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Thank you.

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (No Respond)

You know who and why.  It really meant a lot to me.  You guys are the best.

Dunno if anybody’s still reading this

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (No Respond)

But I know the people who used to read this had big hearts, and I need a few folks like that right now.

My nephew and his family are newly homeless after their trailer burned down yesterday morning in Michigan.  His wife was having surgery, so there was no one home when it happened except their cats.  But the place is a total loss – they lost it all, including all the kids’ Christmas presents and pretty much everything but the clothes on their backs.  Three of their cats are dead for sure, two are missing, and the last one’s not looking too good, so they’re completely heartbroken.

They’ve had a tough time the last few years, but my nephew finally got a good job through the union and things were starting to look up for them.  Now this.

Anyway, I know times are hard for everybody these days, but if you’ve got any to spare, they could sure use it.

http://www.gofundme.com/65lw3k

Thanks,

-real

TO THE THOUSAND OR SO SPAM-WHORES WHO’VE COME HERE TO GET EASY WP I.D.s, PAY ATTENTION, FUCKTARDS!!!

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (No Respond)

Every fucking spambot comment that you log here has been destroyed.

Every other blog/site in WordPress will filter you out and destroy your pointless, inane, horribly-written-in-third-language-English-mangling-to-the-point-of-incoherence, NOBODY’S GOING TO BUY YOUR STOOPID SHIT “messages” and “comments” and utterly malicious “links” to HELL.

NOBODY LEFT ON EARTH IS STILL STOOPID ENOUGH TO CLICK ON YOUR FUCKTARD LINKS IN THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC, HONG KONG, S.F.CA, OR WHEREVER IN THE HELL Y’ALL ARE ALL COMING FROM, AND I’VE GOT ALLLLL OF YOUR IP ADDRESSES, YOU STOOPID TWUNTS!!!!!!!

Have a fucking day, get a fucking life, and leave the rotted, fetid corpse of my blog the fuck ALONE. And for all of you sickening-search-parameter-porn-fetish-FREAKS who get here because you like to see “doctors” FUCKING THEIR PATIENTS, get even MORE of a fucking life AND GET HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What in the fuck IS IT with large chunks of India, Southern France, little blips all over S.E. Asia, and the western coasts of Africa & Mexico that y’all have these FIXATION with NOT-REAL “DOCTORS” and that particularly stoopid fetish???  Doctors, in my experience, are 99% pure fucking EEEEEVVIILLLLLLLL, and THEY should be the ones on the RECEIVING SIDE of the rogering involved, and let it be done WITH A RUSTY GIGANTIC CRESCENT WRENCH FULL OF PEELING CHROME,  HEPATITIS-INDUCING OXIDATION & SHARP EDGES!!!

You spam whores  —  can’t you get a REAL job anywhere?  Domino’s and Wally World are always hiring, and they’d be PERFECT for relentlessly-reproducing-like-roaches LITERALLY MONGOLOID fucktards like Y’ALL.

Update 072512 & AbFab comeback

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

Update 072512:  41.75 Years of Failure & an AbFab comeback

7-25-2012

10:12P

Few things send me on a depression/self-pity spiral faster than seeing another AbFab comeback, watching those two brilliant women do what only they can do, in a genre where there are no competitors or comparable “talents”  —  a genre that Jennifer Saunders & Dawn French created, and Jen & Joanna Lumley carved into the granite of the public psyche for the past 19 years.  Almost as painful as watching Tina Fey feted by the Lincoln Center, before she or I were even FORTY.  Bitches living the life that I studied for, busted my ass to earn, and have nothing to show for any of it.

A quick aside, and then a return to the nervous breakdown:  Massive and indelible thanks, gratitude & love to all of you wunnerful hoomins who have kept me alive and semi-afloat since I became a homeless person, and for many a moon before.  Scott & Mary & Sheri of World O’Crap, as well as new friend Debbi Mack, who introduced me to a whole new loverly plethora of warm, kind, magnanimous friends, to whom I still owe an assload of thank-you letters, but, like all things over the past 2 years, I have no fucking idea when I’ll catch the fuck up on THAT, either.  I suck.  How in the fuck that I have ANY friends, I have no fucking idea, especially since I haven’t been anything even REMOTELY approaching “reliable” or “true” or “compassionate” towards any of my friends, whether casual, brand-new, or long-standing and dearly-beloved  —  in the past couple of years+plus.  The more fucked-up my life becomes, whether because of bigoted persecution day-in/day-out for 5 years or 15 months, or being nearly raped by a 300+ lb. crackhead b/c the COKEHEAD EX-CONVICT @ The Mardi Gras RV Park, Campground & Red Carpet Motel-cum-whorehouse on Chef Menteur Highway (504-  ) is having yet another paranoid-schizophrenic moment and SHOVING ME OUT OF THE OFFICE @ 12A, whilst my computer, MagLite, purse, LARGE POCKET KNIFE, etc., are LOCKED INSIDE OF SAID OFFICE  —  anyway, whether I’m being discriminated against by the thug-racist-psycho-cunts of the Michaels Corporation @ Desire/”Savoy Place II” (504-940-3060), like the sociopathic stalker-freak “social worker” CUNTIE (She spells it, “Connie,” I like my version better, it suits her) or the thinks-that-we-have-a-special-“relationship” allegedly-married-to-a-“man” big ol’ bulldogger* named Beatrix, I can’t be of any practical use or help or support or encouragement or even deliver on my dearly-beloved friends’ birfdays.  Which I really really fucking hate, because atheists don’t have that many holidays, do we?  We can’t really send out assloads of Xmas prezzies, I really hate to contribute to the Black Friday consumerist-freakout-material-orgy bullshit, and even Spring Equinox celebrations are splattered by the cathlick perversion of Teh Return Of ZOMBIE JEEBUS, chocolate bunnies & marshmallow chicks.  Don’t have anything against the junk food, obviously, just the aggregation/avaricious theft of a perfectly innocent astronomical event by the masterworks/jewelry/antiques/etc.-thieving twunts @ the Vatican.  Don’t get me started on THOSE motherfuckers and what they’ve KEPT via Hitler’s “donations” from the homes of murdered Gypsies, gays/lesbians/etc. and Jews, I’ll never get back on-topic.

