"Davey Zimmerman #274" <Chadweasel274@zoho.com> wrote in news:XnsAFABC0980759BReallyNotChad@88.198.57.247:
Damn you, Desmond. Damn you all to hell. Plus John claims he broke a
disk drive and it had all his archives.
So he broke a hard drive...
Venmo him now.
John is about to get streeted.
Western Union him now.
“Yeah.
I think this isn't going to work and I'm f**ked. I have a couple of
days left in this room, no money, no food, and no hope. I'm
officially paid up through morning and have just enough cash on hand
for one more day, and then that's it, I'm done and gone and that's
the end of JH. I've got six slices of baloney and two of bread."
Not even a can of Beefaroni. You heartless bastards need to donate
like never before. How dare you expect him to support himself on the
lack of content? If I may be so bold as to suggest some marketing
help, I'd say "Baloney-roni" doesn't quite have the ring to it that
gets the suckers sending money.
"Guess "everyone" was right. I should've just sold out, kept doing
drugs, and done the people around me the favor of checking out when I
realized twenty-some-odd years ago that I was a broken piece of
garbage, nobody much gives a damn what I think, and it's beyond
arrogant of me to think they should. "
Here comes the self-pity mode!
"I always told myself I kept going for my kid, but the truth is she'd
have been way better off if I'd gone out in a tragic accident before
she was old enough to remember me."
Dragging the kid into it is pretty desperate. PayPal him now.
"Now I'm being threatened with extortion (again) by an old friend who
I trusted and tried to help (again) even though I knew better and
shouldn't have been involved at all (again) but I'm a sucker (again).
Because clearly my life is going so well that I've got money to give
away and threatening me is the way to make that happen."
John "tried to help" someone? That clearly wasn't Beth Aultman he's
talking about.
"Dumb thing is, it's no threat. I don't want to ruin anyone's
breakfast but I've been candid about my sexual history here before
and there's no need to rehash it. It's certainly not always
something I'm proud of or happy about, and I was approaching forty
before I even really started understanding just how deeply some
things that happened very early in my life (not trying to be evasive,
just polite; I've gone into detail previously) shaped me as a person,
including as a sexual and romantic person."
Why would someone try to blackmail a pauper? Can there be someone
dumber than John? Even junkies aren't that stupid, but then again it
is Michigan so I'm out of my depth.
"And by "shaped" I mean "broke." I am, to put it in technical terms,
pretty f'ked up. I didn't know how f'ked up until I started getting
toward forty and realizing that moment when I suddenly got interested
in women my own age wasn't gonna happen, even after doing years of
work on the rest of the reasons I needed to fix before I bothered
even trying to be in a relationship again. I'm likely going to be
single for the rest of my life, and I've learned to be okay with
that; it certainly beats the alternatives, nearly all of which are
harmful."
Hoo-boy. This sounds like someone is confessing to some sordid shit.
...right before confessing that he is not and never has been attracted
to women his own age...
"I'm sure the world will be fine without my continued "help," and I'm
equally sure that I'm at the very end of everything. In two days I'm
on the streets with nothing."
A whole lot of folks apparently believe that's exactly how things
should be, and it's really only been the last couple of days that
have made clear just how many of those folks there are, and how many
of them have been standing here acting all buddy-buddy for years
while seething with hate. And maybe they're right. Either way, in
two days I'm in a parking lot with a bunch of boxes.
If that's how it plays out I don't plan to see what day four has in
store. I might anyway, but I don't plan it it. I don't even see how
I'd make it that far if I wanted to."
Damn you, Google Pay him yesterday, you bastards!
"Sorry, but what's the point? How much more of this do y'all need to
see? I'm broken beyond repair, clearly nothing I do has any serious
impact because all anyone seems to see is when I need money, I'm not
employable, and apparently there's this long trail of broken bodies
lying in my wake...what's the point? Seriously.
I've always believed in being as real as it gets, that the constant
focus on window dressing and surface matters was a fatal flaw in our
thinking. It seems pretty likely that I've set myself up for
"friends" and self-appointed (they all are) enemies alike to use as a
non-stop punching bag until I just give up.
These people HATE me. You won't believe it but I'm telling you there
are people reading this with glee, they glory in my misery and
despair and hopelessness and defeat, and the sad fact is they might
have the right of it. Maybe I am that bad. Maybe the truth is I'm
just sad clown, wrong about everything, and I've blown my life away
trying to save a world that didn't even need it and accomplishing
nothing more than making a damned fool of myself for the
entertainment of psychopaths.
I want to keep going. I want to work and help and fix and show
because I can see.
But how, man? And who the hell am I to think I've got anything to
say in the first place, ya know? Maybe what I see is just
self-serving delusions and stupid lies and self-pity and excuses to
not get a real job.
Maybe I'm just a gigantic coward and all of this is my way of
destroying myself because I'm exhausted and just can't with anything
anymore."
Cowardly? Delusional? Stupid?
That pretty much sums up John in his last appearance in RSPW.
"If it's not the rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses it's the
Desmonds and OD's and if it's not them it's my family deciding I'm
not worth a damn and if it's not them it's people I tried my
damnedest to do my best for, getting resentful and threatening to
"expose" me when I tell them that I'm sorry but I'm not really in a
position to give them $400 to help them keep their place when I've
already lost my own AND I'd previously let them live with me for free
but they didn't want to stick around because I wouldn't put up with
their using opiates in my house."
111 Words and one fucking period! No doubt that's John writing this.
Who didn't John trash? "rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses"?
I think he might have even trashed Chadweasel!
Ah! Fellow junkies are blackmailing John. Bad choices give you bad
options, grasshopper.
"Oh, and supposedly there's a whole group of people involved, again.
Every person I've ever shaken hands with is apparently on their own
social network where the topic of conversation is always what a prick
I am and how I deserve to die."
How come I never get invited? I tried searching on "John Henry's
Bridge Burners" and nary a hit.
"Every time I turn around it's another knife. And that's before I've
even started thinking about the news today, oh boy. How many
different ways does the universe have to kick me in the head before I
figure out that My Kind Is Not Welcome Here?
I'm tired, man. I've BEEN tired.
It's all well and good to have reasons to live, but they don't do a
whole lot if you don't have the means or the will.
I definitely don't have the first, and frankly I'm on my last drop of
the second. "
It's the Evil Desmond Conspiracy keeping John down! Fedex him
repeatedly before he's evicted!
"So if someone out there's got a few good reasons to keep bothering
when I feel so broken and useless and have ended up accomplishing
exactly the opposite of everything I ever wanted to, including
helping the people I love, I'd sure love to hear from you if you've
bothered reading this far.
Show me some beauty, please. I've given up on money or not being
homeless in a couple of days or trying to change the world or help or
save or any of that. I just would really like to have some beauty,
you know? Just something to give me back that feeling that my failed
and useless life ever meant anything, just one more time, a song
before I go to whom it may concern. Cat pictures. Sunsets.
Something good and beautiful and kind that reminds me there really
are good people out there and not everyone is just out for themselves
at whatever cost.
Just a little bit of good.
Please?
Love y'all.
(It'd be cool if someone would be willing to come get my stuff and
store it until my daughter can get to it and go through and get what
she wants/needs out of it. It might be a minute; along with not
being able to help myself, I haven't been much good to her either.
Sorry hon. I meant to do better. I guess I just didn't know how.)
(PS: Dear Ed - the joke's on us, pal. Their will doesn't grow
tired.)”
The joke has always been on you, John. Even the marks have run out of
money.
ProTip: Jails are heated and they feed you too. Ask Chadweasel!
...resulting in a neat solution: give the drive to the FBI. All
problems solved!
Damn you, Desmond. Damn you all to hell. Plus John claims he broke a
disk drive and it had all his archives.
Venmo him now.
John is about to get streeted.
Western Union him now.
“Yeah.
I think this isn't going to work and I'm f**ked. I have a couple of
days left in this room, no money, no food, and no hope. I'm officially
paid up through morning and have just enough cash on hand for one more
day, and then that's it, I'm done and gone and that's the end of JH.
I've got six slices of baloney and two of bread."
