In the unlikely event you are reading this post and are not yet aware of the mindless, supernaturally persistent, and fundamentally diseased and cowardly bird thanamed Kimberly Duclos that has been pecking and honking at me for over two years now, do your due diligence and visit this page. Don’t skim, read; if you’re into this crap, you need to be all in. Then check out this post from a couple weeks ago and the comments beneath, where the same creature, whose given name is Kim Duclos, makes multiple appearances as “Beth.Proal.”
All set? Do you have the picture of an obsessive, bitter, pathological burned-out husk of a human being who blames people for her own problems, lies freely under oath — in fact, she once bragged to her then-roommate, “I lie because it gets me what I want” — and would be quite likely to spew wild fictions when the truth would save or improve her life simply because lying is practically all that she has ever known?
In the past couple of weeks, Kim has continued to employ the same tactics that have earned her nothing but frustration and — inasmuch as any cares what she has to say at this point, or ever has — scorn. On April 11, she posted a bunch of crap about me on a prominent New Hampshire runner’s blog, and it was deleted. A couple of her recent fever-dream Facebook posts about me have been deleted by the overlords for terms-of-service violations — actually the same essential post slightly reworded the second time around. This is what invariably happens when Kim starts waxing psychotic about me — no one wants any part of it. Sometimes I see these contributions and request that they be deleted, while in other cases someone else reports the post and tells me about it.
Either way, it tears her up. She just can’t get her way. It’s a conspiracy. Actually, it’s not; Kimberly is one of those rare people who has rendered herself globally untrustworthy, and no one who actually knows her takes her blathering seriously. The smoldering bridge-remains in her rearview mirror would probably reach from L.A. to Honolulu if they were placed end-to-end, but even disinterested people who have never been in her line of fire and know nothing about her apart from her scattershot online nattering have noted that she seems bonkers.
Yesterday was an especially bad head day for Kim in a long parade of such days, and it was obvious that such a day was coming, because she doesn’t take having her garbage swept off of the floors and walls of the Internet well at all — which is completely understandable, given that cowards of her ilk have no weapons in their arsenals other than quasi-anonymous online spitballs.
First, she decided to resurrect the “blog” she wisely abandoned last June after a series of self-engineered humiliations, so that she could once again wax delusional about her wonderfully fulfillin’, super-busy, all-sortsa-stuff-happenin’ ol’ life! Balance! (Is it gratuitous to observe that Kimberly Duclos’s blog would suck thanks to her grating style alone even if the content didn’t consist of raw sewage?) Second, she deleted all of her “Beth.Proal” comments (I saw this coming from the start — she never anticipated that I would publish them in the first place — and preserved them here), establishing that she was planning to do something nasty and wished to limit evidence of her character flaws to the fullest extent possible. Then, she once again attempted to play what she firmly believes is her trump card by making an “anonymous” post on Letsrun.com highlighting my various drunken misadventures from 2013 and before; she wasn’t present for any of these and they are as relevant to her “arguments” as her declining physical state is to my own, but she’s convinced she can use a handful of musty minor-league charges (think open-container violations and subsequent FTAs because yours truly was too besotted to realize he’d received any court citations) to portray me as a dangerous and violent criminal who has no business coaching women or anyone else. This post was zapped by the mods in short order, but I will be discussing its particulars in my next post about this pointless and senile mess.
So in summary, while I have now chronicled the bullshit leading to and including my and Kim Duclos’s mutual court appearance in grim detail, such information is not necessary to underscore that I am dealing with a bona fide sicko here, one who, as I’ve noted, has exhausted my capacity to feel bad for her in the slightest.