…who likes to do what the grownups tell him he shouldn’t?
Like “Don’t make child pornography.”
Or “Stop cyberstalking people.”
Or “Stop harassing people.”
Or “Stop doxing people.”
Or “Stop trying to get people fired for simply refusing to put up with your shit.”
Or “Stop your 24/7/365 hunt for butthurt at least long enough to spend a few last quality moments with your Banged-Her-On-the-First-Date Soulmate as she finally escapes the worst mistake of her life.”
Or “Stop telling people you have a girlfriend when everyone knows it’s you and a blow up doll.”
“Stop filing nuisance lawsuits until you figure out the simple concept of personal jurisdiction.”
“Stop pretending you know anything about law, or that you didn’t get bitchslapped in Wisconsin by the one lawyer you hate most in the world.”
You know…stuff like that. We tell you not to do all these things, and it’s all for your own good, yet you persist.
So I guess I will too.
Bill Schmalfeldt – always punching up, because he has no other option
Did Brett Kimberlin relocate to Austin, Texas?
But, but, but…RUSSIAN PEE PEE HOOKERS!
With that Waffle House next door, he’s probably more dedicated to expanding his waistline just now.
Actually, this time it was a local private investigator named Cliff Swallow that someone hired after a private crowdfunding effort (thanks to all who chipped in!).
The Tramway Inn at 13139 Central Ave. SE is a two star gem, and a luxurious upgrade for DUMBFUCK and Inflataskank.
No pesky relatives around to try to stop the gaslighting of the All New & Improved Captive Nurse 2.0, you see.
Plus, there is plenty of good light for monkeyfucking the keyboard to produce LOLSUIT IX – JURISDICTION IS FOR SUCKS.
And the business center only charges 20¢ per page to print.
Try “wrought” next time, you stupid, lying, bigoted, racist, lying, misogynist, lying motherfucker.
Did I mention he’s a liar?
GS-13 Writer/Editor? Try GS-1 keyboard banger.
Which of these tweets drips with more projection?
I say the reply.
“My father was slaughtered by a six-fingered man. He was a great swordmaker, my father. When the six-fingered man appeared and requested a special sword, my father took the job. He slaved a year before it was done.
The six-fingered man returned and demanded it, but at one tenth his promised price. My father refused. Without a word, the six-fingered man slashed him through the heart. I loved my father. So naturally, I challenged his murderer to a duel. I failed. The six-fingered man left me alive, but he gave me these.
I was eleven years old. And when I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing. So the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to the six-fingered man and say, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
“I just want to be left alone to live my life with my former fiancé (it’s just ‘inflat-a-sweetie’ now) now that we’ve gotten rid of that hideous show cat I had to pretend to like, and forget that these people ever drew breath. And I’m going to hound them every day until they do.”
Sorry, DUMBFUCK. It doesn’t work that way. You’ll have to win a lawsuit before anyone leaves you alone.
Even taking the Cure isn’t enough anymore.