Not even a can of Beefaroni. You heartless bastards need to donate like
never before. How dare you expect him to support himself on the lack of content? If I may be so bold as to suggest some marketing help, I'd say "Baloney-roni" doesn't quite have the ring to it that gets the suckers sending money.
"Guess "everyone" was right. I should've just sold out, kept doing
drugs, and done the people around me the favor of checking out when I realized twenty-some-odd years ago that I was a broken piece of garbage, nobody much gives a damn what I think, and it's beyond arrogant of me to think they should. "
Here comes the self-pity mode!
"I always told myself I kept going for my kid, but the truth is she'd
have been way better off if I'd gone out in a tragic accident before she
was old enough to remember me."
Dragging the kid into it is pretty desperate. PayPal him now.
"Now I'm being threatened with extortion (again) by an old friend who I trusted and tried to help (again) even though I knew better and
shouldn't have been involved at all (again) but I'm a sucker (again).
Because clearly my life is going so well that I've got money to give
away and threatening me is the way to make that happen."
John "tried to help" someone? That clearly wasn't Beth Aultman he's
talking about.
"Dumb thing is, it's no threat. I don't want to ruin anyone's breakfast
but I've been candid about my sexual history here before and there's no
need to rehash it. It's certainly not always something I'm proud of or
happy about, and I was approaching forty before I even really started understanding just how deeply some things that happened very early in my
life (not trying to be evasive, just polite; I've gone into detail previously) shaped me as a person, including as a sexual and romantic person."
Why would someone try to blackmail a pauper? Can there be someone dumber
than John? Even junkies aren't that stupid, but then again it is
Michigan so I'm out of my depth.
"And by "shaped" I mean "broke." I am, to put it in technical terms,
pretty f'ked up. I didn't know how f'ked up until I started getting
toward forty and realizing that moment when I suddenly got interested in women my own age wasn't gonna happen, even after doing years of work on
the rest of the reasons I needed to fix before I bothered even trying to
be in a relationship again. I'm likely going to be single for the rest
of my life, and I've learned to be okay with that; it certainly beats
the alternatives, nearly all of which are harmful."
Hoo-boy. This sounds like someone is confessing to some sordid shit.
"I'm sure the world will be fine without my continued "help," and I'm
equally sure that I'm at the very end of everything. In two days I'm on
the streets with nothing."
A whole lot of folks apparently believe that's exactly how things should
be, and it's really only been the last couple of days that have made
clear just how many of those folks there are, and how many of them have
been standing here acting all buddy-buddy for years while seething with
hate. And maybe they're right. Either way, in two days I'm in a parking
lot with a bunch of boxes.
If that's how it plays out I don't plan to see what day four has in
store. I might anyway, but I don't plan it it. I don't even see how
I'd make it that far if I wanted to."
Damn you, Google Pay him yesterday, you bastards!
"Sorry, but what's the point? How much more of this do y'all need to
see? I'm broken beyond repair, clearly nothing I do has any serious
impact because all anyone seems to see is when I need money, I'm not employable, and apparently there's this long trail of broken bodies
lying in my wake...what's the point? Seriously.
I've always believed in being as real as it gets, that the constant
focus on window dressing and surface matters was a fatal flaw in our thinking. It seems pretty likely that I've set myself up for "friends"
and self-appointed (they all are) enemies alike to use as a non-stop
punching bag until I just give up.
These people HATE me. You won't believe it but I'm telling you there
are people reading this with glee, they glory in my misery and despair
and hopelessness and defeat, and the sad fact is they might have the
right of it. Maybe I am that bad. Maybe the truth is I'm just sad
clown, wrong about everything, and I've blown my life away trying to
save a world that didn't even need it and accomplishing nothing more
than making a damned fool of myself for the entertainment of
psychopaths.
I want to keep going. I want to work and help and fix and show because
I can see.
But how, man? And who the hell am I to think I've got anything to say
in the first place, ya know? Maybe what I see is just self-serving
delusions and stupid lies and self-pity and excuses to not get a real
job.
Maybe I'm just a gigantic coward and all of this is my way of destroying myself because I'm exhausted and just can't with anything anymore."
Cowardly? Delusional? Stupid?
That pretty much sums up John in his last appearance in RSPW.
"If it's not the rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses it's the
Desmonds and OD's and if it's not them it's my family deciding I'm not
worth a damn and if it's not them it's people I tried my damnedest to do
my best for, getting resentful and threatening to "expose" me when I
tell them that I'm sorry but I'm not really in a position to give them
$400 to help them keep their place when I've already lost my own AND I'd previously let them live with me for free but they didn't want to stick around because I wouldn't put up with their using opiates in my house."
111 Words and one fucking period! No doubt that's John writing this. Who didn't John trash? "rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses"? I think
he might have even trashed Chadweasel!
Ah! Fellow junkies are blackmailing John. Bad choices give you bad
options, grasshopper.
"Oh, and supposedly there's a whole group of people involved, again.
Every person I've ever shaken hands with is apparently on their own
social network where the topic of conversation is always what a prick I
am and how I deserve to die."
How come I never get invited? I tried searching on "John Henry's Bridge Burners" and nary a hit.
"Every time I turn around it's another knife. And that's before I've
even started thinking about the news today, oh boy. How many different
ways does the universe have to kick me in the head before I figure out
that My Kind Is Not Welcome Here?
I'm tired, man. I've BEEN tired.
It's all well and good to have reasons to live, but they don't do a
whole lot if you don't have the means or the will.
I definitely don't have the first, and frankly I'm on my last drop of
the second. "
It's the Evil Desmond Conspiracy keeping John down! Fedex him repeatedly before he's evicted!
"So if someone out there's got a few good reasons to keep bothering when
I feel so broken and useless and have ended up accomplishing exactly the opposite of everything I ever wanted to, including helping the people I
love, I'd sure love to hear from you if you've bothered reading this
far.
Show me some beauty, please. I've given up on money or not being
homeless in a couple of days or trying to change the world or help or
save or any of that. I just would really like to have some beauty, you
know? Just something to give me back that feeling that my failed and
useless life ever meant anything, just one more time, a song before I go
to whom it may concern. Cat pictures. Sunsets. Something good and beautiful and kind that reminds me there really are good people out
there and not everyone is just out for themselves at whatever cost.
Just a little bit of good.
Please?
Love y'all.
(It'd be cool if someone would be willing to come get my stuff and store
it until my daughter can get to it and go through and get what she wants/needs out of it. It might be a minute; along with not being able
to help myself, I haven't been much good to her either. Sorry hon. I
meant to do better. I guess I just didn't know how.)
(PS: Dear Ed - the joke's on us, pal. Their will doesn't grow tired.)”
The joke has always been on you, John. Even the marks have run out of
money.
ProTip: Jails are heated and they feed you too. Ask Chadweasel!
A dead horse <(b)eat@me.> wrote in
news:tsh8v9$3g2ou$1@paganini.bofh.team:
"Davey Zimmerman #274" <Chadweasel274@zoho.com> wrote in
news:XnsAFABC0980759BReallyNotChad@88.198.57.247:
Damn you, Desmond. Damn you all to hell. Plus John claims he broke a
disk drive and it had all his archives.
So he broke a hard drive...
The significance of that is all his claimed evidence for the neverending lawsuits that will enable him to make the world a Utopia and repay his ex-landlord now has another excuse to never actually being provided.
Venmo him now.
John is about to get streeted.
Western Union him now.
“Yeah.
I think this isn't going to work and I'm f**ked. I have a couple of
days left in this room, no money, no food, and no hope. I'm
officially paid up through morning and have just enough cash on hand
for one more day, and then that's it, I'm done and gone and that's
the end of JH. I've got six slices of baloney and two of bread."
Not even a can of Beefaroni. You heartless bastards need to donate
like never before. How dare you expect him to support himself on the
lack of content? If I may be so bold as to suggest some marketing
help, I'd say "Baloney-roni" doesn't quite have the ring to it that
gets the suckers sending money.
"Guess "everyone" was right. I should've just sold out, kept doing
drugs, and done the people around me the favor of checking out when I
realized twenty-some-odd years ago that I was a broken piece of
garbage, nobody much gives a damn what I think, and it's beyond
arrogant of me to think they should. "
Here comes the self-pity mode!
