Kim Duclos, a flagrant liar and shitbag who takes exception to being called a lying bag of shit, doesn’t like it when people make fun of the absurdities she posts to Reddit, the one place she feels safe spinning and spouting angry fictions about leading an amazing life despite the devious ways of her loathsome adversaries. She’s used no fewer than seven Reddit handles in the last year: duclok2, i_climb_rocks_a_lot, Kitty_BunBuns_, HungryBuffsDriver, Legal_Throwaway34, Literal_Crap_Bag, and iCodeToYachtRock. She used duclok2 to lie about her academic history, whereas she’s dedicated the others almost entirely to posting lies about me and my friends.
She has recently settled exclusively on iCodeToYachtRock even though she knows I and my friends are having a field day on Twitter with the garbled-ass nonsense she catapults into Reddit-space using that moniker. For a while, I, not knowing what it’s like to inhabit the mind of a mentally troubled moron, couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t at least create yet another handle so that she could try to fly under the radar for a while. But because of my inexperience at being a worthless loon, I had it all wrong. You see, it doesn’t bother Kim that no one actually cares about her fables, or that any discerning person who reads her posts even without any foreknowledge of her antics can immediately see that she’s both full of shit and utterly bonkers. All that matters to Kim is that she gets to say something dishonest on the Internet and it won’t be deleted as long as she doesn’t name names.
This is basically the life Kim has settled into for good: Get online every day and courageously continue to craft a life that bears little relationship to reality, and blame every single one of the many things she’s fucked up on someone or something else. She is the epitome of someone who has absolutely no worthwhile purpose except for playing out the string until the lights blessedly go out for good (more on the dire implications of this later in the post).Here’s some of her very recent work. As diseased as her mind is, she’s like anyone else in that her writing becomes more frantic and loopy the more emotionally disturbed she finds herself. She plainly wasn’t happy with some of my latest Twitter activity, so…well, just read.
If you’re familiar with Kim’s behavior — and you probably wouldn’t be reading this otherwise — then you already know the basics. Kim reached out to me cold for coaching in late 2009, having known of me via our shared membership in the Central Mass Striders. I agreed to coach her at a reduced rate because she wasn’t working and was living on unemployment, and agreed to keep coaching her after she made the only two payments to me she would ever make; I did this because, believe it or not, I empathized with some of her flaws and wanted to see someone who was clearly a maladjusted bozo succeed in running, which was the one thing likely to keep her otherwise calamitous life on a somewhat stable track. She’s also not the only person I have coached for free, although she’s the only one who is both an ingrate and a shambling heap of dung in general.
The above screed is, as advertised, quite a story. Very little of it is true; some of it is impossible to place in even a dishonest context because it is aimless, senseless rambling. But for the most part it includes two distinct narratives, and neither of these bears even a faint resemblance to the facts. (Also consider whether a victim of genuine abuse would ever lead off a description of that abuse with a jaunty “Story time!” She’s too socially retarded and too stupid in general to recognize basic realities like this.)
Before I delve into specifics, I’ll again emphasize something to which Kim herself should pay very close attention. This crazy, ugly (in every sense), evil and just plain ghastly motherfucker has been droning on for years about all of the evidence she supposedly has of my and other people’s stalking and criminal malfeasance. More recently, she has embarked on claims that she’s been in touch with the authorities (perhaps forgetting that nothing good happens when you lie to the cops), has multiple lawyers on hand, and that her boyfriend and family members are all in on the game, et cetera. This is a typical socially isolated paranoiac’s pitiful “I have allies! I have proof!” salvo, but it invites a critical observation, which is this:
People who have evidence of criminal activity perpetrated by those who repeatedly mock them do not sit back and wait for a more opportune time to act on that evidence — especially if this activity personally threatens them, and especially if they have legal representation.
While I have been entirely justified at every step in crafting a bunch of pages, blog posts and tweets about Kim, I freely admit that some of the things I’ve posted abut her have contained gratuitous meanness. (Don’t confuse this desultory admission with regret. I don’t regret a single word I’ve ever said or published about Kim Duclos, other than the complementary things I said eight or nine years ago before I got wise to her shittiness.) Kim has understandably not been happy with my postings — not with the countless ones exposing her extraordinary numerous and far-reaching lies and malicious statements, and certainly not with the ones that go a step further and turn her into a virtual punching bag.
All of this implies beyond any simmering doubt that if Kim could get rid of all of the stuff I’ve uploaded to the Web about her, she’d do it. It may be her overriding goal in life, in fact. She’s already tried doing this using non-legal channels. She contacted my Web host a few months ago complaining that I was using kemibe.com to threaten “people,” and she got USATF-New England to remove the interview it did with her in 2009 naming her December Athlete of the Month, because in that interview — which I had nothing to do with and knew nothing about until she told me it has been posted — she had revealed the specific ways in which she believed I had been a boon to her training. (USATF-NE’s operatives told me straight up that didn’t believe her story at all, but they were happy to appease someone who was unquestionably insane, and took the path of least resistance. And honestly, I never wanted my coaching associated with Kim’s name anyway.)
So even if it wasn’t already clear that Kim lies about everything of substance, her inaction in the face of everything I’ve posted about her, and continue to post, says it all. She has every reason to try to stop me, but she can’t, because it’s all true and she knows it.
