get an AMEN?

He ditched the red scootypuff (Vroom, VROOM!) and bought himself a broke-ass hoopty. It was not red. Putt-putt.

I was there for Bill, as a (wink, nudge) “friend” when his wife died even though he never mentioned me in public.  And he talks about EVERYTHING in public.  Especially Brett.  Can’t shut the fuck up about Brett.  God knows I wish he would. And Bill was there for me, as a (wink, nudge) “friend” when my husband’s ass fell out in 2016. Five months later, we were fucking.  And grifting.  Grifting and fucking.  Through this common bond of loss (of income), our friendship and co-dependence grew stronger. Earlier this year, after a pair of 2000 mile round trips to spend weekends inflating me and wiping up grease spots, he finally loaded up his hoopty and moved to South Carolina. We are going to be married as soon as I get an online minister’s certificate. We will stay in our romantic Roach Motel as man and wife.  You see, Bill loses lawsuits frequently, so all the assets will be in my name.

About a month ago, Bill’s broke-ass hoopty went tits-up and he paid a guy named Jesus to tow it away.

Totally by coincidence, he filed his eighth LOLSUIT in federal court here in South Carolina just three days later as a pauper. But it’s totally not a scam because HE’S NEVER, EVER DONE ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE IN MARYLAND OR ILLINOIS, AS FAR AS HE CAN REMEMBER!

For a guy who has collected nine restraining orders against him in 5 states, Bill is the nicest cyberstalker you’d ever want to meet.  He’s just extraordinarily incompetent, I mean unlucky in court.  He doesn’t know I am pretending to be me (the inflatable fiancée) doing this. I want to surprise him (and myself, which is actually him, too) with a successful result for the first time in our (my) life, but I don’t want to disappoint him (us) if I (we) am unable to raise the funds to buy a new mobility scooter for him (me). A red one. Vroom, VROOM!

When he’s disappointed, he’s like a child.  A very large, very spoiled, very impulsive, very scary disappointed child, with a very, VERY full diaper.  Like that kid in the Twilight Zone who wished people into the cornfield, only with really bad ass-stank too. I just can’t face that again so soon, especially considering the way his LOLSUITS always turn out.

If I don’t come up with a new red scootypuff (Vroom, VROOM!), he’ll abandon me just like his first two wives, 5 kids, some of which might even be his, and 19 pets. We don’t have a car anymore because pauper LOLSUIT.  I can’t drive anyway due to issues with walleye vision that keep me from doing anything but playing video games for 18 hours a day.  I certainly can’t get a job, that would just be silly.  Thankfully, we are lucky enough to live within walking distance of everything we need, like a federal courthouse.


Still, Parkinson’s is a progressive neurological disease when you’re not faking it, which Bill totally isn’t doing and I’m being totally cereal right now.  Since he’s been with me, he has packed on twenty-five more pounds of greasepadding (curse you, WAFFLE HOUSE!) and I have noticed changes in his desire to walk. He has once again given up his driver’s license, coincidentally right after it was demanded during discovery.  He has started to show some of the memory lapses that always return when he needs to be seen as a pitiful disabled man begging for the sympathy of this court or that one. This morning I woke up chained to the wall with a dog collar locked around my neck.  He screams that I’m his “Captive Nurse” now. He sounds like Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet: “WHERE’S MY BOURBON?!?!?”

 Always with the bourbon.

I think it would lift his spirits (if not his body) considerably if I were able to help him get a mobility scooter or electric wheelchair that WJJ Hoge III will probably snatch away after that pointless, doomed lawsuit in Maryland. Unfortunately, I am unemployed because video games don’t play themselves, ya know, and even truck stops have standards. And since we survive on Bill’s federal pension and disability payments, we’re never going to be able to live a decent life together in a home of our own.  We’re paupers.  Just ask the Federal Court in the District of South Carolina.  But don’t mention my name, because he didn’t mention he has an inflatable roommate playing Caregiver to the Newly Re-Crippled.


So, I find myself reaching out to the GoFundUrself community, begging strangers for money with a brand new scam. AGAIN. Some guys play golf, even though I’m not a fake guy like that asshole Krendler says. GNUH FLUNGH NHURRSHURF, KRUNDMBLUHR!

