You Don’t Say!

Well, if that’s the standard…

I have received information from an individual concerning the bodies of dozens of missing homeless people that may or may not be buried in mass graves scattered around the properties of Senator Dianne Feinstein. That individual strongly requested confidentiality, declined to come forward or press the matter further, and I have honored Mrs. Pelosi’s decision. I have, however, referred the matter to federal and local investigative authorities.


Poor Bill Schmalfeldt

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt.

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt, who retired from the National Institutes of Health in 2010 due to “Parkinson’s Disease” aka “Any excuse to get rid of a worthless oxygen thief disease.

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt, photographed wearing military honors he cannot prove he earned.

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt, telling stories of military exploits he cannot prove he

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt, who spent a decade slandering people who disagreed with him on dozens of internet forums.

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt, who eight times sued those who gave back better than he could dish out.

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt, whose soulmate died in the other room while he checked his email.

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt, who couldn’t live on a pauper’s retirement, forced back into the workforce at the mighty five state Big Talker in Guymon, Oklahoma.

Poor Guymon, Oklahoma.

Can you feel the sadness? The heavy weight of darkness in poor Bill Schmalfeldt’s heart as he was forced by financial irresponsibility to leave his cozy beachside retirement in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina? The mourning as he was forced once more for the fifth time, to leave behind a beloved pet? Yes, it’s true – Monty, the Collusion Cat was left behind to weather Hurricane Florence after being promised the producer gig on Bill’s new radio show in the Oklahoma panhandle, just as Onyx was abandoned before him, and Boris and Jake and St. Gail in Iowa before her, just like Raven and Shiloh in Maryland before them.

He’s ready now to let bygones be bygones, big-hearted, forgiving guy that he is. Sorry, I’ve heard this tune before, and the Boy Who Cried Defamation has no credibility.

One might think someone had taken poor Bill Schmalfeldt’s office telephone number (580-338-1210) or his office address (2300 N. Leila, Guymon, OK 73942) and suggested that they be used to improperly harass him. Nobody I know would ever CONSIDER doing such a thing, however deserved it may be. It would be wrong. And two wrongs do not make a right. But three lefts do!

But let your hearts not be heavy, gentle reader. I, for one, do not believe there is any actual harassment going on here.  Bill Schmalfeldt might SAY he is being harassed, but he doesn’t even work at KGYN. Bill Mathews does, but Bill Schmalfeldt’s name is never heard there.

I say that unless someone is dragging Bill Schmalfeldt OUT OF HIS WORKPLACE and BREAKING HIS KNEES WITH BASEBALL BATS because of this, then there is nothing for him to worry about. Words are just words, and they cannot harm you.  “Sticks and stones,” as they say.

Or, baseball bats.

And let it NOT be said that the The Thinking Man’s Zombie advocates anyone using baseball bats to break the kneecaps of Bill Schmalfeldt! Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, if you have it in your mind that if John Hoge, Eric Johnson, Sarah Palmer, Patrick Grady, Lee Stranahan, Ken White, Patrick Frey, David Edgren, Aaron Walker, Robert Stacy McCain, Ali Alexander, Cinnamon from DailyKos, or any of the dozens of other people whom Bill Schmalfeldt has stalked and harassed on a regular basis for the last decade are friends of yours, and that Mr. Bill Schmalfeldt DESERVES to have his knees broken with baseball bats, let me dissuade you of that notion here and now.

That is not what baseball bats were made for.

For one thing, a wooden bat could break if it were used in such a reckless and lawless fashion. And if you think you can get around that by using an aluminum bat, guess again. An aluminum bat (unless it is reinforced with a lead center) would likely bend under such pressure.  Now, I hear the crafty ones out there saying, “Yeah? Well, what if I drill out the center of a WOODEN baseball bat, fill IT with lead, cover the tip with Plastic Wood?  Wouldn’t THAT do the job?”

Again, I say, you are wasting your time with all that effort.  Tire irons are much more readily available.

And I am NOT saying that Bill Schmalfeldt deserves to be dragged from his workplace, wherever it is, out to the street, and thus have his knees broken by ANYTHING, be it a tire iron, or a lead pipe, or a lead-filled baseball bat. Nor should he be taken by a group of seven or eight strong men (or twelve or fifteen, he’s a lardy fellow) and thrown in front of a moving truck.  You would have to consider the emotional damage that would be done to the innocent truck driver unless the truck driver agrees to be part of your conspiracy in the first place. Plus, a truck might swerve to miss Bill Schmalfeldt, the driver could lose control, jackknife his trailer and cause a lot of unintentional damage to innocent people and property instead of to Bill Schmalfeldt.  And if it’s a truck with a hazardous payload, like sulfuric acid, I don’t think I need to tell YOU how severe the environmental damage would be.

So, NO! Do NOT hit Bill Schmalfeldt with baseball bats or lead pipes or tire irons on his knees, arms, elbows, shins, or any other parts of his body.  It would be painful and degrading, moreso to you as an outraged, but otherwise law-abiding citizen.  It would ruin your life if the authorities caught you and decided to press charges.  I understand in some localities, the authorities tend to turn a blind eye to stalkers and bullies getting a deserved comeuppance.  I could not hazard a guess as to whether Guymon is such a community, if Bill Schmalfeldt does in fact live there.