Where was I?  Yeah, Debbi and all of her wunnerful readers & buddies who reached-out to a total fucking stranger when I was evicted, and I’ve yet to properly thank all of them to this day.  Just please know that I’ve never forgotten, and if I can’t find Debbi’s e-mail addy to send this to, would someone please forward it to her?  She is a truly remarkable and tougher-than-a-pine-knot woman whom I do truly admire.

Then there are all of my close friends, y’all wunnerful mofos who have put up with me for months or years or decades, and still keep coming back for more of the clusterfuck that seems to approximate what’s left of my “life.”  I don’t know how y’all do it, honestly.  Or why.  As awed and knocked flat on my ass as I am by the extent of y’all’s amazing generosity, the amount, when it comes to love & intent, isn’t nearly as important as the love and faith that y’all have never ceased to shower upon me, little as I deserve it.  Going all the way back to Neal-O, whom I’ve missed terribly, despite our spats, to Officer Phil (and that’s going WAY back!); Sitara, my dear heart for lo, these many moons; Cat, the brave broad in the mountains of Colorado who’s, thankfully, dodged the wildfires this year, and a woman with FLAWLESS taste in lingerie;  Candice my semi-surrogate not-quite-“Daughter” & her fiancé’ Daniel, who put me up for over a week without bloodshed; Anthony of SmokeCignals.com, the ONLY friend in NOLA who ever showed up (And ALWAYS showed up!!) to help me move my shit into that overpriced storage unit (great people who work there, but the prices are obscene), AND who’s trying his damnedest to wean me off of real cigarettes so that, if I am ever to find a home again, I can have another pet SOMEDAY without giving it lung cancer like I did my babies, Biddy & Boy; oh, jeeebus this is just the tip of the gratitude iceberg…  Where was I?

So many people to thank, so few brain cells with which to achieve it:  Meem, the only person from UNO who still loves me & talks to me, and who paid the majority of the crematorium bill for Biddy, thankfully & despite my orders to the contrary; the now long-lost Mentis, whom I miss terribly but haven’t heard a peep from since…  February?  Many many e-mails & queries sent, but nary a quill-mark in return.  Wish I knew what went wrong, but whatever his reasons, I will always treasure the friendship that he did give me for lo, those many moons, and to the bottomless depths of his humor, as one of the few people on earth who could make me laugh until I cry when I would much rather be killing myself.  He is uniquely gifted in many ways, but that was my favorite.  The inimitable Realist, who’s reached-out to save my ass and my computers so many times, I’ve lost count, but I will never forget everything that he has gone WAY the fuck out of his way to do, to not only keep me and the tattered remnants of this blog alive, but to also be one helluva friend and the best tech support on this continent.  Another longstanding friend/damned-near-martyr (because of the hell that I’ve dragged him through with me, and his unwavering faith, trust & support of me despite all of it), Redcane  —  he doesn’t talk much in the comments, but he’s one friend that I will forever be grateful to have made  —  even if he’d never lent me a dime, his true, deep and abiding friendship & kindness would have and do mean more to me than any amount of money.  Y’all know that I can never talk realistically about money because it’s gauche and tacky and would cost me my Medicare, (though, somehow, for SOME people, they can get all of the rent paid, cash gifts, cars, etc., from relatives & friends and NOBODY ever looks at THEIR checking accounts or Social Security benefits…  *sigh*  Why wasn’t I born LUCKY, instead of…  well, not brilliant…  or beautiful…  well, why wasn’t I born lucky, instead of OBVIOUS?!??!) but there’s no way in hell than anybody could live on $697/mo. AND have to pay almost $200/mo. in rent on a storage unit where 98% of my remaining belongings have lived for four months (having lost 4/5ths of what I used to have to thieving “auctions” {IRL, not online, not that online auctions are any more legit or less rigged} over the past 9 years), plus truck insurance, utility bills that I’m 3 months behind on, ISP bills that have gotten my ISP address nullified b/c I’m so far behind, vet bills that didn’t do a damned thing to save Biddy, and a bullshit fucking camera ticket that a heartless, class-warfare midget cunt FUCKED me on @ the “administrative law judge hearing” (ever had a bitch give you that up-and-down JUDGEMENT glare whilst you’re hobbling the best you can to follow her petulant dwarf ass into her office?  Yeah, she rendered her verdict before I even caught up to her hating-on-the-amazons MUNCHKIN ass!!!) when I went to fight the fucking THIEVERY ticket that I can’t afford to pay EITHER, PLUS having to pay for either roach motels where strippers get disappeared from and then dismembered into the Gulf, or the aforementioned newly-converted-into-a-whorehouse-with-cracked-out-johns-wandering-and-window-shopping-the-SUPPOSEDLY-secured-attached-campground (and then they see my big white ass  — FIGURATIVELY, NOT NEKKIDLY!!! — in a flimsy little TENT and think that it’s OPEN SEASON!) —  I can’t detail HOW y’all have helped me here (like y’all don’t KNOW, right?), because I could not continue to breathe, walk, exist, etc., WITHOUT MY MEDICARE. No idea when or if I’ll ever be able to repay all of y’all’s kindnesses & generosity, but if that damned Powerball ever kicks-in, I’ll never have to worry about being ILLEGALLY BLACKBALLED FROM NEW ORLEANS PUBLIC/SUBSIDIZED/DISABLED HOUSING, EVER THE FUCK AGAIN!!! And y’all will all recoup your gifts, loans, food, clothing, camping gear, etc., not only in my everlasting and undying love & gratitude, but in cash with interest!  Or maybe I’ll just send everybody a really gorgeous strippergram of whatever flavor y’all prefer…  Suggestions?