If you donate $25 or more, I will send you a signed, numbered doodle of David Bowie eating Krendler’s pooter hole that I drew myself with some crayons I shoplifted from CVS. Krendler’s the one with the missing brain.

Donate $100 or more and I will send my personal artistic interpretation of a dude laying pipe to a cadaver that I saw once somewhere.

Bill gives so much to others.  He stopped taking his medications so he could stay up late enough to read Hoge’s Team Kimberlin Post of the Day at midnight every day.  I don’t mind because I’m playing video games and tweeting myself even though I’m in the same room with him (me).  I can’t afford to waste my karaoke-contest winning voice with something as mundane as speaking with the brand new love of my life.


He volunteered for a clinical trial in 2007 to see if DERP Brain Stimulation would be helpful for people in the early stages of Fakinson’s disease, and all he asked for in return was a few hundred thousand dollars in welfare to fund his habit of collecting restraining orders and losing court cases to toddlers. He needs a new hobby, I think…maybe he could go back to rolling and sniffing his own turds.  That sounds interesting…

That’s right! Bill volunteered for and underwent brain surgery that he told me did not need at the time so he could say he did one decent thing in his life—I mean, to see if it would help others.

Did I say that out loud?  I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud, was I?

So please, let’s help Bill get a new red electronic whalebarrow (Vroom, VROOM!) to haul his beetus flesh to the beach and to escape the environmentalists who keep trying to drag him into the water.  We need it delivered to the Carroll County Courthouse in Westminster, Maryland by 8:00 AM on June 28th so he looks properly pathetic at his contempt hearing.

Thanks in advance for your gullibility and kindness.

P.S. This is provably a complete scam to get funds to make the trip to Maryland for the contempt hearing on the 28th or to take a road trip to all 50 state capitals without a driver’s license between us.

P.P.S. I mean “probably.”


Hypocrite Bill Schmalelddt Wants Your Money to Shoot a Film

[Editor’s Note – this smells like fishbait to me, calculated to bring just the sort of response that follows. If I’m right, nobody can say I didn’t see it coming. If I’m wrong, it’s just another hanging slider begging to be drilled into the third deck. And what else am I here for? – PK]

Remember his epic fundraising effort to get his “good name” back from the right-wing mob at DailyKos?  And the other efforts to fund his stupid LOLSUITS that he started and never finished? BYE BYE, MONEY!!!

In yet another incoherent, hypocrisy-saturated post this morning, alleged child pornographer, wannabe soulmate-pimp, grifter, disgraced journimalist and oft-fired radio host (most recently from KMCN the MAC 94.7 in “his town” Clinton, Iowa, where he no longer resides because as he says, “they know me there”) DUMBFUCK Bill Schmalelddt wants you to give him money.

He’s gonna rent him an SUV and drive around the country without a driver’s license. All he needs is thirteen thousand nine hundred seventy-five bucks for new toys. And to pay the fines.

There are ROADS LESS TRAVELED TO BE TRAVELED, and by gum, DUMBFUCK’S gonna travel them on Kim Abbott’s dime.

I can haz munnys nao? And new curtainz?


This disreputable, anti-American amoeba began his morning babble with an attack on Lee Stranahan, the first of the dozens of white whales this microscopic Ahab has been stalking online for most of the last decade, even after oh-so-sincerely apologizing for saying he pimped out his wife (BUT DON’T YOU DARE SAY HE CALLED HER A WHORE BECAUSE THAT NEVER HAPPENED!! THERE’S ONLY ONE WIFE AROUND HERE GOOD ENOUGH TO BE CALLED A WHORE AND SHE’S DEAD THANKS TO YOU AND THE MIGHTY ROLODEX OF CLINICAL TRIALS AT THE NIH!!!). The nutshuffling penis says, when he is not desperately gobbling what look like several footlong hotdogs slathered in hot mayonnaise in a dark corner of the YMCA locker room, that there are American stories to tell out there in the wastes of the deep red states of Trump’s America, where intolerant Boy Scouts don’t embrace the urban ideals of inclusion, diversity and sliding pee sticks into pooter holes by the campfire.  Schmalelddt says Stranahan is a “former pornographer, would-be pimp, grifter, one-time Breitbart reporter and current propaganda agent,” which is a bit like saying “Paul Krendler started a flame war against Schmalelddt by turning one of Schmalelddt’s flame posts about John Hoge’s family back onto Schmalelddt.”

