Saturday, November 03, 2012

awright assholes (on trolls and eternal kiddies)

Here's the deal: I know some of you fuckers in the book are going to screw with me once the book is out on the DC Madam. Oh yes, you're in it, Sunshine, and nope, I'm not the first, or the last, to publish on it. I know from experience now that you're dumb enough to keep hitting me with fake cease and desists, all kinds of threats to intimidate. None of that's going to work, save it, that is, unless you want me to be able to accumulate enough evidence for a legal counterattack that will surely decimate you, because I'll go for damages, bank on it.

This site gets no more than one hundred hits-per-day, we're talking page views. No judge in the continental United States would even hear a libel/defamation case on that one alone, because it would then be virtually impossible to establish that I was even remotely capable of inflicting any harm on anyone's reputation or their ability to make a living, just the opposite, it would be a laughable endeavor. Take me to court simply to inflict financial harm on me? Civil court procedure would allow me to yank even more information about you and drag into the public record, and mark these words: I would in a way that would be perfectly germane to the suit filed against me, so, better not have any skeletons lying around. Also, I have enough paralegal experience and general researching ability to do the vast majority of that side of the process, and so, once again, you'd better have a damned reason to come at me, because I'll back at you like the Soviets routing the Wermacht, I'll eat your ass alive.

I play for keeps. I'm not fucking around. This book is serious, your behavior is your fault, and you have to pay the consequences for it, not I. If that's hard for you to comprehend or to accept, ask me the chasms of space, of the depths of I-don't-give-a-fuck on my end of the equation, it's infinite and unbending as death. If you were in public office, if you were playing football for Annapolis and posting things about yourself online to promote your ugly visage, if you were a government contractor written and spoken of endlessly in the media, if you're a federal jurist, a former AUSA or USA, military adviser, an employee of a government contractor with a public presence, you have no recourse over my book. I don't make allegations when I know the facts. I don't speculate and not tell the reader when I'm doing so, it's made clear.

I believe the primary evidence in the book speaks for itself. However, with few exceptions, none of you were involved in the case the way I was, even others who were. My association with Jeane was unique, because we were both outsiders in this rotten society, her witch to my warlock, call it what you will, but I am in general opposition to the overarching culture in the United States and always will be. Nothing will ever change this. America was a criminal nation from its inception. These goofy incidents of online harassment, these nebbish, lying, scummy, pathetic attempts to intimidate and silence me are eternal examples of how privileged people with no values, no character, and no just cause, undermine themselves and solidify opposition. This is how scoundrels go down, and how empires blow their balls off and accelerate the process of their disempowerment. If you want to be one more animal like that, great, jerk yourself off on that one. History is littered with this shit, and I know human history very well, better than you by miles, because I understand its nature.

Know this: if you come at me, you just promoted the book better than I ever could.

Also, anyone making the comment, "Be careful, you might end up like Gary Webb," even in jest, will be exiled permanently, you will no longer communicate with me, there will be no more replies. My rules. Don't like them, go whimper to someone who gives a shit.

If there's even one comment that Jeane was "suicided," you will be exiled, never to return, access gone forever, no reprieves. No one is wasting my time, your ego is overrated, and you have small dick, because the majority of you are males, not men., not adults, but mooks, even you boomer males who needed gelding a long way back. I don't care about your fucking opinions, so save it. This was my experience, not yours. You don't know as much as you think you do. In fact, you're pretty fucking stupid and your ass is the right. You look stupid. Tuck that shirt in. Polish those boots, and Jesus fucking Christ, remake that goddamned bed right now, until I can bounce a quarter off of if it, you lazy, incompetent asshole, you mook. You will not talk. You will not write. You will not. You will, however, shut up.

Yes, there are some stupid out there who also run to conspiracy theories--there are a variety of reasons for this, but the main one is cowardice and conformist tendencies. But men are far stupider in this culture and make up the vast majority of conspiracy kooks, just as men commit around 90% of all rapes in the US.

The fact that this book exists is enough--take your consumer pea-brains and fuck yourselves about sales figures. If that was the case, the Velvet Underground wouldn't have been so influential, they sold jack and shit for ages, but changed music forever. This book contains that kind of archetypal power. I believe it is the truth of the case and its place in the firmament of American history. This is a account. There are no rules to a historical account, regardless of what anyone might say. When you're part of a historical event, it's as personal as it gets. I know for a fact that I've already left my mark. I'm very satisfied, and expect to gain more satisfaction, the kind you're thinking, the kind that inspired duels. I'm an ant, but at least a minor historical player. Are you? Then go do something of value for society and the common good, put your ass on the line, or shut the fuck up, your comments are unimportant and empty, like you.

I refer anyone who I detect with a right-wing anti-government agenda to the above text. I'll shut you down right away, and you'll either be booted, or the interview will end, non-negotiable, it will be over.

I don't kiss people's asses to curry favor, to get something, as so many creeps in this settler state do. This doesn't make me morally superior, it makes me functional amongst the dysfunctional mass of unwanted children. Small wonder they hate abortion. Your god won't save. Save yourself, change. Don't change? Then you will die by your own hand, the law of the jungle, and how nations and empires crumble, like flesh. You are not gods, you are risen apes, we are, but evolution also has a spiritual dimension, and you're failing the audition miserably. Give up, come out with your hands up, it's over, you lost, long ago. The Shibboleths and Priests you've placed on a pedestal will die, and like you, will only be remembered in their infamy, their lack, and the fact that they were the wretchedness of the human race, the murderers of humanity, the darkness enveloping this world. You are nothing, you never were, and Pluto is your god, so small wonder that you long for death and why you sow it, why you worship war criminals and ignore what's going on around you. There's nothing lower than this.

Truth comes to collect one day, and that day is coming  very, very soon. Better dig in those pockets--but they're empty thanks to your lies and your love of them. You are nothing, and never were. That's punishment enough, but in the meantime, you still need to be subdued by the rest of us. Now, nature has come to collect, and more lies will fall away, and the truth, crushed to earth, will rise again, like resurrection day. Jeane will haunt you bastards for the rest of your natural lives. It doesn't matter what some jaded asshole like you thinks, that because you "have no conscience," it won't ever touch you. Even Ted Bundy was haunted by some of the women he murdered and was unable to face the fact that he was made a monster by his abusive grandfather. The architecture of the human mind will come for you. If it comes right at the end, so be it, even better. You cannot escape a sun that never sets.You're not fooling anyone with your pathetic, sarcastic laughter either, that's theater. You're scared because you know you're busted and that I can see right through you, into to you, your empty, black heart.

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