And yes, I’m not even a THIRD of the way through with the gratitude, before I can get down to the nitty-gritty explanations & narratives of what my life has been like since I was thrown under the bus by THE crookedest obese cocksucker dog-fucker piece of shit who ever called himself a “lawyer,” let alone a “PRO-BONO” alleged “RESCUING PEOPLE FROM HOMELESSNESS” motherfucker from so-called “LEGAL AID” in New Orleans, if not the PLANET, back in March.  But I knew that I had to send up SOME kind of smoke signal, to let y’all know that I aten’t ded yet, though I’ve often wished that I was, to save y’all’s money from being WASTED in my dozens of futile attempts to find housing in Orleans Parish again (little did I know that the thug-slumlord fucking whores GOSSIP and LIE about a bitch to keep her out of ALL fucking housing, even when it’s not even THEIR CORPORATION anymore!!!  I’ve been fucked-over by slumlords before, and I’ve been blackballed from commercial radio and substitute teaching before {how DARE I be a feminist AND an atheist!!!}, but I never thought that the daily-law-breaking, asses-the-size-of-my-TRUCK, racist, class-warfare, drug-dealer-protecting SCUMSUCKING BITCHES could PREVENT ME FROM EVER GETTING A PLACE TO LIVE, EVER THE FUCK AGAIN!!!!!), AND to escape the humiliations of being an instantly-loathed-by-all-who-see-me homeless white bitch in Orleans Parish or any other parish or nearby county, toofless meth-whore-looking ol’ skank-resembling (‘member when y’all bent over backwards to get me that three-toof partial?  Yeah, it knocked-out all of my OTHER teef, which were already destroyed on the inside from FOURTEEN YEARS OFF & ON FUCKING NARCOTIC PAINKILLERS!!), hoopty-driving-with-the-Clampetts’-style-truck-bed-wif-2%-of-my-earthly-possessions, pathetic old failure with a college degree, who can’t even put a fucking roof over my own head anymore, and there doesn’t appear to be any agency, private, public, municipal, state or federal, that wants to help me FIND another apartment, ever the fuck again.  It’s not just humiliating that I’ve had to beg from my truly-treasured friends, as well as casual acquaintances and total strangers, just to stay alive (‘cause that Mardi Gras Campground/RV Park nearly got me DEAD!) AND to not have to come to the Fallen Uterus for help, seeing as how her oh-so-perfect son, the dog-serial-killing, baby-raping, cokehead cocksucking psychotic midget motherfucker lives, rent-free, satellite-TV-free, utilities-free, in that death cottage that they slapped together when they stole Nannie’s house from her and kept the fucking proceeds of the sale  — and the same “cottage” where Moose Knuckle, the freak who molested HIM before he turned his “talents” upon ME, got THREE FREE YEARS of residence, but when *I* got MY disability settlement, all SIX GRAND of it, my dear darling parents took HALF of it for “BACK RENT.”  Seems fair, right? Anyway, the aforementioned junkie child-abandoning rapist/dog-slaughterer thinks that he OWNS these 3.9 acres already, and that “Nannie’s” death cottage is HIS PROPERTY, and oh, yeah, he’s threatened my life three times already this year, brandishing the oh-so-fearful CHEAP CHINESE BOX-CUTTER that my mother SWEARS that she never saw and was in too much “shock” to tell that animal to get the fuck away from me and/or to stop frothing at the mouth with his sickeningly-detailed perverted fantasies about me fucking black men BEHIND A CONVENIENCE STORE, as well as to stop threatening to kill me right the fuck IN FRONT OF HER.  She was in “too much shock.”  Riiiiiight. And if the fucktard throwback couldn’t-pass-seventh-OR-eleventh-grades SHORT-BUS MOTHERFUCKER ever huffs enough spray paint or drinks enough pussified Jack Daniel’s or whatever it is that makes him think that he’s an actual “man,” when we all know better than that  —  or, with all the money he saves on rent, utilities, etc., he can afford a sizeable portion of crack or cocaine  —  and ever DOES try to make “good” on his death threats (and remind me to tell y’all about the 50+-year-old fucktard in NOLA who fancies himself “in the mafia” who stole all my pain meds and still texts me death threats on my “free” cellphone…) and actually MAKES an attempt on my life?