In this hypocritical DUMBFUCK’S tortured excuse for a mind, the whole thing ties into a Sheldon Adelson Koch Brothers Robert Mercer Philip Anschutz Illuminati Tri-Lateral Commission Elders of Zion Eye of Sauron-funded effort to meddle with affairs in the former United States now known as Trumpland.

Trumpland is that majority of red states that voted for Trump, disenfranchising the gigantic, aptly named and terminally depressing minority of “blue” states like California, Illinois and New York according to a long-established, perfectly legal but vestigial Constitutional tradition of the Old Republic known as the Electoral College. Although some of the poorest states in the former USA, Trumpland has always led the way in espousing small government, self-determination, dynamic economies, freedom, personal responsibility and the exercise of Constitutional rights.

Schmalelddt has so much regard for these red Trump states that he is seeking to fund a road trip to go forth and poke the citizens of these states with sharp sticks, and make a film of himself being mauled to death.

DUMBFUCK created a GoFundMe page over two months ago to fund this odyssey.  Since the inaugural donation of $25 on day one, the fundraising effort has stalled.  Even his new imaginary, inflatable boifriend saw through his transparent scam.

Schmalelddt obviously envies the success of his self-made nemesis Lee Stranahan, now an accredited member of the White House Press Corps, an achievement that the three-time winner of the Iowa State Fair Poke Me in the Corn Hole Agricultural Reporting Lucite Cob never came close to achieving.

Check the GoFundMe page. Watch the video. Point and laugh.  If you think about sending him money, buy some ice cream instead. Or set the bills on fire.  Either is a wiser choice than sending your money to Hypocrite Bill Schmalelddt.

Let him pay his own way through every McDonald’s drive thru in America.



Dear Just Anne Sir,

This may be a dumb thing to ask, but please give big large solve in small short words so I get it good. I may not be a genius but I can fake it, more or less. To be big dumb pest is crime in MD. To be one who stalks is too. And in MA. AZ too. And IL. So is in MA. A peace order (some states call it big word like “restraining” but I do not know that big long word) can be give to man who not stop call on phone or send mail when people I stalk ask me nice.  When judge give me peace orders (nine so far), I have to stop mail, stop phone, stop follow, stop scare. I hate it. But it’s not like crime, is more like a smack on my nose with a sock full of dimes. I won’t go to jail if I don’t bug them. And if I do bug them, I still might not go to pound-me-in-the-ass jail. So I’m not a jail bird (yet). Is it fair for the folks I stalk to call me this big phrase I don’t know what it means: “A Jew Dick Ate Head Stall Cur?” Or is that false to say since I was not found to be having guilt of a real crime? Can I sue this dumb bunch of poop heads and get the court to make them stop give me hurt in my butt, and give me big piles of cash for butt hurt cream and a big screen TV too?


Harry Splitter

Dear Bill,

Did you know that here at Just Answer, there is a back room contributor’s forum where we can post the stupidest questions we receive and laugh at the people who submit them? It’s nationwide, so it doesn’t matter if you post from Maryland, Wisconsin, California or anywhere else, we always figure out it’s you.  We even have monthly awards for the stupidest question. It’s only October 3rd and I already won the $200 pot. Thanks, man!

You are the most popular topic in the forums, with the possible exception of some crazy lesbian who just relocated from Oregon to California. You guys run neck-and-neck, which is actually a poor figure of speech in this case, because I‘ve seen pictures of each of you and there’s barely one neck to split between you both.

