But Bill Schmalfeldt Is Totally NOT A RACIST

How are YOU expecting the President to misspell “Niger,” DUMBFUCK?


Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave – Part the Second

So, last night, we fisked the shit out of Billy-boy’s non-apology apology to me. I’m sure that you all have seen what we have posted over at Billy Sez about how the corpulent one has doubled down on said non-apology. It’s just truly amazing how he keeps doing the same things over and over and over again, getting the same result, each and every time. It’s as if he thinks he’s the only one in the room with a brain. He’d actually better rethink that train of thought because if he IS the only one in the room with a brain and he’s with the zombie horde…. Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be a pleasant dinner party for Billy, now would it? Heh!


Continue reading “Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave – Part the Second”


Totally Billogical!

My heart goes out to the family of any child injured in an accident. But we also know how many times we have been burned by relying on information posted on this blog. Still, I suppose as soon as someone verifies that this actually happened, I would have little choice but to drop my lawsuit against Patrick Grady. Or, we can NOT verify it, I can go on wondering if this is just another lame attempt to punk me, and the case moves on.


So at the time TTT Man left that comment in the Spam folder last week, he believed he was being pranked by Krendler.  But he’s obviously too smart for that!  Or at least, after being punked about 14 times previously … it was convenient to hedge his bets and declare he didn’t believe that Paul’s daughter was injured without some sort of verification.

Of course, by the same standards he holds, it stands up to the very same reasoning to assume that Gail is neither dying, in the hospital, nor even in ill health. After all, there is no independent verification of any of that information; nothing but the word of a known and proven liar.  For all that’s been proved, she’s sitting on the sofa watching the Orioles game.

But, but, but, and AGAIN, But!

Today, Krendler noted that his daughter received flowers from John.

From this one little sentence, and the leaps Billy has made has using the stunning dubious powers of intellect God has graced him with, we can take a logical stab at further extrapolating the conclusions he will reach if he stays true and consistent to his methodology.

Now stay with me Zombie Horde! It gets a bit twisty here.

1. John Who?

Well, given that it’s only the MOST COMMON GIVEN NAME FOR MEN in the entire English language … therefore it must be not just any John, but John Hoge!

John Hoge sent Krendler’s daughter flowers in the hospital!

2. That must mean…

John Hoge knows who Paul Krendler is!!

3. And from here we get...


Now, unfortunately for DUMBFUCK, if it means that, it means something else, too. This is where we pick up where DUMBFUCK left off and finish the line of logic out to its ultimate and totally rational conclusion (if we are DUMBFUCK, that is).

4. So, what else does it mean?

If John Hoge sent flowers to Krendler’s daughter in the hospital, proving that Hoge lied under oath (PERJURY!!ELEVENTY!!11!!!), then that means…

5. Krendler’s daughter is IN THE HOSPITAL!!

And if Krendler’s daughter is in the hospital, then…

6. DUMBFUCK must follow through on his own pronouncement.

I would have little choice but to drop my lawsuit against Patrick Grady.

Because DUMBFUCK is honorable.

Because DUMBFUCK is a man of his word.


Because DUMBFUCK is a worthless, soulless, insane, lying, sociopathic craprolling shitsniffer for whom truth is Silly Putty, to be twisted, bent and smashed to fit whatever magical mold he needs it to fit so that his narrative can advance.

I would cheerfully make the Feldtchart for Billy so that he can see up close and personal the way his logic works when applied to these sorts of situations. 

So we can expect Hoge’s perjury, proved beyond all doubt by the delivery of flowers and balloons to Krendler’s daughter, to lead to the dismissal of his suit against Patrick Grady any day now, right?


The Billogic is unconquerable.


Good Morning, DUMBFUCK!


I betcha DUMBFUCK didn’t pay no $35,000 in licensing fees for the right to publicize Pablo’s nice rack.

And I’ll bet Pablo will confirm in very short order that your average DUMBFUCK BLORKHUFFER is a gigantic hypocrite whose life could only be improved by going Tango Uniform.


Good Morning, DUMBFUCK!


You know what I love about a DUMBFUCK?

Nothing.  There’s absolutely not a single lovable atom in its entire being.

This is not to say it has no value.  As a source of unintentional entertainment, I’m nearly prepared to say that this particular DUMBFUCK is currently without equal among its peers on Team Kimberlin.

For instance, the monologue above made me laugh so hard I nearly threw up my lunch.  The constant and unerring ability to carve out an exception for its own behavior while condoning far less in others astounds beyond description.

It claims control over its name and its image.  Anyone who uses it is guilty of heinous crimes.

Here’s a hint about privacy for a DUMBFUCK: if someone sends you a stinky candle, and you don’t want people to laugh at you over it, you poor, pitiful sociopath (tough shit because it’s a fucking laugh riot), maybe you shouldn’t make and post a goddamn YouTube video about it.

Just sayin’.

If a blogger writes about you, quotes you, uses images of you – THAT YOU HAVE MADE PUBLIC – in writings that he published free of charge, while making available through his website unrelated products, links to unrelated retail websites, and a tip jar for unreciprocated donations, he has fairly RAPED your reputation.

But let you take that blogger’s name and his photograph, plaster them across the cover of one of your copyright-infringing cut-and-paste masturbatory fantasies, and put it up for sale on multiple retail websites? Oh that’s just fine and dandy! There’s no violation of the “right to publicity” in selling a book with someone else’s name and photo on the cover!  

FIRST AMENDMENT!  Amirite, or what?