"I always told myself I kept going for my kid, but the truth is she'd
have been way better off if I'd gone out in a tragic accident before
she was old enough to remember me."
Dragging the kid into it is pretty desperate. PayPal him now.
"Now I'm being threatened with extortion (again) by an old friend who
I trusted and tried to help (again) even though I knew better and
shouldn't have been involved at all (again) but I'm a sucker (again).
Because clearly my life is going so well that I've got money to give
away and threatening me is the way to make that happen."
John "tried to help" someone? That clearly wasn't Beth Aultman he's
talking about.
"Dumb thing is, it's no threat. I don't want to ruin anyone's
breakfast but I've been candid about my sexual history here before
and there's no need to rehash it. It's certainly not always
something I'm proud of or happy about, and I was approaching forty
before I even really started understanding just how deeply some
things that happened very early in my life (not trying to be evasive,
just polite; I've gone into detail previously) shaped me as a person,
including as a sexual and romantic person."
Why would someone try to blackmail a pauper? Can there be someone
dumber than John? Even junkies aren't that stupid, but then again it
is Michigan so I'm out of my depth.
"And by "shaped" I mean "broke." I am, to put it in technical terms,
pretty f'ked up. I didn't know how f'ked up until I started getting
toward forty and realizing that moment when I suddenly got interested
in women my own age wasn't gonna happen, even after doing years of
work on the rest of the reasons I needed to fix before I bothered
even trying to be in a relationship again. I'm likely going to be
single for the rest of my life, and I've learned to be okay with
that; it certainly beats the alternatives, nearly all of which are
harmful."
Hoo-boy. This sounds like someone is confessing to some sordid shit.
...right before confessing that he is not and never has been attracted
to women his own age...
Yeah, you caught that too. There was some 25YO lesbian junkie in his
past he housed but that sounds like who is possibly blackmailing him,
not a victim of whatever nasty shit he's done.
"I'm sure the world will be fine without my continued "help," and I'm
equally sure that I'm at the very end of everything. In two days I'm
on the streets with nothing."
A whole lot of folks apparently believe that's exactly how things
should be, and it's really only been the last couple of days that
have made clear just how many of those folks there are, and how many
of them have been standing here acting all buddy-buddy for years
while seething with hate. And maybe they're right. Either way, in
two days I'm in a parking lot with a bunch of boxes.
If that's how it plays out I don't plan to see what day four has in
store. I might anyway, but I don't plan it it. I don't even see how
I'd make it that far if I wanted to."
Damn you, Google Pay him yesterday, you bastards!
"Sorry, but what's the point? How much more of this do y'all need to
see? I'm broken beyond repair, clearly nothing I do has any serious
impact because all anyone seems to see is when I need money, I'm not
employable, and apparently there's this long trail of broken bodies
lying in my wake...what's the point? Seriously.
I've always believed in being as real as it gets, that the constant
focus on window dressing and surface matters was a fatal flaw in our
thinking. It seems pretty likely that I've set myself up for
"friends" and self-appointed (they all are) enemies alike to use as a
non-stop punching bag until I just give up.
These people HATE me. You won't believe it but I'm telling you there
are people reading this with glee, they glory in my misery and
despair and hopelessness and defeat, and the sad fact is they might
have the right of it. Maybe I am that bad. Maybe the truth is I'm
just sad clown, wrong about everything, and I've blown my life away
trying to save a world that didn't even need it and accomplishing
nothing more than making a damned fool of myself for the
entertainment of psychopaths.
I want to keep going. I want to work and help and fix and show
because I can see.
But how, man? And who the hell am I to think I've got anything to
say in the first place, ya know? Maybe what I see is just
self-serving delusions and stupid lies and self-pity and excuses to
not get a real job.
Maybe I'm just a gigantic coward and all of this is my way of
destroying myself because I'm exhausted and just can't with anything
anymore."
Cowardly? Delusional? Stupid?
That pretty much sums up John in his last appearance in RSPW.
"If it's not the rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses it's the
Desmonds and OD's and if it's not them it's my family deciding I'm
not worth a damn and if it's not them it's people I tried my
damnedest to do my best for, getting resentful and threatening to
"expose" me when I tell them that I'm sorry but I'm not really in a
position to give them $400 to help them keep their place when I've
already lost my own AND I'd previously let them live with me for free
but they didn't want to stick around because I wouldn't put up with
their using opiates in my house."
111 Words and one fucking period! No doubt that's John writing this.
Who didn't John trash? "rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses"?
I think he might have even trashed Chadweasel!
Ah! Fellow junkies are blackmailing John. Bad choices give you bad
options, grasshopper.
"Oh, and supposedly there's a whole group of people involved, again.
Every person I've ever shaken hands with is apparently on their own
social network where the topic of conversation is always what a prick
I am and how I deserve to die."
How come I never get invited? I tried searching on "John Henry's
Bridge Burners" and nary a hit.
"Every time I turn around it's another knife. And that's before I've
even started thinking about the news today, oh boy. How many
different ways does the universe have to kick me in the head before I
figure out that My Kind Is Not Welcome Here?
I'm tired, man. I've BEEN tired.
It's all well and good to have reasons to live, but they don't do a
whole lot if you don't have the means or the will.
I definitely don't have the first, and frankly I'm on my last drop of
the second. "
It's the Evil Desmond Conspiracy keeping John down! Fedex him
repeatedly before he's evicted!
"So if someone out there's got a few good reasons to keep bothering
when I feel so broken and useless and have ended up accomplishing
exactly the opposite of everything I ever wanted to, including
helping the people I love, I'd sure love to hear from you if you've
bothered reading this far.
Show me some beauty, please. I've given up on money or not being
homeless in a couple of days or trying to change the world or help or
save or any of that. I just would really like to have some beauty,
you know? Just something to give me back that feeling that my failed
and useless life ever meant anything, just one more time, a song
before I go to whom it may concern. Cat pictures. Sunsets.
Something good and beautiful and kind that reminds me there really
are good people out there and not everyone is just out for themselves
at whatever cost.
Just a little bit of good.
Please?
Love y'all.
(It'd be cool if someone would be willing to come get my stuff and
store it until my daughter can get to it and go through and get what
she wants/needs out of it. It might be a minute; along with not
being able to help myself, I haven't been much good to her either.
Sorry hon. I meant to do better. I guess I just didn't know how.)
(PS: Dear Ed - the joke's on us, pal. Their will doesn't grow
tired.)”
The joke has always been on you, John. Even the marks have run out of
money.
ProTip: Jails are heated and they feed you too. Ask Chadweasel!
...resulting in a neat solution: give the drive to the FBI. All
problems solved!
John needs to do some heinous shit in front of a police station. A
public defender will probably fuck it up to the point where he'll get 20 years.
I have solutions too.
"Davey Zimmerman #274" <Chadweasel274@zoho.com> wrote in news:XnsAFABCB322CEEFReallyNotChad@88.198.57.247:
A dead horse <(b)eat@me.> wrote in
news:tsh8v9$3g2ou$1@paganini.bofh.team:
"Davey Zimmerman #274" <Chadweasel274@zoho.com> wrote in
news:XnsAFABC0980759BReallyNotChad@88.198.57.247:
Damn you, Desmond. Damn you all to hell. Plus John claims he broke
a disk drive and it had all his archives.
So he broke a hard drive...
The significance of that is all his claimed evidence for the
neverending lawsuits that will enable him to make the world a Utopia
and repay his ex-landlord now has another excuse to never actually
being provided.
Venmo him now.
John is about to get streeted.
Western Union him now.
“Yeah.
I think this isn't going to work and I'm f**ked. I have a couple
of days left in this room, no money, no food, and no hope. I'm
officially paid up through morning and have just enough cash on
hand for one more day, and then that's it, I'm done and gone and
that's the end of JH. I've got six slices of baloney and two of
bread."
Not even a can of Beefaroni. You heartless bastards need to donate
like never before. How dare you expect him to support himself on
the lack of content? If I may be so bold as to suggest some
marketing help, I'd say "Baloney-roni" doesn't quite have the ring
to it that gets the suckers sending money.
"Guess "everyone" was right. I should've just sold out, kept doing
drugs, and done the people around me the favor of checking out when
I realized twenty-some-odd years ago that I was a broken piece of
garbage, nobody much gives a damn what I think, and it's beyond
arrogant of me to think they should. "
Here comes the self-pity mode!