But we still do sort of have a responsibility to give these stupid goddamn questions some actual attention and thought, so…

Do you have a case for butthurt? No, and you never will. First, it’s not a tort.  That is an insurmountable obstacle.  Second, people are always going to call you names.That’s partly because you are an idiot, but mostly because you are a grandiose narcissist with skin thinner than an Amish phone book and you ALWAYS react to it, even if it is just to come here trying to hatch another stupid and pointless plan to file a lawsuit. Until you learn not to react to people making fun of you (and as near as I can tell, EVERYONE does whether you perceive it or not), you’re going to be a miserable fuck. You can still file a lawsuit, but you’ll lose before it ever gets inside a courtroom. I notice that you always have in the past.

I know this is supposed to be a site for LEGAL ADVICE, but let me step out from under my “almost an employable lawyer” hat and give you a bit of real advice.

These people cannot bother you if you stop visiting their sites ten times a day (which is frankly very damn stalkerish). They can’t hurt your butt if you shut off your computer. You need to throw away all your electronics and get a library card.  Given the quality of your writing, I suggest you start with Dr. Seuss, work your way up to Amelia Bedelia, then on to Henry Huggins and Encyclopedia Brown.  If you work hard at it, you might be ready for the first Harry Potter book by Christmas of 2017.

I grievously apologize for inserting voluminous quantities of multisyllabic vocabulary. You probably can’t understand but every seventh word or thereabouts, but actually, the average American knows almost every word I’ve used, or they know how to use a dictionary.  And if you don’t, well…the path to inner peace begins with four words: NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM.

Good luck, DUMBFUCK.


World-Famous Asshole/Fake Journalist Violates Every Ethical Principle He Can Remember And Several He Never Bothered To Learn

Bill Munko (proto-communist asshole) of St. Franci, Wisconsi, a wide-assed, tiny-brained, self-described but failed journalist who spends his days filing fatally-flawed lawsuits against his enemies and lying to federal judges to get free lawyers, is in the midst of a lawsuit he filed against people who make his fat butt hurt by accurately quoting him and exposing his embarrassing resemblance to a giant penis. Bertt Klimberin (leftist bomber and pedophile) of Bethesd, Marylan, the failed musician and self-important but uselessly litigious scam artist who runs the fake charity Justice Throw Moosic and leads Lillefeldt around by his alcohol-reddened false journalist nose, filed a motion containing a scandalous, impertinent, immaterial and false accusation against an uninvolved third party in a lawsuit where the poor dumb bastard is getting his drug-dealing ass kicked because he can’t follow the fucking rules, exactly what you’d expect of a parolee who’s spent most of his life under the direct or indirect supervision of the Corrections Division of the United States Department of Justice (if that’s the right name, who knows?). Paralegal WJJ Hoge posted a copy of that motion, leaving out the false and scandalous accusation leveled by Federal convict Bertt Coalman Klimberin, husband of Tittyana and father of one. That is to say, Hoge redacted the scandalous accusation, in much the same way that an honest and ethical journalist (unlike the penis-faced, fired-from-the-Examiner Lester Klemper) would do.

In effect, Mr. Hoge inserted himself into the story the way Bill Matthews would do, in the style of journalism verité that Matthews loves using as an excuse to avoid the obligation of objectivity which – if he paid it even the least attention – would cripple his undisguised bias toward godless communist policies, hard-left fascism and the attendant outright lying he employs in the stories he types (calling it writing is simply ridiculous) and publishes for no legitimate news organization. Except Hoge inserted himself as an agent of reasonableness and restraint, unlike the insane dickfaced weasel peddling bullshit from his mayonnaise-smeared Mangina Cave on the shore of Lake Michiga. Mr. Hoge deigns to refer to himself as a journalist, but a journalist like Billy Big Rig does not decide the truth of statements made in court motions. A journalist like Billy Big Rig either publishes the motion in full and comments on the portions he believes to be untrue — with supporting documentation as to why he has come to that conclusion. A true journalist like Anonymous, the world-renowned author of Confessions of An Internet Troll (or whatever the title is) and admitted author of this website, would publish the name of a rape victim or the name of Tittyana Klimberin’s elder daughter by [name redacted]. He does not deny his readers the opportunity to make their own decisions — although given that Mark in Maryland’s readers are entirely imaginary, it is likely they would believe whatever the Johnnie Walker-saturated anal rape enthusiast told them to believe.
In the interest of telling the entire story, the latest bullshit fake news site being parodied here magically obtained a copy of the motion, unredacted, and published it.

