Make that a psychiatric ward. Or a pathological liars’ convention. Or a self-help group for people who need to vent about who’s to blame for their failures in life: Liberals, faggots, people who can function in everyday life without begging or resorting to crude sexual acts, etc.
Wait. In one paragraph, I’ve just described my view of the Internet lately.
Think of this post as the prologue of a novel you would only read if you were bored in an airport and wanted to feel both better about yourself and worse about humanity at the same time.
In late March, someone pointed me at the Facebook page of a “Christian” who was reveling in the death of Stephen Hawking because Hawking was an atheist. Rather than just laughing him off as the sad and angry old twerp he is, I dug a little further and saw that he was an ignorant homophobe whose only job in life going back decades had been asking for handouts to support his gay-bashing habit, labeling this a “ministry” to provide both a tax dodge and a means of evading honest work, as religious cranks so often do. I started blogging about him on Beck of the Pack because of his vague past connections to track and field, but that was probably a mistake because I wound up littering a running blog with thousands of words about him.
If you’ve read this blog in the past, you’re already familiar with Granite Grok, a repository for the dumbest and most extreme right-wing nonsense in New Hampshire, if not the entire Northeastern united States. Climate-change denial, racism, homophobia, woman-bashing — this loose cabal of about eight or ten flamboyantly ignorant men (and the occasional woman) has it all. They even hate most other Republicans, because they see everyone to the left of, say, Genghis Khan as a socialist Marxist. As you would expect of anyone eager to subsist on a news diet of Breitbart and Gateway Pundit, they write so badly as to be borderline unintelligible most of the time. The primary figures are a couple of coots named Skip Murphy, who like the aforementioned gay-basher is an Evangelical “Christian” fueled by hatred and the inability to form coherent sentences, and Ed Naile, who has dedicated his entire post-vocational life (he had a tree-trimming business that went under in thee 1990s and now apparently survives on odd jobs and odder habits) to chasing the white whale of Democratic voter fraud. He assuredly pays no income taxes, so naturally, he’s the longtime head of an organization called Coalition of New Hampshire Taxpayers. To the extent this blog has garnered any attention at all in the Granite State, the attention has been negative, at times embarrassingly so.
Kim Duclos is a different animal. The gay-basher, if nothing else, has cultivated a following of profoundly disturbed rednecks and easy marks who, like him, take solace in the idea that the LORD will cure what ails the world if only they call for progressively noisier prayers every couple of hours; for their part, the Granite Grokkers at least have each other’s wrinkly asses to slap even if everyone else in New Hampshire just shakes their heads at them. But Kim has no genuine friends, zero, not even deranged Internet-only “friends,” although she does have a caregiver I’ll generously refer to as her boyfriend. She used to have a friend or two at a time, but some combination of shoddy wiring and ramshackle influences renders her incapable of seeing human beings as anything other than ATMs or DVDs. She eventually shits on whatever friends she makes as surely as she initially entrusts them with the insane things she believes about the trail of people who are no longer in her life — making the whole prospect of dealing with her on any level a “caveat emptor” prospect from the outset.
Kim has spent her entire adult life trying to extract money, expertise and the very basics of survival from others without working for it, slipping farther and farther down the rung of the mental-health ladder over time thanks to alcohol, despair, an abandonment of her exercise habit, and whatever went wrong when the zygote that ultimately became her was first formed. She was a solid marathoner almost a decade ago, in her late twenties — and I really wish she hadn’t been, because she never would have reached out to me otherwise — but even then she was maladjusted and reliant on other people for subsistence, ungratefully so. Now, after following me to Colorado with her boyfriend (a truly perverse arrangement, if her own words on the subject are to be believed), she sits on her ass, drinks, and complains online about how much she hates life, variously mixing in fictions about working, going to school, volunteering at the local animal shelter — anything to make her look like more than someone who basically trades sex for the dubious luxury of lying around spouting lies and resentment into as many corners of the Internet as she can. Occasionally, her boyfriend will haul her progressively bloated carcass to a new location for a spell, e.g., a snowboarding trip or a vacation to Vegas. But when the carcass returns, it’s more aggressively stupid and pissed-off than ever, because Kim has no purpose here, and is continually presented with the sight of fit, attractive, prosperous people doing the one thing Kim used to do with any proficiency, only better.
Just today, Ed and Kim (posting as “June” here) had this exchange.
The “white Ford pickup” bullshit in reference to the lies Kim told to a Boulder Police Department officer on February 26, 2016 and again in court on March 14, 2016. Sadly for her, she was too stupid when she called the cops in a freakout after discovering the trolling jog was up to consider that I might have an alibi.
To top off being as loathsome a besotted brain-dead trash-mouth as possible, Kim e-mailed this to one of my friends and business associates today.
And Ed is so fucking dumb, and Kim so oblivious to her own lies, that neither overgrown child could remember that it was supposedly a grey truck.
The stuff about me not holding a driver’s license or owning a car are also lies.
I wonder, though, if either of these pieces of shit is willing to bet money on their assertions, and if so, how much. I’ll gladly transfer $10,000 in the hands of a neutral party if either Kim or Ed is willing to bet even $1,000 that I cannot produce evidence of a valid driver’s license and the title too my MINI Cooper.
I wonder sometimes what it’s like to be this defective and unlovable a mammal as people like these.
If you want more background on any of these idiots, follow some of the links in the previous paragraphs. Otherwise, I’ll pick up the story in the present in a day or two. Sneak preview: Think of the Evangelical guy as the venture capitalist of delusional shitmongering in this comedy-drama, Kim as the stupid, shifty and dogged broker, and Granite Grok as the slack-jawed, vituperative, gluttonous consumer.