"I always told myself I kept going for my kid, but the truth is
she'd have been way better off if I'd gone out in a tragic accident
before she was old enough to remember me."
Dragging the kid into it is pretty desperate. PayPal him now.
"Now I'm being threatened with extortion (again) by an old friend
who I trusted and tried to help (again) even though I knew better
and shouldn't have been involved at all (again) but I'm a sucker
(again). Because clearly my life is going so well that I've got
money to give away and threatening me is the way to make that
happen."
John "tried to help" someone? That clearly wasn't Beth Aultman he's
talking about.
"Dumb thing is, it's no threat. I don't want to ruin anyone's
breakfast but I've been candid about my sexual history here before
and there's no need to rehash it. It's certainly not always
something I'm proud of or happy about, and I was approaching forty
before I even really started understanding just how deeply some
things that happened very early in my life (not trying to be
evasive, just polite; I've gone into detail previously) shaped me
as a person, including as a sexual and romantic person."
Why would someone try to blackmail a pauper? Can there be someone
dumber than John? Even junkies aren't that stupid, but then again
it is Michigan so I'm out of my depth.
"And by "shaped" I mean "broke." I am, to put it in technical
terms, pretty f'ked up. I didn't know how f'ked up until I started
getting toward forty and realizing that moment when I suddenly got
interested in women my own age wasn't gonna happen, even after
doing years of work on the rest of the reasons I needed to fix
before I bothered even trying to be in a relationship again. I'm
likely going to be single for the rest of my life, and I've learned
to be okay with that; it certainly beats the alternatives, nearly
all of which are harmful."
Hoo-boy. This sounds like someone is confessing to some sordid
shit.
...right before confessing that he is not and never has been
attracted to women his own age...
Yeah, you caught that too. There was some 25YO lesbian junkie in his
past he housed but that sounds like who is possibly blackmailing him,
not a victim of whatever nasty shit he's done.
John posted this a long time back:
"John Henry
HI GUYS I RECENTLY REALIZED THAT ONE OF THE REASONS I'M SO FUCKED UP
IS THAT I WAS SEXUALLY ABUSED BY A MUCH OLDER BUT STILL ADOLESCENT
FEMALE RELATIVE NOT TO MENTION SEVERAL OF HER GIRLFRIENDS STARTING
WHEN I WAS IN DIAPERS AND THEN WHEN WE GOT CAUGHT NOBODY BOTHERED
TELLING ME WHAT WAS WRONG SO ALL I KNEW WAS MY FAVORITE PERSON DIDN'T
LOVE ME ANYMORE AND THAT FUCKED ME UP PRETTY GOOD BEFORE MY
HALF-SISTER THE HEROIN JUNKIE BEAT HER OWN FOUR YEAR OLD DAUGHTER TO
DEATH WHEN I WAS TWELVE AND GEE IT SURE WOULD BE NEAT TO TELL Y'ALL
THAT I JUST RECENTLY REALIZED THE REASON I WAS THINKING ABOUT KILLING
MYSELF WHEN I WAS FOUR YEARS OLD WAS BECAUSE MY PARENTS TOOK MY FRIEND
AWAY AND I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND WHY AND ISN'T IT WEIRD WHEN YOU TAKE A
GIFTED CHILD AND SEXUALLY ABUSE HIM AND HAVE HIS HALF-SISTER KILL HER
OWN KID AND DON'T GIVE THE FIRST SHIT WHAT HE'S GOT TO SAY ABOUT ALL
THAT HE GROWS UP WITH AN ATTITUDE AND A BIG FUCKIN MOUTH AND A
SLIGHTLY CREEPY HERO COMPLEX? I'D SURE LIKE TO TALK TO ALL OF YOU
ABOUT THAT AND A LOT MORE BUT FACEBOOK SAYS I'M NOT FIT FOR HUMAN
CONSUMPTION AND THEREFORE I'M NOT ALLOWED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS,
SORRY. Reply · 1d"
So he feels that his sexual/romantic preferences were shaped by this
abusive encounter with an adolescent female relative and he does not
find women his own age appealing. He's mentioned previously that he
was only attracted to younger women, but what exactly in the fuck is
he saying?
"I'm likely going to be single for the rest of my life, and I've
learned to be okay with that; it certainly beats the alternatives,
nearly all of which are harmful."
Hm... hhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...
You're not crazy, you're just a lazy, self-centred arsehole...
"I'm sure the world will be fine without my continued "help," and
I'm equally sure that I'm at the very end of everything. In two
days I'm on the streets with nothing."
A whole lot of folks apparently believe that's exactly how things
should be, and it's really only been the last couple of days that
have made clear just how many of those folks there are, and how
many of them have been standing here acting all buddy-buddy for
years while seething with hate. And maybe they're right. Either
way, in two days I'm in a parking lot with a bunch of boxes.
If that's how it plays out I don't plan to see what day four has in
store. I might anyway, but I don't plan it it. I don't even see
how I'd make it that far if I wanted to."
Damn you, Google Pay him yesterday, you bastards!
"Sorry, but what's the point? How much more of this do y'all need
to see? I'm broken beyond repair, clearly nothing I do has any
serious impact because all anyone seems to see is when I need
money, I'm not employable, and apparently there's this long trail
of broken bodies lying in my wake...what's the point? Seriously.
I've always believed in being as real as it gets, that the constant
focus on window dressing and surface matters was a fatal flaw in
our thinking. It seems pretty likely that I've set myself up for
"friends" and self-appointed (they all are) enemies alike to use as
a non-stop punching bag until I just give up.
These people HATE me. You won't believe it but I'm telling you
there are people reading this with glee, they glory in my misery
and despair and hopelessness and defeat, and the sad fact is they
might have the right of it. Maybe I am that bad. Maybe the truth
is I'm just sad clown, wrong about everything, and I've blown my
life away trying to save a world that didn't even need it and
accomplishing nothing more than making a damned fool of myself for
the entertainment of psychopaths.
I want to keep going. I want to work and help and fix and show
because I can see.
But how, man? And who the hell am I to think I've got anything to
say in the first place, ya know? Maybe what I see is just
self-serving delusions and stupid lies and self-pity and excuses to
not get a real job.
Maybe I'm just a gigantic coward and all of this is my way of
destroying myself because I'm exhausted and just can't with
anything anymore."
Cowardly? Delusional? Stupid?
That pretty much sums up John in his last appearance in RSPW.
"If it's not the rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses it's
the Desmonds and OD's and if it's not them it's my family deciding
I'm not worth a damn and if it's not them it's people I tried my
damnedest to do my best for, getting resentful and threatening to
"expose" me when I tell them that I'm sorry but I'm not really in a
position to give them $400 to help them keep their place when I've
already lost my own AND I'd previously let them live with me for
free but they didn't want to stick around because I wouldn't put up
with their using opiates in my house."
111 Words and one fucking period! No doubt that's John writing
this. Who didn't John trash? "rasslin' marks and their ancient
psychoses"? I think he might have even trashed Chadweasel!
Ah! Fellow junkies are blackmailing John. Bad choices give you bad
options, grasshopper.
"Oh, and supposedly there's a whole group of people involved,
again. Every person I've ever shaken hands with is apparently on
their own social network where the topic of conversation is always
what a prick I am and how I deserve to die."
How come I never get invited? I tried searching on "John Henry's
Bridge Burners" and nary a hit.
"Every time I turn around it's another knife. And that's before
I've even started thinking about the news today, oh boy. How many
different ways does the universe have to kick me in the head before
I figure out that My Kind Is Not Welcome Here?
I'm tired, man. I've BEEN tired.
It's all well and good to have reasons to live, but they don't do a
whole lot if you don't have the means or the will.
I definitely don't have the first, and frankly I'm on my last drop
of the second. "
It's the Evil Desmond Conspiracy keeping John down! Fedex him
repeatedly before he's evicted!
"So if someone out there's got a few good reasons to keep bothering
when I feel so broken and useless and have ended up accomplishing
exactly the opposite of everything I ever wanted to, including
helping the people I love, I'd sure love to hear from you if you've
bothered reading this far.