That’s good to know, because I’m thinking of writing a children’s book.  Tell me what you think of this title:

Everyone Poops, But Not Everyone Picks It Up, Rolls It Into a Ball And Sniffs It
I think it’s got the potential to be a best-smeller!


4002 Words on the Subject

…of Bill Schmalfeldt’s assertion that he must give permission before anyone can appropriate his name or image for commercial purposes:

5-22-2015 9-21-21 AM

Goodreads Int Inf

BN Int Inf

Amazon Int Inf

4 Pictures @ 1000 words ea = 4000 words.  Still need 2 more…



What A Nice, Quiet, Peaceful Day

Not much happening today, except for some disappearing Twitter accounts. Seems like our Cabin Boy™ has crawled into a hole and pulled it in behind him.

Maybe he’s writing another federal complaint for butthurt – LULZsuit 2: Electric Boogaloo!

But hey, as long as he’s quiet for another thirteen and a half day more days, of his own free will, I’ll shut this blog down and stop mocking him.

So you just stay nice and quiet, you Demented Oedipal Cyberstalking Freak, and you’ll get all the LEAVE. ME. ALONE. that you can handle.

There’s a good lad.

Peace, my new best friend!

Be well.

“Paul Krendler”


Flaildox in Process Number 8935.3 – and I'm Whipping this BOY into Shape, I am!

I decided, as I oft-times will, to cut to the chase and decide to go with my ever-churning guts and flaildox the living f*ck out of someone. Just because it’s so much fun. (Editor’s note: And all we have is FUN!)

I just called some poor schmuck at work, and was ever-so polite! We were chatting quite amicably until I mentioned my name and asked if it rang a bell with him. There was a pause, followed by…

“Uh, no?” 

I said, “Good. I got your name from these court filings and because I’m the world’s most creepiest stalker who insists on inserting himself into everything just because I can…”



So, here’s what we have so far in my epic quest to be the worst doxxer in history.

In Part One, we told the tale of how Heide Iravani and Britten Heller decided to not just lay there and take their abuse in good spirits, but instead sued several anonymous pigs in a case that became known as the AutoAdmit Suit. I received an anonymous tip last night that suggested I look into the writing style of one of the unmasked anonymous pigs because I like being led around by my nose ring. Just like a pig. Or rather a bull. I’m so very fond of bulls and their large memb… oh wait. Sorry. What I found was disgusting, but all too familiar because I jump to the biggest improbable, yet logical connections, at least to my mind, all the time, especially when I’m being led around by my nose ring.

In Part Two, we (notice how I switched back to the Royal “We”? It’s a literary conceit that I like to use to make myself feel better about myself since my writing basically sucks.) talked about how the abuse Heide and Britten fought was recreated less than a year after the suit was settled by some clod using a variety of handles in his personal war against someone named Deborah Frisch. We alluded to information concerning an ongoing harassment of a young lady who has not yet given us permission to use her name, but that I was willing to doxx just because I was once again led down the garden path by my handlers and Lord knows that I always go where I am led, um, where the EVIDENCE leads.

The writing styles in all these cases of online abuse are remarkably similar to the sort of harassment I have received from “Paul Krendler,” “Leroy Schmalfeldt (formerly known as Leroy Oddswatch), somebody named A.B. who vanished after I outed him as a fake Middle Tenneessee University graduate named Andrew Ballard, and — how could we leave out “Howard Earl”?

Are these five separate people? Or are they one and the same? Because there couldn’t POSSIBLY be more than one person out there who doesn’t like the extortionate tactics that I use to get information out of people, that I use to crawl into their lives where I have no business and that I slime around in just because I want to because it’s the only way I can have any sort of a life.

The person I called this afternoon could have answered that question for me, if he didn’t freak out and hang up as soon as I told him I got his name from court documents; because goodness knows that people don’t want to talk to strangers who look them up out of the blue to ask intrusive questions about something that their lawyers have probably told them not to talk about to others in order to protect their own interests and their ability to defend themselves in the case. And ESPECIALLY to talk to people who they aren’t even involved with and ESPECIALLY when they don’t even know the name of the person calling them.

That person’s name is a matter of public record as a named defendant in the AutoAdmit suit. His name is Mathew C. Ryan (one “t”) of Austin, Texas, not to be confused with the noted and respected attorney, also from Austin, named Matthew C. Ryan (two “t’s” plus four “n’s” and a silent “q” because God only knows how awful it would be if I were to flaildox TWO PEOPLE AT ONCE!!!111!!11ELEVENTY!!!!).

As I wait to see whether or not the judge allows me to continue my suit IFP, I will give Mr. Krendler a chance to explain his bad self. The best explanation would be to shut down his hate blog and salt the earth over it so nothing grows there again. Because OBVIOUSLY he is this Mathew C. Ryan who hung up on me – because who on earth BUT KRENDLER would not want to talk to me? But mostly just because he hung up on me. Or just because I said so. Yeah. That last bit.

Then, when that day comes, I will ask WJJ Hoge III why he does business with people like this, people who I have decided are who they are with no true proof except my say-so, who harass innocent people, women and the disabled – which is TOTALLY not like how I do things. Because you just KNOW that the Stranahans were lying about that dead baby of theirs. I have proof! In my HEAD! But back to Hoge. Does this fulfill some sort of “need to get even” from being bullied in his youth? I have no idea. But I know that what I do is because I need to feel more important than anybody else in the whole world. Because I’m RIGHT DAMMIT! And that trumps everything else.
But I intend to find out.

If you would like to speak to Mr. Ryan, shoot me an e-mail at lordofsatire at gmail dot com, and I’ll hook you up.