She’ll be in “too much shock” for her many handguns to be of any use to ME, I feel sure.  See why I believe in MagLites and big pocketknives?  ‘Cause if you can’t even count on your own MAMA to back you up and/or defend you (even at the age of TWENTY MONTHS OLD, when she handed me OVER TO HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE), when the shit hits the fan, you’d damned well better be packing SOMETHING.  I was SUPPOSED to inherit Teh Dick’s .357 magnum revolver (along with his pocketknife/Case knife AND his saddle, neither of which I will ever see again!), so that I’d have SOME feasible self-defense if I wind-up in another campground or homeless shelter or if that dog-slaughtering midget chupacabra comes all 50 yards over here to do me harm, but, of course, before Teh Dick’s ashes were even cold, she’d secretly stolen & given it to Psycho-Cunt, who’d lied about no longer HAVING any firearms up in Montana, b/c of HER shitty taste in male companions.  That gun-nut republiCUNT hasn’t been without a firearm since she was 17 years old, she sure as FUCK didn’t let ANY motherfucker make off with her handguns a little over 2 years ago.  Sorry to keep digressing, it’s late and I’m dain-bramaged as usual.  Two more very important thanks (not that the people whom I haven’t thanked yet AREN’T important, I just can’t find 2 brain cells to rub together tonight to fit everybody into ONE post, so I hope that y’all can be patient with me  —  okay, even MORE patient than usual  — and allow me to try and do it properly in the next post!) before I shut the fuck up for now:  Terrible, my long-standing and ever-reliable buddy up in TRUE yankee country, the man who provides me with the best summer sausage I’ve ever had (ONE dirty joke outta that, and you’re ALL getting an ass-whuppin’, and NO, you will NOT enjoy it!), even as much as I love the Ohio summer sausage shared so many times by Maria of Maumee, Terrible sends me mosquito netting for hurricane season, survival gear for year ‘round, and money that he oughta be keeping for himself (like so many of y’all!), and has for many, MANY moons, and no expression of gratitude would be even remotely close to accurate without him.  Also, a newer member of my nationwide/4-countries-wide family, but a dear and loving friend like no other, the inimitable KWillow, a woman whose generosity knows no bounds, even as she is being driven past the point of normal human patience by everyone around her.  If I can ever FIND an apartment complex that will LET ME IN, she will be the main reason that I’ll be able to make the majority of that deposit and first & last months’ rent.  For someone who only knows me BECAUSE of my online begging/loserdom, she has been a remarkable friend, a warm and kind shoulder upon which I can always lean and/or cry, and a steadfast source of encouragement and aid.  And yes, there are a couple dozen more of you wonderful human beings whom I haven’t thanked yet, but I promise, the next post will be way more about Y’ALL, and way the hell less about my whining, bitching, moaning & complaining, though I’ll try to keep it interesting with a few snippets of the obscenely-ridiculous, hardly-believable-EXCEPT-in-Louisiana-and-or-Texas adventures of my homeless months.

I love and thank you all, from the very bottom of my charred, scarred, gnarled & burnt-to-a-crisp, lump-of-coal-looking excuse for a “heart.”  It ain’t much, but it’s all that I’ve got to share with y’all right now, so I hope that it will at least amuse, if not suffice.