Anyway, as for the explosive and messy verbal flatulence in this Reddit post, it’s mostly the usual “reverse girl” (as someone who barely knows her started calling her years ago) rambling. After the first two months I coached her, Kim never paid me again, but here she is saying I wanted to make a buck off her “success.” She claims I made social-media accounts in my name, which I never have — but she has posted on sites using my name. The person she’s talking about in her jabbering about a lease dispute is my friend and ex-girlfriend Tara, and guess who actually stiffed whom in that case? Guess who actually fled Indiana (why Kim was there in the first is a long story, but I was responsible for saddling Tara with Kim’s toxic presence in 2010, though I really did have noble intentions) and who remained in Bloomington, where she now has her own house? Guess whose mom really isn’t an alcoholic?
The second account not only deviates from reality, it’s from an alternate reality. You can almost see her going off the rails as she gets further into this colossal mess of a rant, typing faster, her liver-lips parted even more than usual as her eyes glaze over and she starts actually panting as the lies flow out of her with increasing energy and velocity, affording her the Kim Duclos equivalent of sexual satisfaction as the bullshit-geyser reaches its crescendo.
Rather than dissect and refute every chunk of this, which would be like demonstrating yet again how everything in “creation science” is wrong, I will acknowledge that for the first time, I am starting to think that the people concerned for my safety might have a point. About a half-dozen locals and a few more people back in New England routinely follow this nasty saga, and for the first time, some of them are saying things like, “Are you sure you want to push that sicko’s buttons? She seems like she has the capacity to actually become violent. Look how easy it is to get a gun.” And when I remind them that her Internet braggadocio is, unsurprisingly, complemented by a complete aversion to genuine confrontation, they do the finger-waggling, “It only takes the first time,” except that they no more waggle their fingers than Kim hosts hacker parties.
Let’s pretend Kim really is taking photos of me while I am out running in her neighborhood, which happens to include a 400-meter track, and where I was sometimes running well before Kim’s malodorous orb of a body made it to the apartment complex in which she now sweats out booze all day, every day. I say “pretend” because there’s a chance she is telling the truth about this. She is very clearly obsessed with me. On Reddit, more than once she’s gone into long, counterfactual detail about me even when she believed (correctly, for a while) that I was not watching. This is different from active trolling, which in part is what this post and its brethren are about. In other words, it’s one thing when she actively tries to bait me; that’s always good for a few wry-but-sad shaking-my-head moments, but doesn’t seem threatening, only idiotic, like Kim herself. But she knows where I live, and if she doesn’t know the exact house, she could easily find out. She knows what kind of car I drive. I am not especially protective of my privacy on social media because, frankly, I don’t have any known enemies except for Kim, whom I’ve long regarded as more of a high-end, oxygen-thieving nuisance than anything else. But Kim, I must emphasize, has little to nothing to lose. She knows she’s never going to achieve any of the things she declaims about. She stands as much chance of becoming a software engineer as she does of becoming an astronaut. She would be lucky to hold down a job as a janitor or a Wal-Mart cashier, even without the delusions of being too good for such occupations. She’s not going to have “trust fund kids” (as she once said she hoped to eventually have) or, failing an act of bioterrorism, any kids. She, for the rest of her stay on the planet, is going to be doing exactly what she’s doing now: Trying frantically to not lose her squash altogether in between being hauled around to concerts, snowboarding trips, Burning Man, or other shit Sean springs for.
I’m not saying I am worried per se, but I am putting this out there so that I can at least say that I’ve upped my inner concern level from “minimal” to “small but nonzero.” The way she jabbers repetitively about how she and I were never romantically involved (which is of course true) combined with her well-established “reverse girl” tendencies suggests that she really did move here mainly because she has the sort of psychological attachment to me that I very much wish to not even ponder. Not because she’s fuckin’ gross, which she is. But because she is mentally ill.
On a somewhat lighter note, I wonder what Kim would say if the two of us sat down with a moderator and reviewed all of her claims about me. For example, she knows that I have a dog, and a car, and a place to live; that I drove back and forth across the country earlier this year; and that I’ve been running races, and going to group running functions, and so on. As she continues to wallow in obvious alcohol abuse, she knows I’m obviously telling the truth about having given up booze myself two years ago, because she understands that none of these other things could have happened otherwise.
I’m not patting myself on the back for these modest feats. I’m just wondering what Kim would say if she were asked point-blank, “So how does someone permanently plastered, earning no income, and living under a bridge manage all of this?” When I consider such matters, I invariably return the the tableau at the Justice Center in Boulder in March 2016, when, in response to similar queries and being caught in glaring lies, she really did sit there with her froglike mouth hanging open, shuffling papers as if these would magically reveal her lies to be true, all while her beleaguered drone of an Asperger’s-stricken boyfriend-cum-caregiver started furiously at the floor, at the wall, and sometimes at nothing at all.
Anyway, if anyone fucks with my car, or my bike in the back yard, or anything on this property, I will be incrementally more inclined to suspect Kim, her cowardice notwithstanding, and incrementally less likely to suspect a random homeless person. On one of those occasions on which she didn’t know I was watching, she plaintively admitted that she’s miserable here and unhappy in her relationship. She should make every effort to haul her ass elsewhere even though she has no means of supporting herself. I can’t see her lasting another six months without some kind of truly dire and remarkable eruption at this rate.