Show me some beauty, please. I've given up on money or not being
homeless in a couple of days or trying to change the world or help
or save or any of that. I just would really like to have some
beauty, you know? Just something to give me back that feeling that
my failed and useless life ever meant anything, just one more time,
a song before I go to whom it may concern. Cat pictures. Sunsets.
Something good and beautiful and kind that reminds me there really
are good people out there and not everyone is just out for
themselves at whatever cost.
Just a little bit of good.
Please?
Love y'all.
(It'd be cool if someone would be willing to come get my stuff and
store it until my daughter can get to it and go through and get
what she wants/needs out of it. It might be a minute; along with
not being able to help myself, I haven't been much good to her
either. Sorry hon. I meant to do better. I guess I just didn't
know how.)
(PS: Dear Ed - the joke's on us, pal. Their will doesn't grow
tired.)”
The joke has always been on you, John. Even the marks have run out
of money.
ProTip: Jails are heated and they feed you too. Ask Chadweasel!
...resulting in a neat solution: give the drive to the FBI. All
problems solved!
John needs to do some heinous shit in front of a police station. A
public defender will probably fuck it up to the point where he'll get
20 years.
I have solutions too.
A dead horse <(b)eat@me.> wrote in
news:tshf4b$3gphp$1@paganini.bofh.team:
"Davey Zimmerman #274" <Chadweasel274@zoho.com> wrote in
news:XnsAFABCB322CEEFReallyNotChad@88.198.57.247:
A dead horse <(b)eat@me.> wrote in
news:tsh8v9$3g2ou$1@paganini.bofh.team:
"Davey Zimmerman #274" <Chadweasel274@zoho.com> wrote in
news:XnsAFABC0980759BReallyNotChad@88.198.57.247:
Damn you, Desmond. Damn you all to hell. Plus John claims he broke
a disk drive and it had all his archives.
So he broke a hard drive...
The significance of that is all his claimed evidence for the
neverending lawsuits that will enable him to make the world a Utopia
and repay his ex-landlord now has another excuse to never actually
being provided.
Venmo him now.
John is about to get streeted.
Western Union him now.
“Yeah.
I think this isn't going to work and I'm f**ked. I have a couple
of days left in this room, no money, no food, and no hope. I'm
officially paid up through morning and have just enough cash on
hand for one more day, and then that's it, I'm done and gone and
that's the end of JH. I've got six slices of baloney and two of
bread."
Not even a can of Beefaroni. You heartless bastards need to donate
like never before. How dare you expect him to support himself on
the lack of content? If I may be so bold as to suggest some
marketing help, I'd say "Baloney-roni" doesn't quite have the ring
to it that gets the suckers sending money.
"Guess "everyone" was right. I should've just sold out, kept doing
drugs, and done the people around me the favor of checking out when
I realized twenty-some-odd years ago that I was a broken piece of
garbage, nobody much gives a damn what I think, and it's beyond
arrogant of me to think they should. "
Here comes the self-pity mode!
"I always told myself I kept going for my kid, but the truth is
she'd have been way better off if I'd gone out in a tragic accident
before she was old enough to remember me."
Dragging the kid into it is pretty desperate. PayPal him now.
"Now I'm being threatened with extortion (again) by an old friend
who I trusted and tried to help (again) even though I knew better
and shouldn't have been involved at all (again) but I'm a sucker
(again). Because clearly my life is going so well that I've got
money to give away and threatening me is the way to make that
happen."
John "tried to help" someone? That clearly wasn't Beth Aultman he's
talking about.
"Dumb thing is, it's no threat. I don't want to ruin anyone's
breakfast but I've been candid about my sexual history here before
and there's no need to rehash it. It's certainly not always
something I'm proud of or happy about, and I was approaching forty
before I even really started understanding just how deeply some
things that happened very early in my life (not trying to be
evasive, just polite; I've gone into detail previously) shaped me
as a person, including as a sexual and romantic person."
Why would someone try to blackmail a pauper? Can there be someone
dumber than John? Even junkies aren't that stupid, but then again
it is Michigan so I'm out of my depth.
"And by "shaped" I mean "broke." I am, to put it in technical
terms, pretty f'ked up. I didn't know how f'ked up until I started
getting toward forty and realizing that moment when I suddenly got
interested in women my own age wasn't gonna happen, even after
doing years of work on the rest of the reasons I needed to fix
before I bothered even trying to be in a relationship again. I'm
likely going to be single for the rest of my life, and I've learned
to be okay with that; it certainly beats the alternatives, nearly
all of which are harmful."
Hoo-boy. This sounds like someone is confessing to some sordid
shit.
...right before confessing that he is not and never has been
attracted to women his own age...
Yeah, you caught that too. There was some 25YO lesbian junkie in his
past he housed but that sounds like who is possibly blackmailing him,
not a victim of whatever nasty shit he's done.
John posted this a long time back:
"John Henry
HI GUYS I RECENTLY REALIZED THAT ONE OF THE REASONS I'M SO FUCKED UP
IS THAT I WAS SEXUALLY ABUSED BY A MUCH OLDER BUT STILL ADOLESCENT
FEMALE RELATIVE NOT TO MENTION SEVERAL OF HER GIRLFRIENDS STARTING
WHEN I WAS IN DIAPERS AND THEN WHEN WE GOT CAUGHT NOBODY BOTHERED
TELLING ME WHAT WAS WRONG SO ALL I KNEW WAS MY FAVORITE PERSON DIDN'T
LOVE ME ANYMORE AND THAT FUCKED ME UP PRETTY GOOD BEFORE MY
HALF-SISTER THE HEROIN JUNKIE BEAT HER OWN FOUR YEAR OLD DAUGHTER TO
DEATH WHEN I WAS TWELVE AND GEE IT SURE WOULD BE NEAT TO TELL Y'ALL
THAT I JUST RECENTLY REALIZED THE REASON I WAS THINKING ABOUT KILLING
MYSELF WHEN I WAS FOUR YEARS OLD WAS BECAUSE MY PARENTS TOOK MY FRIEND
AWAY AND I DIDN'T UNDERSTAND WHY AND ISN'T IT WEIRD WHEN YOU TAKE A
GIFTED CHILD AND SEXUALLY ABUSE HIM AND HAVE HIS HALF-SISTER KILL HER
OWN KID AND DON'T GIVE THE FIRST SHIT WHAT HE'S GOT TO SAY ABOUT ALL
THAT HE GROWS UP WITH AN ATTITUDE AND A BIG FUCKIN MOUTH AND A
SLIGHTLY CREEPY HERO COMPLEX? I'D SURE LIKE TO TALK TO ALL OF YOU
ABOUT THAT AND A LOT MORE BUT FACEBOOK SAYS I'M NOT FIT FOR HUMAN
CONSUMPTION AND THEREFORE I'M NOT ALLOWED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS,
SORRY. Reply · 1d"
So he feels that his sexual/romantic preferences were shaped by this
abusive encounter with an adolescent female relative and he does not
find women his own age appealing. He's mentioned previously that he
was only attracted to younger women, but what exactly in the fuck is
he saying?
"I'm likely going to be single for the rest of my life, and I've
learned to be okay with that; it certainly beats the alternatives,
nearly all of which are harmful."
Hm... hhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...
This is one of my favorite rants:
(Bonus points for counting the lies.)
https://groups.google.com/g/rec.sport.pro-wrestling/c/OOGV_p_8kRA/m/TBvmG mf9BAAJ
"I never did any of this shit. I never called people's jobs, not even
Dink. I never threatened to hurt people's kids. I never stalked anyone
for twenty years. I never jumped into a person's life who has been
trying desperately to ignore me for over a decade to CONTINUALLY fuck
with them, do everything I could to fuck them up and hurt their lives, published terabytes of bullshit content with their name on it so Google
shows nothing but my psychotic fantasies when you search for them.
I flamed a guy on a fucking newsgroup in 1997. 21 years later, that guy
still isn't over it and has conducted a more or less nonstop ongoing
campaign to drive me to absolute poverty and madness. Dozens of calls to
my university with fake complaints. Dozens of calls to my employers over
the years. HUNDREDS of calls to my parents.