*I know that, to some people, “bulldogger” is a slur against butch lesbians, but in this instance, as with my former usage of the phrase, “mongoloid fucktards,” it is NOT intended as an insult to lesbians of any description, any more than I expected ANYBODY to acquaint the word “mongoloid” with children & adults with Down’s Syndrome.  The word “mongoloid” was so antiquated and associated with severely-fucktarded “medical” jingo from the uber-Freudian days of psychiatric quackery, I never thought that ANYONE would actually, truly associate it with modern-day Down’s people. As with the word, “fucktard,” which, as I noted at the time that I began using it, I’d stolen it from the night shift @ Long Beach Memorial Hospital in Cali, I never intended it to re-invigorate or renew interest in the slur, “retard” whatsoever, though there are some people who blame me for the resurgence of that slur against developmentally-disabled kids and adults.  Really.  Like I’ve ever been read THAT much, or like anybody’s EVER paid THAT much attention to ANYTHING that I’ve ever said.  But back to “bulldogger”  —  in this instance, the bitch that it describes is a big, fat, wasted-Amazon-architecture-on-a-two-legged-bigot-SHIT Neanderthal who uses her job as a WEAPON OF BIGOTRY, bullying, theft and every other fucking federal discrimination & housing law that she breaks on a daily basis.  She doesn’t deserve her job, she’s never EARNED her job, and undoubtedly did something highly illegal to GET her job.  She is a BEAST, not a human being, a hate-mongering, stereotype-encouraging, racist sociopath STALKER who makes Refrigerator Perry look lithe and graceful.  The so-called “social worker” is a short, unattractive bitch with overdyed hair & obvious inferiority issues, since nobody will TRUST her to actually BE a social worker, so she fills some bullshit made-up position for a multinational carpetbagging corporation, and tries to pry personal information out of the residents so that she can use it against them and provide GOSSIP FODDER for the illiterates, drug-dealers, hookers, psychotics, and professional breeders who will NEVER be evicted from that Michaels Corporation housing project.

Annti’s Bellsouth addy started bouncing yesterday

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

The error message says the mailbox has been suspended.  If anybody hears anything and wants to share, please send to real at seditious dot org and I’ll post it here.

Annti, I’m going to go ahead and disable notifications to your Bellsouth mailbox.  Drop me a line or give me a call whenever you need them turned back on.

Does our kitty only have eight left now?

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (3 Responds)
Had the damnedest thing happen Sunday evening. We have a cat who’s getting up there – she was born the end of 1995, so she’s coming up on 18. She’s a cute little thing – a gray-colored (very) muted tortie who looks like a little gray kitty with white face, belly and boots at first glance. She’s always been a runt and is small and kitten-ish, with facial markings that give her a perpetually surprised look. We call her Mouse.

Anyway, I went to feed her that evening and she was out cold on the floor by the sofa. She’s pretty deaf these days, so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond to my voice. I bent down and jiggled the corner of her pillow, which has always worked in the past to wake her. She kind of twitched once, then didn’t move. She was breathing, but it looked pretty shallow. So I reached out and touched her – ALWAYS guaranteed to wake her up. Nothing. I touched her again, pushing a little. Still nothing. Now I’m starting to get worried. I rub her side, ruffling her fur – she hates that; surely that will wake her.  She doesn’t respond.

My wife is in the front bedroom at her computer when I walk in and tell her I’m afraid there’s something wrong with Mouse. It’s not totally unexpected – 17 is pretty old for a cat. But when she says, “Oh, no!” I lose it and start bawling. I’m standing there crying my eyes out with a dish of catfood in my hand as she walks into the living room, bends down, and speaks gently to Mouse.  Nothing.  Touches her: still nothing.  I cry even harder.

She reaches out and kind of shakes Mouse, who jumps up, bounds up onto the arm of the sofa with a brief glance at me like “What’s his problem?” and begins meowing for her dinner.

I don’t have to tell you how stupid I felt at that point. “But . . . but . . . she wouldn’t wake up!  I touched her.  She always jumps when I touch her when she’s asleep! She . . . she . . .”

“Well, I’m just glad she’s OK!” my wife replied.

Me too.

Dammit all to hell

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (3 Responds)

Old friends and new, lurkers and IRL, NOW the motherfuckers have taken everything from me.  As of about 6:45 this morning, my Biddy left me.

I was on here, TRYING to catch-up on the weeks-behind thank-yous to all of the good people, old & new, who’ve been helping me survive this most-illegal bullshit eviction on fucking earth, and she crept back into the bathroom, her “sauna” with the humidifier and her food & water, where she tended to stay when she wasn’t with me…  And at 7A, I went to get her and take her outside to graze like we did every morning that I could get up or had stayed up (and if I couldn’t get up with the sun, she still went outside to graze and be a cat), and, far too much like Janis Joplin, there she was, limp, alone, and in a pool of her own sick.  She always did still consider herself a “feral” cat, every bit as skittish, sometimes a little paranoid, and since we lost her brother in September, very solitary, when she wasn’t lying on me, walking across my bladder or worse parts if she thought that I’d “overslept,” or snuggled in the spot where my butt had been in the bed, her favorite, warmest place to sleep.  I was in here, sitting on my ass, on the fucking computer, and not 30 feet away, she was dying in the bathroom, alone.  Why they do that, I’ll never understand, but it’s what they do, and even though her eyes hadn’t switched to that reflective-cornea flatness that most recently-deceased animals show, and she seemed to be STARING AT ME, she was gone, her lungs wouldn’t take any air, she was cooling off and she was limp as a rag doll.