Being possessed of ethics, integrity, personal responsibility, self-control and wisdom, we will not repeat that grievous error.

Of interest is the fact that poor Wester Kwemper pretends to want to keep the anonymous source of that motion anonymous by FAILING to hew to his own supposed rules and provide the source of his information. Fortunately DerSchnitzelmeister is a fucking idiot, a fact so evident that there is no objective need to confirm it. Even so, confirmation exists.

When Brettsnutsack Bangsoffhischin uploaded the copy of the motion that he “obtained” to Scribd, he forgot to remove the metadata from the Microsoft Macintosh Word file he received. The author of the document he received is:

…aka Bertt Coalman Klimberin, alleged statutory rapist and possible father of one by his alleged victim.

Does DUMBFUCKERY run in the Munko family?

Well, his First Date Soulmate did marry him, so…maybe.


Nobody Pays Attention To Me Stalking Them!


There seems to be a great deal of pointage, laughery and mockification out there in all corners about my pending lawsuit to be dismissed in the US District court for the Northern District of Illinois.  People who haven’t (and won’t) even be named as defendants are writing blog posts pointing out my misunderstandings of the law, the fact that I do not know which rules are controlling in the jurisdiction, and that I still haven’t read the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure past a point where I see something I like.  They are also pointing out that I STILL DON’T GET that once a suit is dismissed with prejudice, any allegation that was made OR THAT COULD HAVE BEEN MADE in that lawsuit is now barred by res judicata.  My current FAILSUIT against Grady is loaded with false allegations against Grady that I cannot prove, and therefore will not be litigated at all.

Any party in the case of Schmalfeldt v (don’t forget the GS-13 Oxford comma!), Grady et al, in the U.S. (wait…does the GS-13 Stylebook call for “U.S.” as is shown here, or “US” like the previous paragraph?  Let’s look it up!  flip, flip, flip.. ah!  Here it is:  “We’re the US Government – fuck you and your illU.S.ions of consistency!”  Well, okay then.) District Court for the Northern District of the Central Division of the National League of Major League Baseball, any rebroadcast, retransmission, or account of this post, without the express written consent of Major League Baseball, is prohibited.

Where was I?

Oh yeah…Case #1:16-cv-7150, should address their concerns about the case to Michael Sorich, Esq., the poor luckless bastard who drew the short straw at the Cavanagh (GS13 proofreading powers – oh, fuckit!) Law Group and wound up saddled with this stillbirth of a complaint.  It is not incumbent on me to answer to or address misstatements of law made by defendants (named or yet to be named) in the case.  But you know I will because I just can’t help myself.  Call it Parkinson’s Dementia (which I don’t have)

Except when I do!
Except when I do!

or poor impulse control (which I also don’t have…poor impulse control would be a huge step up from the ABSOLUTE ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL that I actually have), eventually I’m going to not talk this case to death, all the while claiming that I actually am saying nothing (insert useful phrase here) about the case.

Which would be a true statement with the proper addition of the useful phrase “helpful to my attorney.”  I am merely providing my barely literate target audience (that’s YOU, Fifi!) with misinformation that will make me look sillier than usual (Dear Old Dad’s First Rule of Holes: KEEP DIGGING!) when I am yet again proven to be incorrect.

Again, my advice to everyone is Pointage, Laughery and Mockification.  It never fails.  Don’t overthink anything.  In fact, don’t think at all.

I never do.

There are currently two defendants in the case.  There may be more, unless I take my bitch attorney’s advice.  If there are, you can bet that my soon to be former slave lawyer tossed me into the street with some really good advice to get off the internet and don’t be such a fucking asshole, after which I paid the filing fee myself and added defendants who continue to hurt my butt.