If you can't see the fucking difference there, you're a goddamned
psychopath yourself and should be immediately tranquilized and
imprisoned in an appropriate psychiatric facility until you're evaluated
to no longer be a sociopath who can't tell the difference between a
pissant flamewar and an obsessive stalker spending twenty years of his
life just to hurt a guy who pissed him off back when Beavis and Butthead
was still in first-run broadcast.
You're not crazy, you're just a lazy, self-centred arsehole...
Let me lay this out in reality for you, you piece of shit.
In the last four years, I have:
Been gainfully employed or working as a contractor for all but about 7 months.
Spent ten months walking 25 miles a week as part of a 25 hour per week
mass transit/walking commute to work. Any single week's commute during
this period is more genuine work and effort than the entire lifetime's genuine work you and Dink have conducted, combined. I walked the soles
off two pairs of shoes.
Spent two and a half years at that job. Left at the end of January, was
back to work driving by the third week of february. Took about 2,700
rides, often but not always working 10-14 hours a day, 7 days a week.
The only reason I'm not working RIGHT NOW, literally the only reason I
have the fucking time to degrade and humiliate myself by associating
with the likes of you, is the fucking psycho you're defending once again contacted my employer (contractor in this case) with a spurious
complaint, leading to my being in limbo and entirely without any clue
what was happening for about 9 days.
Based on my average per-night book, that ALONE cost me $1300.
Now the DAY BEFORE this happened, I'd loaned my Rainsong WD1000 - worth
about three grand, but no fucking way will I ever sell it, I won it by selling more Rainsong guitars than anyone else in the company over a four-month period, and I'd rather die in the streets than lose it permanently. But anyway, I loaned it to a friend in exchange for an $800
loan to me. I'd paid my rent and other bills up to current, and was on
track to finally be steady on my feet after crawling my way back up from losing my prior job. I was going to have to move when my lease was up
because my income had dropped enough that I could no longer afford where
I was living, but I'd have made it. Tight, but I'd have made it. And
I'd have made - and caught up - my car payments with part of those
earnings.
Things were *perfect.* Or as perfect as they needed to be. Everything
was in line and ready to roll.
And then Dink made his complaint, and it completely fucked me. See if
you can follow a sequence of events without getting confused here,
blockhead:
I was pulled off the road for about 9 days with NO explanation from
Lyft, they wouldn't even answer direct questions via e-mail. Call it
$1300 in lost income, automatic payments that weren't covered hitting my
bank account and running that nearly a thousand dollars into the red ON
TOP of the lost wages, so now we're at 2300 bucks I'm out of pocket on
this bit of fucker. That left me unable to pay rent for November, the
last month on my lease.
It also left me unable to earn money and keep it since everything I
earned went into the black hole of my bank account.
So now - and again, this is STILL the cascading result of the fuckery
you're defending, you mealy mouthed son of a bitch - I gotta beg money
for gas so I can work.
Eventually I was able to get that together - another couple of days
lost, another three hundred or so in missing income - and went back to
work.
When I went back to work, I really had to kick it out, working 14 hours
(the legal max) 7 days a week to try and scramble to replace my losses.
Then I had a blowout (which I would have replaced the prior week if I
hadn't just been fucked out of now $2600 and counting by Dink) and was
off a couple of more days I couldn't afford.
My brother bought me a tire, I went back to work.
THEN I was exhausted one night after work - AGAIN, this is STILL the cascading results of the fuckery you're defending, the fucking sick,
twisted, evil shit that you seem to believe is morally equivalent to one phone conversation twenty years ago, you ethically bankrupt intellectual vacuum - drove to the local corner store for a quick "meal," and while driving back hit a small patch of ice and curbed the car at 15mph,
bending my rim and nuking one of my new tires.
So NOW I've got to find a rim and buy that, with no money, so I do THAT
- ANOTHER couple of days lost, STILL cascading results of Dink's
fuckery, ANOTHER $300 in lost income, now we're up to three grand,
meanwhile my bank account is still accruing late fees and overdraft
charges until it's eventually shut down because I can't manage to avoid
bad luck long enough to recover from this shit, and my lease is up.
All things I'd have never had to worry about if Dink hadn't made that
phone call, which he did regardless of how much bullshit he tries to lay
on you, I've already got the complaint record from Lyft. He filed it
with a borrowed phone, but really who the fuck else with a 770 area code
and an ATL billing address is going to stalk my facebook page looking
for reasons to complain to my employer? Of all the people I've known in Georgia, the only one I've had any sort of interaction with since I left
the wrestling business is Dink and nobody else would have the slightest reason to even try. So fuck off with that bullshit too.
And then a little bad luck. Now keep in mind through all of this, I'm
ALSO nursing a beautiful and dear friend, a 25 year old lesbian who I
was definitely not fucking or trying to and that's a huge part of the
whole reason I was the one doing this, detox and recover from a rather
nasty relapse into heroin addiction that had her just about dead when I
met her. So aside from all Dink's drama, I'm also going through all THAT shit, which is emotionally exhausting all by itself. For the record, we
got her clean and straight, she gained back weight and got healthy, got reconciled with her family, and moved with them to another state a few
weeks ago. She's easily one of the most wonderful and awesome souls it's
ever been my pleasure to encounter, and I'll never stop being proud that
I was the difference she needed in her life to get it together.
That's right, you fucks. Not only am I outside every other box you pea- brained pissants lock yourselves in, I also managed the impossible task
of inducing a junkie to get clean. Put her up in my house, fed her when
I didn't even have food of my own, and gave her unconditional platonic
love without limit - the kind of love she should have had from others
far earlier in life. No matter what happens, I'm here for you. You
relapse, it's okay, I love you, we'll start again tomorrow. I'll be
right here fighting right next to you every step of the way,
unconditionally.
And I was, no matter what happened, including a few bits of drama and a
bit of off and on in the first few days, as so often happens with
addicts.
"I've been here before. I know the way out. Follow me." See, cuntflap,
that's what a decent human being with a conscience does when they see
someone suffering. They fucking help. They don't rejoice in it becasue
the person suffering said something mean to them in the 90's.
So I did THAT shit, all while this was going on. She's alive, clean,
happy, stable, and on her way to becoming the best she can be, and I did
it. For free. With no expectation of any sort of reward other than
knowing I helped a good person who made a bad mistake early in life
recover from it and reclaim her humanity.
You go ahead and keep on stepping to me, fuckhead. On my worst day, I'm
a better man and a better human being than anyone you've ever met. Sure,
I'm not normal and I'm verbose as shit and sometimes it takes some
effort to follow me because I think quite a bit differently - quite a
bit faster - than average.
You troll cunts in this group never, ever could get it through your
heads that just because you're a crop of lying shitsacks who will say
and do anything to gratify your anemic egos with imaginary "victories"
over strangers on the internet, doesn't mean everyone else is. Some of
us actually try to be decent fucking human beings, not to suggest that
your sort would have the slightest idea how to approach such a thing.
Anyway, I digress. So we've got to...oh, yeah. So now let's add in a
bit of bad luck. The wheel thing screwed me a bit, and really at this
point it was about to the point of being a lost cause but I was still
trying, still busting ass, still driving my ass off. But thanks to
Dink's interference and an assist from some other asshats who have
nothing to do with this shitfest but would fit right in with the likes
of you and your fucking inbred boyfriend in Georgia, I couldn't make
enough and and wasn't able to get my rent paid on time.
So instead of finishing out the last month of my lease, I got evicted literally ten days before I would have moved anyway if not for all this bullshit that fucked me up and peeled about about 15% of my already dramatically reduced annual income this year.
THEN my landlord decides to illegally throw all the shit in my apartment
out THE VERY FUCKING DAY I paid the bill and gained access to the
apartment so I could move out, a day BEFORE they were legally allowed to
do so. All of which will make for another nice civil suit, but that
doesn't get back all my analog photos from my years in the wrestling business, all my CD archives, 8 fucking terabytes worth of external hard drives containing nearly every bit of creative work I've done since the
early 90's. All the analog photos I had of myself as a kid, my daughter
as a kid, my parents (both of whom, I'm sure you already know, passed
away, in 09 and 15), my brother, my niece who was brutally murdered at
age 4 when I was twelve, court transcripts related to the murder trial,
court papers dealing with my daughter when she was a minor, and
uncountable little things that have negligible real-world value but are sentimentally priceless and completely irreplaceable.
