$675 In Book Sales – A DUMBFUCK Life Well Lived

For some reason, people of like mind always seem to find each other in this world.  For example, you’ll find people with Napoleon complexes gravitating toward people who obsess over proving all that they have “achieved” in their lives.  And then they find that everyone in their little clique has a tiny penis, which is a mercy for the underage children they fantasize about.

There are good and true descriptive words for people of this stripe.  One is FAILURE. Another is INFERIOR.  But my favorite, as you might guess, is DUMBFUCK.

It seems that one of these FAILURES, these INFERIOR DUMBFUCKS, would like to have a pissing contest over who sells more books, CDs or has more podcast listeners. Because FAILED, INFERIOR DUMBFUCKS need to ram their faces into brick walls and measure the blood spatter as if it’s an “achievement.” But I have learned many things about DUMBFUCKS in my life, and one of the easiest ways to frustrate a DUMBFUCK is by denying them the thing they want most.

For example, my name.

For another example, comparison on its terms. Continue reading “$675 In Book Sales – A DUMBFUCK Life Well Lived”

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It Is Simply Amazing

…the things you can learn on the Internet, if you know where to look.

For instance, the topic of asymmetric warfare is particularly fascinating.

Sun-Tzu’s The Art of War.

The virtue of prudence.

The Boy Scout motto.

The untraceability of BitCoin.

Better living through chemistry.

 

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Minor Bleg

So I’ve been thinking – do I really want a copy of Animus Nocendi?

No.

I mean, if it’s only his handlers and the missus buying up copies, what do I care?

If someone sent me a free copy, I have many more valuable ways of using my time than walking to the recycle bin and dropping it in, to say nothing of actually reading it.

The toilet paper idea has merit, though, I must admit. Especially if it’s free.

But if some folks out there wanted to drop a buck or two in the tip jar over on the right, and if there came enough coin to make that purchase, then I would have an opportunity to investigate what sort of Fair Use he might be making of my content.

I still don’t know if I would want to file a claim. After all, I am merely a fictional zombie, comfy-cozy behind what has been up to now an invulnerable shield of anonymity. I like it here. Calling Krendler names means nothing to me. Maybe it would bug Thomas Harris, if he cared about such things. Maybe someone should contact his publisher to find out.

Anyway, if there’s an infringement complaint to be made, I will be measuring the relative damage caused by his “Fair Use” against my certainty of his motive for what he may or may not have done.

And his motive, as usual, is all too transparent. He intends to violate my copyright (and exercise any other weakshit tactic he can think of) until I decide that anonymity is less desirable than kicking his ass around a courtroom.

That day may never come. For now, I’m content to punch back twice, no, ten times harder. But if the day comes, I will have to consider whether I will want to pursue that case anonymously as well. To do that will require an attorney, and that’s no penny-ante game, particularly with no promise of payable damages on the other side from an indigested dyspeptic conspiree.

So, I don’t demand that you hit the freaking tip jar. Those 5 words are very important, it’s true, but there are others moreso for a zombie in my position.

But if you are inclined, I would be most grateful.      

 

P.S. – Please note for future reference that I am planning a Major Bleg soon. But don’t worry, it has nothing to do with money.  At least not on the front end.

P.P.S – This is the 101st post on this blog.  So that’s pretty cool.  Thanks to all who keep me going by encouraging my frivolity.

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We Didn't Start the Fire

Oh, dear. A fight. A punch has been thrown. And of course, the Fuhrer of Footlongs, the Marshall of Mayonnaise, didn’t throw it!

He would never do that. He never throws the first punch. He said so. And we know he never lies.

Apparently, calling the Walking Wiener a “cyberthug” constitutes a punch.

On Friday.

On Friday, punch thrown, fight started! Q.E.D.

Friday.

I realize I once told the old man to get a mallet, head for the nearest beach, and pound all that sand up his ass. What I didn’t know is that he missed and filled his vagina instead.

All worked up over being referred to as what he is. Boo hoo hoo.