That $400 would have bought a lot of ointment.

res judicata doesn’t apply because I am not alleging anything that I was so stupid that I dismissed with prejudice last year.  This time, I made a whole different batch of mistakes, such as [REDACTED – WE DO NOT EDUCATE THE MONKEY, EVEN THOUGH IT’S TOO LATE – PK].  Plus, the ever-present and inescapable fatal flaw is still ever-present and inescapable, so there’s that.

There will be an initial status hearing on September 29, provided my ethically constrained attorney has not done something ethical.

I understand the nervousness and anxiety.  I’ve lost six previous lawsuits without getting past a motion to dismiss because I’m an idiot who cannot be educated.  But this will be different, because I’m going to convince a former prosecutor that I’m perfectly sane, and that nine restraining orders in five states were all granted on account of lies about me posting things on the internet that only exist on my hard drive as far as I know.  But I never delete anything…and you can trust me on that.  I’m not saying I don’t have cause to be nervous or anxious, because with my history on the internet there is no way on Earth I’m going to convince a jury of reasonable people that defendants I have been harassing for only two years are responsible for some of the vile stuff that I have been writing for the last eight years.  My so-called “sterling reputation” was falling apart long before I conned my way into getting that “experimental” surgery.  I’m just saying…

Chill.  Lawyer up if you are dumb enough to believe that my attorney is going to agree that this complaint isn’t two quarts of Slovenian horseshit in a one quart Tupperware.  And remember, this has been four years in the making (three of which are barred by res judicata).  What will be will be…the same thing that has always been…

Pointless, but worthy of pointage. Unfunny, but laughable.  And oh, so mockworthy.

Loosen up your lulz muscles.  Buy moar popcorn.  Find a comfy spot.

And wait for the Karma stick to strike.

What will be will be…JOVIAL.




Did LiberalGrouch16 Get The Bad Touch From His Daddy?


And just in case you’re wondering what it is parodying, click here. DUMBFUCK has already spoliated that evidence.   

I have reasons to suspect that William M. Schmalfeldt may have been abused by its father.

I have no proof. Just suspicions.

I know its wife would rather be dead than with it in his St. Francis, WI, apartment Manatee Cave.

God only knows what went on when The BLOB’s father went into his sons’ bedrooms to tuck them in at night. Both of them are grown up now (though one is dead as a doornail – one word). Both grew up idiots and were empowered to sleep with sit on the laps of brutal men like their father. Is that a clue? I have no idea.

But we don’t need to have evidence, do we? William M. Schmalfeldt has been referring to people as having committed the most loathsome of crimes. Is it projecting?

William M. Schmalfeldt writes a lot about child sexual abusers, the things they know, the way they act. Is it speaking from experience?

Its wife lives in another kingdom half a planet away from it, though she speaks to it through its clock urn and occasionally from “Mother Mammary” clouds. Its children were hidden from it by its ex-wives so it could not pee on them, no matter what its motivation.

And William sits in its Manatee Cave, drunk, deranged, demented and depraved (and in default, don’t disregard!) having tantrums about everything (one word) written about it on every other blog but its own.

The internet enables this drunken, deranged, demented, depraved, defaulted, and depressed loser by giving it space to blog. This is after William M. Schmalfeldt was kicked off every blog ever fouled by its presence.

William M. Schmalfeldt is a tormented man who I suspect may be agonizing over the memory of having abused peed on its now abandoned children. The only way it can deal with its own crimes against nature, against society, against the fabric of its family (in my opinion) is to project its actual crimes onto someone it’s never met, it doesn’t know, and then lash out at that person as a way of self-flagellation.

If the St. Francis nuns were “in the know” property owners, they would stop enabling William M. Schmalfeldt’s cyberstalking and harassment. But the St. Francis nuns are not privy to DUMBFUCK’s child stalking, to his (in my opinion) child pron, to his diminished capacity LOLsuits and to his 9 restraining orders in 5 states (if not more). Therefore, it serves its purpose to generate controversy, no matter how false the narrative, no matter how twisted, sick and crazy the person telling the story.

(I know, sometimes I just stop writing right in the middle of my screed because, *hic*, it’s time for another. Come hither, my little palsy-walsy. I’ve only had half the bottle.)