You still gonna keep telling me that this is the same thing as me making
a single goddamned phone call IN RESPONSE TO PHONE CALLS AND OTHER
HARASSMENT DINK HAD PREVIOUSLY ENGAGED IN? You fucking sick pig.
But hey, we're still not done! Because then Chad invited me to use his
place here. A thing that would not have been necessary if Dink hadn't
fucked me.
And while my car was parked here last week - where it NEVER WOULD HAVE
BEEN IF NOT FOR DINK'S FUCKERY - someone broke my driver's window out, leaving me unable to work AGAIN and flat broke AGAIN, nothing left to do
but ask for help. Help did not come in sufficient time - and all things considered I can certainly understand why my readership has a case of
charity fatigue - and since the car was parked instead of being
constantly on the move as it would have been if not for this bullshit,
every bit of which starts with and derives from Dink's sick obsession,
it was a sitting duck for the repo man.
Event a leads to b leads to c leads to d. Event A is Dink's fuckery. Everything else comes from that.
Now you shut your fucking face and step the fuck out of my world
permanently before I decide to pay attention to you. I've got zero
problem pushing for a federal case if you're not in the country, there's already one asshole in Canada I'm going to have to deal with anyway so
adding one more in Australia or wherever and whoever the fuck you are -
I genuinely don't care, just tossing it out in case this stupid
chickenshit sockpuppet is the one someone earlier told me was Zed as if
I really give a fuck who any of you are - won't be a really huge deal. Killfile me and move the fuck on, or stay in my lane and I'll run you
down like a blind, three-legged possum on a country road at midnight,
you pissant dog- fucking offal.
I hope I've made my feelings, and the facts, clear. Now fuck off.
--
Now, I mean. Don't respond, you're a stupid lying douche with nothing to
add but bullshit. Just STFU and GTFO."
A classic. If you ended up with less than 23 lies, you probably lost
count.
"I'm sure the world will be fine without my continued "help," and
I'm equally sure that I'm at the very end of everything. In two
days I'm on the streets with nothing."
A whole lot of folks apparently believe that's exactly how things
should be, and it's really only been the last couple of days that
have made clear just how many of those folks there are, and how
many of them have been standing here acting all buddy-buddy for
years while seething with hate. And maybe they're right. Either
way, in two days I'm in a parking lot with a bunch of boxes.
If that's how it plays out I don't plan to see what day four has in
store. I might anyway, but I don't plan it it. I don't even see
how I'd make it that far if I wanted to."
Damn you, Google Pay him yesterday, you bastards!
"Sorry, but what's the point? How much more of this do y'all need
to see? I'm broken beyond repair, clearly nothing I do has any
serious impact because all anyone seems to see is when I need
money, I'm not employable, and apparently there's this long trail
of broken bodies lying in my wake...what's the point? Seriously.
I've always believed in being as real as it gets, that the constant
focus on window dressing and surface matters was a fatal flaw in
our thinking. It seems pretty likely that I've set myself up for
"friends" and self-appointed (they all are) enemies alike to use as
a non-stop punching bag until I just give up.
These people HATE me. You won't believe it but I'm telling you
there are people reading this with glee, they glory in my misery
and despair and hopelessness and defeat, and the sad fact is they
might have the right of it. Maybe I am that bad. Maybe the truth
is I'm just sad clown, wrong about everything, and I've blown my
life away trying to save a world that didn't even need it and
accomplishing nothing more than making a damned fool of myself for
the entertainment of psychopaths.
I want to keep going. I want to work and help and fix and show
because I can see.
But how, man? And who the hell am I to think I've got anything to
say in the first place, ya know? Maybe what I see is just
self-serving delusions and stupid lies and self-pity and excuses to
not get a real job.
Maybe I'm just a gigantic coward and all of this is my way of
destroying myself because I'm exhausted and just can't with
anything anymore."
Cowardly? Delusional? Stupid?
That pretty much sums up John in his last appearance in RSPW.
"If it's not the rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses it's
the Desmonds and OD's and if it's not them it's my family deciding
I'm not worth a damn and if it's not them it's people I tried my
damnedest to do my best for, getting resentful and threatening to
"expose" me when I tell them that I'm sorry but I'm not really in a
position to give them $400 to help them keep their place when I've
already lost my own AND I'd previously let them live with me for
free but they didn't want to stick around because I wouldn't put up
with their using opiates in my house."
111 Words and one fucking period! No doubt that's John writing
this. Who didn't John trash? "rasslin' marks and their ancient
psychoses"? I think he might have even trashed Chadweasel!
Ah! Fellow junkies are blackmailing John. Bad choices give you bad
options, grasshopper.
"Oh, and supposedly there's a whole group of people involved,
again. Every person I've ever shaken hands with is apparently on
their own social network where the topic of conversation is always
what a prick I am and how I deserve to die."
How come I never get invited? I tried searching on "John Henry's
Bridge Burners" and nary a hit.
"Every time I turn around it's another knife. And that's before
I've even started thinking about the news today, oh boy. How many
different ways does the universe have to kick me in the head before
I figure out that My Kind Is Not Welcome Here?
I'm tired, man. I've BEEN tired.
It's all well and good to have reasons to live, but they don't do a
whole lot if you don't have the means or the will.
I definitely don't have the first, and frankly I'm on my last drop
of the second. "
It's the Evil Desmond Conspiracy keeping John down! Fedex him
repeatedly before he's evicted!
"So if someone out there's got a few good reasons to keep bothering
when I feel so broken and useless and have ended up accomplishing
exactly the opposite of everything I ever wanted to, including
helping the people I love, I'd sure love to hear from you if you've
bothered reading this far.
Show me some beauty, please. I've given up on money or not being
homeless in a couple of days or trying to change the world or help
or save or any of that. I just would really like to have some
beauty, you know? Just something to give me back that feeling that
my failed and useless life ever meant anything, just one more time,
a song before I go to whom it may concern. Cat pictures. Sunsets.
Something good and beautiful and kind that reminds me there really
are good people out there and not everyone is just out for
themselves at whatever cost.
Just a little bit of good.
Please?
Love y'all.
(It'd be cool if someone would be willing to come get my stuff and
store it until my daughter can get to it and go through and get
what she wants/needs out of it. It might be a minute; along with
not being able to help myself, I haven't been much good to her
either. Sorry hon. I meant to do better. I guess I just didn't
know how.)
(PS: Dear Ed - the joke's on us, pal. Their will doesn't grow
tired.)”
The joke has always been on you, John. Even the marks have run out
of money.
ProTip: Jails are heated and they feed you too. Ask Chadweasel!
...resulting in a neat solution: give the drive to the FBI. All
problems solved!
John needs to do some heinous shit in front of a police station. A
public defender will probably fuck it up to the point where he'll get
20 years.
I have solutions too.
In other news:
John claims some suckers came through with enough money to keep him at a shithole motel for another week. More content to come when he's broke
again.
Damn you, Desmond. Damn you all to hell. Plus John claims he broke a
disk drive and it had all his archives.
Venmo him now.
John is about to get streeted.
Western Union him now.
“Yeah.
I think this isn't going to work and I'm f**ked. I have a couple of
days left in this room, no money, no food, and no hope. I'm officially
paid up through morning and have just enough cash on hand for one more
day, and then that's it, I'm done and gone and that's the end of JH.
I've got six slices of baloney and two of bread."
Not even a can of Beefaroni. You heartless bastards need to donate like never before. How dare you expect him to support himself on the lack of content? If I may be so bold as to suggest some marketing help, I'd say "Baloney-roni" doesn't quite have the ring to it that gets the suckers sending money.
"Guess "everyone" was right. I should've just sold out, kept doing
drugs, and done the people around me the favor of checking out when I realized twenty-some-odd years ago that I was a broken piece of garbage, nobody much gives a damn what I think, and it's beyond arrogant of me to think they should. "
Here comes the self-pity mode!
"I always told myself I kept going for my kid, but the truth is she'd
have been way better off if I'd gone out in a tragic accident before she
was old enough to remember me."
Dragging the kid into it is pretty desperate. PayPal him now.