But he doesn’t understand what’s happening. After a settlement was reached on the 14th, WJJ Hoge did indeed ask his readers, a loyal bunch if nothing else,

I recommend that Bill Schmalfeldt be given the opportunity to make the changes in his Internet presence that he described to me. He will probably be more successful in doing so if folks don’t joggle his elbow. Each person is free to speak, largely limited by their conscience and a few rules, but it may be best to give him some space for a few days to see how he does.

My feeling was very much the same. Up to a point. As a sign of good faith, I changed my Twitter avatar and stopped posting here. A show of good faith is one thing. But I am not a fool. I know the brand of monster we’re dealing with.

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I was ready and willing to leave him alone. In fact, I did.

And then this happened:

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“…or he can sell his blog.”

That quote was his next tweet, and it didn’t include my handle. He’s taken his account private again. A great way to promote his book, yeah?

Did he think I wasn’t paying attention? “Trust…but verify.”

I’m always watching. But, in good faith, in the interest of “not jostling his elbow,” I stayed my hand. I kept my peace.

On Wednesday. In good faith, I remained quiet. “Nary a peep from the boy,” said the Mooky button pusher. “Looks as though Krendler has gone private at least on Twitter,” said the silver-haired cartoon button pusher.

Yes. For four months now, dim cartoon girl.

FOCUS.

Speaking of focus, Wednesday comes before Friday, right?

Ok. Just checking.

See, on Wednesday, TWO DAYS BEFORE he was called a “cyberthug,” the cyberthug was letting his followers know that he was creating a new Ktrl-C/Ktrl-V masterpiece featuring yours truly.

Who gives a bright blue fuck what he’s going to do? Nobody’s going to read his lies but him. If it salves his microscopic black heart to fabulize his pathetic existence for an audience of zero, who am I to stop him from doing so?

Or care?

A “true” (read “bullshit”) story featuring a fictional kharacter kalled Krendler kompletely kicking his keister over a kopyright kase?

I am a character. As I said before, HE DOES NOT KNOW WHO I AM.

Oh, but he desperately wanted to, didn’t he? Oh yes, he did:

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This is something, you understand, that was sufficiently on his mind to send to me, where it remains in Moderation Purgatory (still got an outstanding question waiting for an answer), on INDEPENDENCE DAY.

But now, see, he just wants to tell the tale. He just wants the truth (read “bullshit”) out there. He no longer cares who I am!

I’m nobody.

Or am I?

Because this fight, which started Friday, was prefaced on Wednesday by this comment, which also sits in my moderation queue:

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Does that sound like a CHALLENGE?

I thought IT WAS OVER!! I thought WE SHOOK HANDS AND WALKED AWAY!!

And thank God for that. Because

HE
NEVER
STARTS
ANYTHING,
DOES
HE?

Nawwwww…

So, howzat for a gut punch, you – what’s that phrase you like so much? Oh yes – you cum gargling fuckwit?

Do you understand now, you lonely, twisted old control freak? This is what it means to have friends. You attack one, you attack us all. The enemies you have made (a/k/a the answer to the outstanding question) are EVERYWHERE. When you say “mind your own business & go back to your knitting,” we respond with hearty laugh and an even more hearty “Fuck you.”

And we always will. So get comfortable. And enjoy your websites. I do.

UPDATE – He has spoken. From the greasy, verminous, cockroach-infested garbage bins deep in the fetid, stinking bowels of cyberspace (conveniently located in a trailer park in Elkridge, MD), he left a couple small piles in Moderation Purgatory. Neither is an answer to the outstanding question, and thus both are as irrelevant and as unworthy of publication as the rest of his simian keyboard-smashings.

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My New Business Venture

Since my current digs are so affordable (rent free, baby!) and spacious, and I have an absentee landlord (one might say he’s … wait for it… out of his mind), I thought I might start a little home business.

It’s a niche restaurant.  Craft beer and condiments.

THIS

is what happens when someone challenges me.  I have fun.

All I have – is FUN!

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