I’m sorry to relate every disturbing detail about her death, if it upsets y’all, I’m very sorry, and I don’t mean to offend anybody with this, but dammit, she was my KIN, my FAMILY, and even though I didn’t find out about her lung cancer and blown-out colon until, what?  A couple of months ago, if that long?  —  I never thought that she’d leave this soon.  Obviously, she’d been suffering silently longer than I knew, and I was too wrapped-up in my own lame bullshit to have taken proper care of her.  I smoked around her and her brother for over 14 years, and their lungs aren’t even a tenth of my sarcoid-ridden lung capacity.  Not making a moral statement about smoking, just saying that I’m what killed the two creatures on this earth, the two PEOPLE on this earth who loved me more than anybody other than my Nannie and my late nephew Tater.  She and I were still mourning Bubbe Boy, I still expected to hear his collar jingle follow hers, every time she came up around my chair for attention, treats, or to announce that Her Majesty was hungry.  I just hope that, wherever they are in the universe, that they are together again.  She missed him and she needed him as much as he did her, so if there is ANY justice in this fucktarded excuse of an existence, they are together, curled-up like commas and snoring.

The truly morbid part is that my baby, that warm, overly-furred part-Maine-Coon little cat, is in a plastic bag in the freezer, until I can find a place to have her cremated tomorrow.  The most recent vet she’d been to, the most overpriced flake I’ve ever met in my life, will probably want $300 for it, but that ain’t gonna happen.   If the SPCA offers cremation services, we’ll cross the river to Algiers (and yes, those specific rednecks skeer the fuck outta me, but at least, hopefully, the SPCA, will still have the same cool people that they had when they spayed Biddy, lo, those many moons ago), as they’re usually the most-affordable option.  I thought, in my stressed-out stoopidity, that I’d have at least another couple of months with her, that we’d have time to find a new place to live and that she wouldn’t have to spend too much time outdoors after we leave here in a week.  I don’t know how to go through the next day of my life without her, she was my clock, that other little heartbeat in the house that made even this hellhole seem like a house, if not a home.  She was the boss, even if I never did anything well enough to save her life.  Healthy, well-cared-for cats can live to be 20 or 25, I’ve seen it.  I’ve also seen 18-year-old cats who were suffering through existence simply because people couldn’t let them go.  I would never have subjected her to chemo or radiation or surgery, she was in no shape to suffer through that torture or to survive it, and having watched Papa and Nannie die of cancer, there was no way in hell that I’d do that to Biddy.  Couldn’t do shit right to save them EITHER.

Just wanted to let y’all know, as y’all are, aside from my “surrogate daughter” in Texas and, when I can find him again, my friend Anthony, y’all are my family, and most of y’all have been here for me when no other humans have, from before we lost Nannie, even, through losing Tater, losing the house, Daddy dying, being knifed in the back by ungrateful spawn of inbred mouth-breathers whom I’d wasted 26 years of my life on, so that their lies could KILL my father, all of the horrible shit in my life, so much of it brought on my by own stupid decisions, y’all have been here, y’all have cared, y’all have helped, and y’all have never wavered in your amazing capacity to love such a fucktard as myself.  So thank you, a million times over, thank you.  I don’t have an e-mail address for Debbi (see World O’Crap to learn about her book & her huge heart), but somebody also please tell her for me, okay?  I am fortunate enough to have that surrogate daughter and her fiance’ coming down here to help me gather-up the rest of my shit, as much as they are physically able (Candice was born with more fucked-up skeletal shit & arthritic shit than I will EVER see!), all the better to keep my belongings and remnants of loved ones past out of the hands of deputies, constables and the racist scumsuckers who’ve illegally deprived me of allegedly-federally-mandated housing.

Thank you all for being my friends, and for listening to my whining and bitching yet again.  AT&T are being uber-pricks, as is the “free” celly from Richard fucking Branson, about my being able to keep internet access whilst between addresses, so I may have to camp-out in the hipsterville area of the 8th Ward to be near the library hotspot, but I will stay in touch, I promise.  No need to worry about me, anyway, I couldn’t get off of this planet with a towel and a Hitchhiker’s Guide glued to my forehead.  But there’s no way in hell, even if I had the money, that I’d fork-out ninety bucks for an outmoded-by-six-years “wifi card” PLUS fifteen-bucks-a-day fees from that piece-of-shit “wireless store” at Wally World, who seem to be WAY the fuck behind the shit that AT&T allegedly offers for short-term/no-physical-addy wifi.  It’s just fucktarded cubed.  I’ll figure this shit out, as soon as I can wrap my dessicated brain around it.

I love y’all.
–Annti

General Martin Dempsey Fighting to Keep the Drug War Going

Posted by Terrible under Uncategorized (No Respond)

What this is actually about is regime change for the Central and South American leaders who want to legalize drugs to put the cartels out of business. No way US ‘conservatives’ are going let those sweet profitable cartels get shut down. At least not the ones they control. Get ready to watch our tax dollars go to work increasing profits for some drug cartels, increasing profits for some ‘defense’ contractors, increasing kickbacks for some ‘politicians’, increase profits for some wall street bankers, wipe out a few rival drug cartels, kill lots of innocent bystanders and keep the drugs flowing full bore. Ain’t it great to be a US taxpayer and help make all that happen?

http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2012/03/30/general-u-s-may-export-terror-war-tactics-to-fight-drug-gangs/

I couldn’t stand it any more

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (1 Respond)

…if only they could SPELL!!!!!!!!!