"Now I'm being threatened with extortion (again) by an old friend who I trusted and tried to help (again) even though I knew better and
shouldn't have been involved at all (again) but I'm a sucker (again). Because clearly my life is going so well that I've got money to give
away and threatening me is the way to make that happen."
John "tried to help" someone? That clearly wasn't Beth Aultman he's
talking about.
"Dumb thing is, it's no threat. I don't want to ruin anyone's breakfast
but I've been candid about my sexual history here before and there's no
need to rehash it. It's certainly not always something I'm proud of or
happy about, and I was approaching forty before I even really started understanding just how deeply some things that happened very early in my life (not trying to be evasive, just polite; I've gone into detail previously) shaped me as a person, including as a sexual and romantic person."
Why would someone try to blackmail a pauper? Can there be someone dumber than John? Even junkies aren't that stupid, but then again it is
Michigan so I'm out of my depth.
"And by "shaped" I mean "broke." I am, to put it in technical terms,
pretty f'ked up. I didn't know how f'ked up until I started getting
toward forty and realizing that moment when I suddenly got interested in women my own age wasn't gonna happen, even after doing years of work on
the rest of the reasons I needed to fix before I bothered even trying to
be in a relationship again. I'm likely going to be single for the rest
of my life, and I've learned to be okay with that; it certainly beats
the alternatives, nearly all of which are harmful."
Hoo-boy. This sounds like someone is confessing to some sordid shit.
"I'm sure the world will be fine without my continued "help," and I'm equally sure that I'm at the very end of everything. In two days I'm on
the streets with nothing."
A whole lot of folks apparently believe that's exactly how things should
be, and it's really only been the last couple of days that have made
clear just how many of those folks there are, and how many of them have
been standing here acting all buddy-buddy for years while seething with hate. And maybe they're right. Either way, in two days I'm in a parking
lot with a bunch of boxes.
If that's how it plays out I don't plan to see what day four has in
store. I might anyway, but I don't plan it it. I don't even see how
I'd make it that far if I wanted to."
Damn you, Google Pay him yesterday, you bastards!
"Sorry, but what's the point? How much more of this do y'all need to
see? I'm broken beyond repair, clearly nothing I do has any serious
impact because all anyone seems to see is when I need money, I'm not employable, and apparently there's this long trail of broken bodies
lying in my wake...what's the point? Seriously.
I've always believed in being as real as it gets, that the constant
focus on window dressing and surface matters was a fatal flaw in our thinking. It seems pretty likely that I've set myself up for "friends"
and self-appointed (they all are) enemies alike to use as a non-stop punching bag until I just give up.
These people HATE me. You won't believe it but I'm telling you there
are people reading this with glee, they glory in my misery and despair
and hopelessness and defeat, and the sad fact is they might have the
right of it. Maybe I am that bad. Maybe the truth is I'm just sad
clown, wrong about everything, and I've blown my life away trying to
save a world that didn't even need it and accomplishing nothing more
than making a damned fool of myself for the entertainment of
psychopaths.
I want to keep going. I want to work and help and fix and show because
I can see.
But how, man? And who the hell am I to think I've got anything to say
in the first place, ya know? Maybe what I see is just self-serving
delusions and stupid lies and self-pity and excuses to not get a real
job.
Maybe I'm just a gigantic coward and all of this is my way of destroying myself because I'm exhausted and just can't with anything anymore."
Cowardly? Delusional? Stupid?
That pretty much sums up John in his last appearance in RSPW.
"If it's not the rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses it's the Desmonds and OD's and if it's not them it's my family deciding I'm not
worth a damn and if it's not them it's people I tried my damnedest to do
my best for, getting resentful and threatening to "expose" me when I
tell them that I'm sorry but I'm not really in a position to give them
$400 to help them keep their place when I've already lost my own AND I'd previously let them live with me for free but they didn't want to stick around because I wouldn't put up with their using opiates in my house."
111 Words and one fucking period! No doubt that's John writing this. Who didn't John trash? "rasslin' marks and their ancient psychoses"? I think
he might have even trashed Chadweasel!
Ah! Fellow junkies are blackmailing John. Bad choices give you bad
options, grasshopper.
"Oh, and supposedly there's a whole group of people involved, again.
Every person I've ever shaken hands with is apparently on their own
social network where the topic of conversation is always what a prick I
am and how I deserve to die."
How come I never get invited? I tried searching on "John Henry's Bridge Burners" and nary a hit.
"Every time I turn around it's another knife. And that's before I've
even started thinking about the news today, oh boy. How many different
ways does the universe have to kick me in the head before I figure out
that My Kind Is Not Welcome Here?
I'm tired, man. I've BEEN tired.
It's all well and good to have reasons to live, but they don't do a
whole lot if you don't have the means or the will.
I definitely don't have the first, and frankly I'm on my last drop of
the second. "
It's the Evil Desmond Conspiracy keeping John down! Fedex him repeatedly before he's evicted!
"So if someone out there's got a few good reasons to keep bothering when
I feel so broken and useless and have ended up accomplishing exactly the opposite of everything I ever wanted to, including helping the people I love, I'd sure love to hear from you if you've bothered reading this
far.
Show me some beauty, please. I've given up on money or not being
homeless in a couple of days or trying to change the world or help or
save or any of that. I just would really like to have some beauty, you
know? Just something to give me back that feeling that my failed and
useless life ever meant anything, just one more time, a song before I go
to whom it may concern. Cat pictures. Sunsets. Something good and
beautiful and kind that reminds me there really are good people out
there and not everyone is just out for themselves at whatever cost.
Just a little bit of good.
Please?
Love y'all.
(It'd be cool if someone would be willing to come get my stuff and store
it until my daughter can get to it and go through and get what she wants/needs out of it. It might be a minute; along with not being able
to help myself, I haven't been much good to her either. Sorry hon. I
meant to do better. I guess I just didn't know how.)
(PS: Dear Ed - the joke's on us, pal. Their will doesn't grow tired.)”
The joke has always been on you, John. Even the marks have run out of
money.
ProTip: Jails are heated and they feed you too. Ask Chadweasel!
"I never did any of this shit. I never called people's jobs, not even
Dink.
And then Dink made his complaint, and it completely fucked me. See if
you can follow a sequence of events without getting confused here, blockhead:
I was pulled off the road for about 9 days with NO explanation from
Lyft, they wouldn't even answer direct questions via e-mail. Call it
$1300 in lost income, automatic payments that weren't covered hitting my bank account and running that nearly a thousand dollars into the red ON
TOP of the lost wages, so now we're at 2300 bucks I'm out of pocket on
this bit of fucker. That left me unable to pay rent for November, the
last month on my lease.
It also left me unable to earn money and keep it since everything I
earned went into the black hole of my bank account.
So now - and again, this is STILL the cascading result of the fuckery
you're defending, you mealy mouthed son of a bitch - I gotta beg money
for gas so I can work.
Eventually I was able to get that together - another couple of days
lost, another three hundred or so in missing income - and went back to
work.
When I went back to work, I really had to kick it out, working 14 hours
(the legal max) 7 days a week to try and scramble to replace my losses.
Then I had a blowout (which I would have replaced the prior week if I
hadn't just been fucked out of now $2600 and counting by Dink) and was
off a couple of more days I couldn't afford.
So NOW I've got to find a rim and buy that, with no money, so I do THAT
- ANOTHER couple of days lost, STILL cascading results of Dink's
fuckery,
All things I'd have never had to worry about if Dink hadn't made that
phone call, which he did regardless of how much bullshit he tries to lay
on you, I've already got the complaint record from Lyft.
He filed it
with a borrowed phone, but really who the fuck else with a 770 area code
and an ATL billing address is going to stalk my facebook page looking
for reasons to complain to my employer?
Of all the people I've known in
Georgia, the only one I've had any sort of interaction with since I left
the wrestling business is Dink and nobody else would have the slightest reason to even try. So fuck off with that bullshit too.
| Sysop: | Keyop |
|---|---|
| Location: | Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, UK |
| Users: | 297 |
| Nodes: | 16 (0 / 16) |
| Uptime: | 121:09:05 |
| Calls: | 6,662 |
| Files: | 12,212 |
| Messages: | 5,334,487 |