So, let’s leave things as they are. Let Bill Schmalfeldt alone to live with the dark deeds he has perpetrated in the past. Let yourself not be dragged down to his Neanderthal level and degrade yourself by using brute force to punish his many, many alleged crimes against nature and humanity.

Know that the sternest punishment one can legally employ against blackguards like Bill Schmalfeldt is the sure and certain knowledge that when he awakens each morning, he will still be…

Bill Schmalfeldt.

And God shall deal with his sins. Probably with a fugly woman to live with. One who would rather play Final Fantasy and pretend to #RESIST on Twitter, while waiting for promised repairs to her vandalized cemetery of a chomp hole.

Poor Bill Schmalfeldt.


Using the Same Timetable…

I guess you can expect me to “move on with my life” in about six more years then!

Question for you, Mister I’ve-Moved-On – have ALL the restraining orders expired yet, stalker?

Oh, DUMBFUCK – would that you had only listened to me rather than giving in to your inner demons when you ran across someone more intelligent, more focused and more dedicated than you (though I think we both know that’s not saying much).


Rejected Political Book Titles

Lately I have been seeing a lot of lists of rejected children’s book titles. It’s an old joke, but the titles endure, you can find them yourself if you like.

One in particular struck me as relevant in the last couple of days, you see it on almost every list:

You Are Different and That’s Bad

What struck me about this title is that by switching two words, the title summarizes the current Leftist philosophy, strategy and tactical intent quite neatly…

TRUMP IS Different and That’s Bad

That’s astute, I think.  Also, inspiriational.

Here’s a list of rejected political book titles, some based on titles found elsewhere, and some not:

  1. Trump Is Different and That’s Bad
  2. MS-13 Has the Best Candy
  3. Mom’s New Wife Caitlyn
  4. The Only Good Republican Is John McCain
  5. Socialism Works! You Just Aren’t Doing It Right
  6. HACKED! Sending Dirty Pictures and Getting Away with It
  7. No Human Is Illegal Unless They’re Not Born Yet
  8. Curious Yang Chen and the Email Server in the Bathroom
  9. Things Politicians Have but You Never Will
  10. Don’t Cry, Jimmy! A White House Press Briefing
  11. The Little Sissy Who Snitched – The Seth Rich Story
  12. Ugly Harvey Was So Bad He Can’t Even Buy Friends
  13. Timmy Votes the Wrong Way to Be Your Friend
  14. Antifa: Using Playground Violence to Get Your Way
  15. F Tha Police! Tomorrow’s Crime Victim Speaks Out Today
  16. Gender Dysphoria and You: A Guide by The Baskin-Robbins Sex Change Institute
  17. Why Nothing Reasonable Happens In Washington: Insufficient Opportunities for Graft and Corruption
  18. Obamacare Is Like Shit: You Have to Pass It to Find Out What’s in It
  19. How Much Is Your Fair Share? And Other Questions Democrats Can’t Answer
  20. Unemployed and Saddled with Debt: Your Gender Studies Degree
  21. Senator Reid and the Filibuster: A Lesson in Karma

Please – add your own contributions!


Same Thing You Do Every Other Time, DUMBFUCK

Cry when you get pwned by Trump’s continuous #WINNING.

Or when the kids tease you because they’re jealous of what a fat bastard you are.


It’s Not Just the Media

I had similar, more verbose thoughts recently here.

I think there are two related contributing factors that make the media’s specific strain of Trump Derangement Syndrome so virulent.

Since 1974, there has really been one place to go if you want to get rid of a politician who really doesn’t want to get with the program, and that’s to the media.  Since the resignation of Nixon and the publication of All the President’s Men, followed by the movie and that heartthrob Robert Redford taking down the White House, that’s been every journalist’s dream equivalent of a pony on Christmas morning.

And up to now, they’ve never gotten another sitting president.  Oh, sure, there was Gary Hart, but he was only a frontrunning candidate then, and the media bias had not yet sufficiently evolved to make him invulnerable. By 2012, they had tagged Mitt Romney is the guy with binders full of women locked in a cage on the roof of his car with a bunch of Russians, the biggest geopolitical threat of the new century (what an idiotic thing that was to say, amirite? Obama and the Dems sure knew better, didn’t they?)

Since the day in 2015 when he announced his candidacy, Donald Trump has been the low-hanging fruit that every journalist hopes to build a career on. So why can’t they get to him? I mean, look at the cartoon!  The man is crazy! Everyone knows it!


I mean, Trump MUST be insane, mustn’t he? Because if HE’S not crazy, then that must mean…

…and alternative too unspeakable to contemplate.

On the plus side – unlimited applesauce!


Who Can It Be, Knockin’ At My Door?

Imagine all the people…livin’ life in pe-eace, woo-oo-ooh.

Poor DUMBFUCK. Can’t stop being a Peeping Tom, can’t stop leaving huge fucking internet footprints under the windowsills.

Don’t go away mad, DUMBFUCK.  Just go away.

You too, balloon bitch.

#Where’sStGotCU? #Goodwill?