Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Lord of the Flies.

I have the dubious distinction of knowing the most disordered slap fuck that has ever inflicted himself  on the unsuspecting masses.
Beyond the insanity of even my mother the Barbarian.
She is far more crazy, but at least she tries to hide it.
The OTHER malcontent in my life loves to drop his pants and press the ass cheeks of his insanity firmly against the windshield of the world. Party balloons for the crazy train.
 I have had the misfortune to occupy this douche bag's locus of control  for over a decade. And he has been a total asswipe since day one. He is sure that any one tangentially connected to me are all in league and have dedicated our lives to the undoing of his. Never mind how narcissistic this thinking is. And that the logistics of this would prevent league members from ever holding a steady job.
Like him.
He was never the least bit cordial. He presents with a pleasant demeanor about as often as Venus transits the sun. Even then, his smile is forced. His face awash with Nixonesque presidential debate flop sweat.
He revels in dispensing non-stop venom about all the things he hates in me. EVERY communication between him and the common denominator that keeps us in captured rotation begins with an inventory of the qualities that he thinks makes me a seriously damaged human being, and ends with how much he hates the way I lick stamps. The only time this person ever behaved himself was the time he needed help moving out of his apartment. So like the decent person I am, I helped, thinking it might be the beginning of some sort of friendly relationship. Yeah right!
As soon as his U-Haul crossed state lines the diatribes were back.
And I really wouldn't give a flying fuck.
But if I say as much as say boo to him, I get the 24/7 narcissistic enema and all the protests about him being attacked with no provocation. His keeping my head in a paint shaker for years is not admissible evidence in his court of one..
 Like a kid hypnotically flicking his lighter as he watches firemen battling a blaze, he can't imagine that  someone might see and recognize him for the erratic ass wipe that he really is. I have heard his dimwitted hate mongering for too long.  He says anything he wants, anytime he wants.  And I am supposed to step aside and let the big dog eat.
As if him proclaiming his meritorious conduct and virtue, while bemoaning the sad state of a world that allows a lamb like him to be led to slaughter by the likes of me, nullifies years of back biting, trash talking, and his lower than low class insults.
If ignoring his dumb ass got me anywhere, I would carry on as before. But he won't be ignored.
So if you want it, here it is. I'll bring it. I have your greatest hits compilation. Unhinged and raving.  Ten years worth.
If you need me to refresh your memory, I will be happy to.
Because I....... now choose to tell the world what a pathetic one nutted  loser ...YOU are.
Do you think sending me pictures of Billy Jack with captions telling me how you are going to kick my ass intimidates me?
Only a pussy lashes out at someone to run off and hide behind his mommies skirt.  Man up for once in your estrogen soaked life.  Don't bolster your words with ineffectual threats of police action and protracted court battles. If you could have me jailed you would.
 Between your incandescent hate for me, and your suicide blog threats du jour, it is you proving to be the danger to society.

The person who came up with the word queef, had to have been trapped in the seat next to you on an intercontinental flight.

You are the unwanted air in the vagina of the blog-o-sphere.

Tagged#  douchebagardlyNarcissympathypussydactel virusknicker sludge


vicariousrising said...

I was going to post a comment on another post of yours that seemed to have poofed into the Internet black hole. I was going to say that my mother has been coming up with new wrongs done to her that seem to be created out of thin air. She's worked herself into a lather over this professor who she claims plagiarized her work. The story has more holes in it than antique lace and when pressed about why it still bothers her so much, gets miffed and claims it doesn't and it was just a story to tell.

vicariousrising said...

Oh & this post is hysterical. But it leaves me with so many questions. Like, is there a wrong way to lick stamps? Is there an instruction manual? And doesnt air in a vagina make a farty sound? And isn't it unsanitary to press your insane butt cheeks on the windows of the world.

Inquiring minds want to know!

Anonymous said...