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (No Respond)

RIP

Posted by Realist under Uncategorized (No Respond)

May You Rest in Peace Jada

Posted by Terrible under Uncategorized (No Respond)

Those of us who know Annti know how much she cared about Jada and how she felt about her never having a chance for a wonderful happy life. And our hearts and thoughts go out to her. If there is a souls journey after death may Jada’s soul have that childhood she never had the chance for here.

Annti is experiencing technical difficulties

Posted by Realist under Admin (No Respond)

She wanted everyone to know that Jada isn’t hurting anymore.

You can reach her by phone if you have her number.  She’s not able to access e-mail at the moment.

R.I.P., Manchester Midget

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

I know that I’ve rarely mentioned it online, it’s not exactly from a “cool” phase of my life, but back when I was a 300-lb. 18 & 19-year-old dork with no friends (a few class “buds” @ that useless party-school “university,” but no one truly close, at least not anybody who’d be seen with me out in public…), I was a fanatical follower of the reunion tours & VH1 reruns of the original sit-com of The Monkees. When I was 3 & 4 years old, I distinctly remember watching those reruns (not many details, except that Moose Knuckle & Psycho-Cunt were INSANELY besotted with Daaaaaavyyyyy, and that it always pissed me off that they {producers/writers/etc.} always made Peter play “The Dummy”) with said felonious so-called “sisters” every afternoon when they got home from elementary school.

I missed the FIRST reunion tours, in ’86 & ’87, having just nearly died because of those cut brakes, having to acclimate to having lost 40 IQ points or more from the same wreck/closed-head injury, and finding something akin to a similar “soul” in Sam Kinison’s bitterness about “the church,” as I was coming out of that cult myself at the same time.  So the Monkees’ original reunions, including the shows graced by the presence of Himself, that “xian scientist” freak who nearly murdered his first wife (he was my other Favorite, until a certain Joanne on FaceBook told me the very bad shit that Maggie MacManus covered-up SO fucking well for 30-some-odd years…  *sigh*), the Texan (and aren’t they always so VOCAL about where they’re from?!?!?) who got the lion’s share of the publishing rights to their songs, aside from Boyce & Hart and Neil Diamond, those tours, I missed.  I did later get to see a xeroxed copy of Peter’s infamous Red Speedo picture (some chick climbed over the fence @ his hotel pool in ’88 or ’89, something that even I wouldn’t do! –  and got a VERY revealing photo), but that’s all I know from those tours, except that my fat ass SHOULD have been at the Greek Theatre in L.A. when Himself deigned to bless them all with His presence.  Bitter?  Moi?  Blame it on Joanne. I coulda lived my whole life without that information.

But as I’m sure that all of y’all well know, it’s the baby of the group who dropped dead, suddenly and bizarrely on Leap Day, Feb. 29th, at his home in Florida (retaining political commentary about THAT until later).  For some fucked-up reason, every MSM/news outlet on earth is giving his age as SIXTY-SIX, which is horseshit, because he was THREE MONTHS YOUNGER THAN THE FALLEN UTERUS, who was born in 1946. He was 65. Unless, of course, he, Micky, Peter, Columbia, Screen Gems, Sony et al., have been lying this whole fucking time.  Wouldn’t surprise me, but the sudden revelation of his alleged “true” age now is beyond hinky.  Sorry that I can’t remember his exact birth date (he & Mike are both December births, one of them was on Xmas day, but I can’t recall at the moment which one was the xmas baby), but I do remember the year.  Peter’s 70, Mike will be in December, and Micky’s 68.

Davy was never my favorite, but he was a huge part of the group and of its success, and for the show, as well, obviously.  My condolences to his ex-wives, his new wife, and his many children, and especially to Peter & Micky.  I couldn’t prove it in court, but I think that Peter & Davy were the only ones of the group who maintained life-long true friendships, even after Peter was the first one to tell Screen Gems to go fuck itself after the second season.

I almost made the mistake of linking to a TMZ online post about Davy, until I found their recent post of THE MOTHERFUCKING 911 CALL WHEN HE WAS HAVING THE FUCKING HEART ATTACK. I’ve always loathed that midget shyster/shylock piece of shit Harvey Levin, but now I despise him to the 800th power.  It was pretty fucking horrific that he posted Rihanna’s evidenciary photos from when that closet-case Chris Brown beat the fuck out of her, but at least THAT served some sort of PURPOSE and showed the world that it wasn’t just “some bitch trying to ruin a MAN’S career,” as many said at the time. 

TO OBTAIN AND FLOUT THE 911 CALL OF DAVY DYING OF A FUCKING HEART ATTACK SERVES NO FUCKING PURPOSE EXCEPT TO MAKE EVEN MORE FUCKING MONEY FOR HARVEY SOULLESS-COCKSUCKING-HYPOCRITE-PSEUDO-VEGAN, PETA-SUCKLING COCKBITE LEVIN, LIKE HE FUCKING NEEDS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck you Harvey Levin, sideways with a rusty chainsaw, and no, standing on a box to see over the cubicle walls won’t protect you from it.

