Bill Schmalfeldt keeps pushing the same button, hoping against hope that what he believes really is the truth. And every time he THINKS that he finds something that will help him prove that, he runs off half cocked, bumping his head into overhanging ledges that he neglects to consider.
This time? Well, I’m certain that you know how this story starts. You see, Paul Krendler…
The story you are about to read is true. It is multiply-sourced and independently verified.
A while back, my good zombie pal Morgana posted this:
A reminder that since 2009, Bill Schmalfeldt has been unable to drive because, he says, Parkinson’s had so eroded his muscle control and executive function that he could not tell the accelerator from the brake pedal. He decided that it would be a bad idea for society at large to allow Bill Schmalfeldt behind the wheel of an automobile.
Bill Schmalfeldt received information.
Bill Schmalfeldt received information from Brett Kimberlin.
Bill Schmalfeldt received information from Brett Kimberlin from a deposition.
Bill Schmalfeldt received information from Brett Kimberlin from a deposition of AyAyRon Walker.
Bill Schmalfeldt received information from Brett Kimberlin from a deposition of AyAyRon Walker about one of AyAyRon’s clients.
And just what does Bill Schmalfeldt DO with that information?
Why Bill Schmalfeldt began to ask questions as the good old #JOURMINALIST that we know and love him to be.
Can be ever so glaring.
Not that he would know anything about that, now would he?
And speaking of people who lack inhibitions regarding their piggishness. Remember these folks? Yeah, nastiness knows no boundaries. I just get tired of when the memory of it is selective.
But of course he knows that as well.
A person who has no qualms about calling women the most vile names in the book (c*nts, tw*ts, saying they have sexual diseases, etc., etc.) just because he doesn’t like what they say about him, even if it’s just repeating his own words, revels in a wanna-be politician calling a female body part it’s colloquial term while trying to puff up his sexual prowess to make up for his horrendous hair-do.
It’s just a day ending in “Y” for Bill Schmalfeldt. For me, I can’t decide if it’s because he’s jealous that Trump had the braggadocio to say it and Bill didn’t, or if he’s jealous that Trump actually had the opportunities to do such a thing, even if Trump didn’t do it and it was all puffery.
AND THEN HE DECIDES TO MEMORIALIZE IT IN SONG! (Apologies to those who actually sing, or to those who wish to keep their ears intact will more than likely be necessary if you choose to listen – I didn’t.)
Of course it practically wrote itself. This is Bill Schmalfeldt we are talking about. Most normal people wouldn’t even go there. But I repeat myself.
So today, our friend the DUMBFUCK received an unexpected gift.
I know it was unexpected because he has no friends, and no relatives who care about him enough to send him presents.
You see, about a week ago, Dave Alexander at The Artisan Craft Blog noticed something strange in a court document that DUMBFUCK had filed.
DUMBFUCK said he didn’t have sufficient information to form a belief about whether or not Brett Kimberlin is a convicted perjurer, drug dealer and perjurer currently on parole of a 50+ year prison sentence.
Kimberlin’s excellent friend says “Gosh, I have NO IDEA if that’s true or not!”
So Dave graciously sent a gift of Mark Singer’s biography of Kimberlin. The one Kimberlin cooperated with Singer in creating.
And DUMBFUCK needed to call in the HAZMAT team to clean up the mess that dropped out the legs of the pajamas he was still wearing at 11:30 AM, the lazy pig.
Truth after the jump.