So ya got choo a stalker...who is CONVINCED it's all about HIM, right? He seems to think I'm all about him too, so I don't mind sharing if you don't. I'm all about spreading cyber-wackos amongst friends who like moi have a life beyond the cyber sphere and unwittingly have the dimwits/paranoid amongst us blunder/lunge/hit "send" and give their fool selves away on our little piece of musings.
Here's an example of how one of my innocent posts can drive this stalker so crazy, he masquerades as.....ME! I mentioned Pecker Pills and their correlation to impotence. Some men seem to think if they're less than 'endowed'-meaning, Pencil Dicks or the ones who look like a circumcision gone wrong-use these thinking somehow their dick will LOOK bigger than it actually IS. As if any woman can't tell the difference between a true stiffie and a wanna-be not to mention the ahh..."discomfort" to the male when they haven't read the directions or have and can't comprehend it's not a good idea to pop these pills like breath mints. I cyber-wondered if these Pecker-Pilled guys considered their appendage-challenged status as a "Disability" and if so, does that make them eligible for Handicapped Parking Permits? It just seems they SHOULD be getting some sort of compensation considering they're not getting anything else they desire more than a Pony for Christmas. (Preferably a mare.)
Well holey crapola. I NEVER mentioned words like, BiPolar, Bat-Shit Crazy, Social Security Disability, Thorazine, Lithium, Valium, or any other "ium"/geographical locations/identifying features that would REMOTELY lead this idiot to believe I had him in mind when I made the comment. I now had me YOUR stalker who was not only enraged-rather than engorged-or could it have been both? believing I'd even WANT to see his package or thought about him in ANY manner never mind his various..."issues" but apparently COULD identify with the Pecker-Challenged Cohort group. "Nonetheless," (yep, that's my name for HIM) that wasn't good enough for HIM aka "Nonetheless." Nope, he wants to BE ME. How bizarre is THAT? Even if we COULD somehow exchange genitals, what would ever lead him to believe I'd trade THIS for...THAT? I don't even have to SEE it to know it wouldn't matter how many socks/potatoes/dildos he shoved down there, what it's attached to is an automatic disqualification. Not to mention the whole "GU" (Geographically Undesirable) issue with me here in The Tundra and my/your/our unhinged cyber stalker living so far south of my location it'd be a damn long walk from there to here. No, he'd never get through airport security with all the underwear bombers running around and the Pecker Pill conundrum/fake stiffie that can't be differentiated from it's "resting state."
So, here's my take: If you have a troll/stalker consider the source very briefly-about as long as it would take for his OTHER problem, Premature Ejaculation to manifest (a nanosecond or less), hit delete and Blog on. Inevitably some 2PC-er/Involuntarily Committed more frequently than he's ever engaged in sexual activity with a woman (Note: Animals don't count, sorry) or anything with a pulse will attempt to grace your Blog with all the elan, charm and intelligence they display IRL. And if they're Pecker-Challenged they'll remain even more insanely delusional that any topic on your Blog all about THEEEMMMMMM!
My, my we give ourselves away; unfortunately he cant even GIVE it away because no one wants what he's offering. But that's OK. He's provided a great deal of amusement and has cyber-disrobed before the world only to be met by females in spasms of laughter while searching for some kind of cyber microscope trying to figure out, "Where? WHERE? I can't SEE it?!"
But apparently that's "good enough" for Social Security Disability.

Anonymous said...

Oh, and vicarious-great observations! Took the keyboard right outta my head. In the spirit of Blogosphere etiquette I must defer sharing my observations/experiences to your observations to q, our illustrious host. So I'll let q answer the questions of the universe including the one regarding 'farting vaginas.'
I have a feeling he may know something about them in view of The Barbarian's proclivities which also include "licking activities" and hairy butt cheeks. She was a Gold Medaler in the sport of "Psychopathic Whore" for whom nothing was sacred-except her life-time supply of douche in various and 'assordid' colors and flavors including "Tropical Twat" and "Coconut Crotch."
BTW, I think this is why comments are "moderated" considering moderation is absolutely essential to reasonable human discourse. The paranoid stalker who q and I are sharing through no fault of our own no doubt will be pulling on his wang yet again in a futile attempt to make it "bigger." Or even appear. So, if you see any guys with stretch marks on their fingers/hands/wrists, yup.....that's HIM! No doubt there are stretch marks on his dick as well but considering the size of the thing it'd be even more challenging to observe than the "member" itself. As if any one would care, but he just doesn't seem to comprehend this reality because he isn't sharing the same reality as the rest of the world. Remember, it's all about HIMMMMMMM, Mr. Paranoid Pecker, the aspiring underwear bomber. (With any luck he'll either blow it up, finally successfully pull it off or just let it fall off considering its shriveled and essentially useless state.)
But you knew that anyway!

Lisa said...

Wow, haha, that was epic TW

Wait, I think someone wants to say something to you...

Anonymous said...

Hi everybody,
You're right.
I'm an asshole.


Anonymous said...

D, If you were simply a run of the mill asshole that'd be just fine with me. I got PAID to deal with assholes like you on a regular basis before you were even born so I'm very conversant in "asshole-ology." I'd just pull out the prescription pad, fill in the blanks and see ya in the county jail the next time you decide you don't wanna take "those pills." Since you firmly believe they've impacted your non-existant sex life you'd rather get arrested for ridiculous shit, have 3 hots and a cot and get banged by members of your own gender. Fine with me. Interestingly being tackled by large men and pinned to the concrete floor tits down with some guy(s) sporting home made tattoos and riding your ass like Zorro is your idea of a good time. Fine with me.
Now a computer essentially writes the scripts for me. And I refuse to waste any more ink cartridges or time trying to fix the unfixable. Since you've long since blown by 'asshole' to delusions of grandeur as evidenced by wanting to actually BE me, you're not gonna like what I prescribe any better than the previous scripts.
"Annie, Get Your (Haldol) Gun!"

Adela Alba said...

Hm, hm, hm. Is that who I think it is? Why yes!

vicariousrising said...

Wow. The only cyber nutbuckets I ever get comments from are Jesus freaks who think AA is the church of Satan.