You just don’t do that shit to a dead man AND his grieving family & friends, you piece of shit.

And thusly I conclude this shoulda-been-a-tribute, but greedy motherfuckers hadda fuck THAT up, too.  The only consolation in all of this is that Antenna TV (yes, another SONY holding, like CBS, Columbia, Screen Gems, Infinity Radio, etc.), who have been MUTILATING the sitcom reruns (they cut off all of the outtakes & backstage interviews that were originally part of most episodes; Sony isn’t making ENOUGH money off of ‘em, they gotta kill the real-life shit to squeeze-in MORE fucking commercials for DEATH INSURANCE!!!!!!), recently (about a month ago) hired the best-ever “Voice Guy,” as in “THE Voice” for hundreds of radio stations & TV stations all over the fucking world, John Wells, who was The Voice @ my 1st radio station.  I’m still pissed that Ferguson got rid of John and hired fuckin’ Shadoe instead, but such is life.  Anyway, for the episodic marathon of Monkees shows all day today, tonight and undoubtedly the rest of Sunday, it’s John Wells paying tribute to Davy on the “station ID” breaks and segues from commercials to episodes.  I can’t imagine a more comforting voice than the biggest pipes to ever grace the Metroplex.  I still miss talking to his mama on the phone, she always wanted me to come to Dallas and go to work for John, but John didn’t appear to share that concept.  I’ll still always love that voice, though.  I was the first person on that first station to have my own John Wells-voiced sweeper (his engineers had a blast with it, too!), and I’ll always be damned proud of that.

But Davy, Manchester Midget, and the poor man who was accosted by a 5’9.5″, 300-lb. sweaty woman in a “Save The Texas Prairie Chicken” t-shirt and still TRIED not to look terrified in the picture, you will be missed.  And if Julie Newmar & Ursula Andress are still alive, they’d damned well better be at the fuckin’ funeral!

(I tried to find said picture on this computer, couldn’t, but if any of y’all have copies of it, please e-mail it to me, please?)

EDIT: Skip that link up top, (“Daaaavyyyyy”), those Canadian fetuses TOTALLY fucked-up every “fact” and date in the entire article.  Fuck, they’ve been around for 46 fucking years, couldn’t the MSM get this shit straight FINALLY?!?!?!!?

This is how you KNOW that you are fucking LOVED!!!

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (No Respond)

I shoulda done done this several days ago, but I’m an idiot.

I didn’t even have to ASK him to do it, but Scott of World O’Crap leapt into the fray nonetheless, and wrote a fundraising emergency post for me on WO’C that damned near ripped my heart out, it was so kind, so loving, so generous, so way-too-fucking-good-for-me, I did actually cry, as pathetic as that is.  I know, I’m a flying-cockaroach trainwreck excuse for a “grown-up,” but fuck, when your whole life is in the shitter and going downhill from THERE, and then somebody whom you respect and adore goes and puts shit like THIS up on teh innernets for you, how the hell would YOU react?

I’m not posting this to do more begging, I’m posting it because I am so damned proud to have friends like the family that I have @ WO’C, and even more proud to have a friend like Scott, who would weave a tapestry of words like this together just for my old useless ass. GO READ IT, DAMMIT, it’s fucking BEAUTIFUL.

And Moondoggie even reached-out, well, through the innernet toobs, anyway, to hug me and everybody else @ WO’C, in THE cutest picture he may have ever been in, so that’s EXTRA LOVE POINTS right there!!!  I do adore that big ginger goober.  I am in awe of his flatmate/dominatrix Riley, she is one of the few cats on earth as badassed as Biddy, but Moonie, like the FIRST Moonie, aka drummer for the Who, is nothing but funny, unconscious adorability, furry love and goofy as hell.

Pickup Truck Rescue Missions + MOB mob: please forgive me for a mass mail-out…

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (3 Responds)

(For those of you who didn’t know me back in ’05 during the Katrina-evacuee-helping & animal-rescue-helping missions, the Hurricane Gustav waste of a good spine, the feral cat TNR/trap-neuter-release/rescue/relocate/rehabilitate work w/Cat Haven & my poor ol’ truck, etc., this group name refers to the amazingly-generous, huge-hearted folk who jumped-in with both feet to help me pick up the ball that EVERYBODY ELSE FUCKING DROPPED, when those who SHOULD have been rescuing human and critter alike DIDN’T DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS, especially those on the public payroll  —  when shit needed doing, these are the people, like all of you, who helped me GET SHIT DONE. Without them, and without you, none of my little ol’ “good works” could EVER have been possible, and y’all have helped a LOT of people and saved a LOT of animals, which is why we’ve gotten to become friends.)

This is an (attempted to be) “abridged” version of a letter that I just sent to my dearly-beloved friend Maria.  I’m sorry to dump this shit on y’all as a Cliff’s Notes mass-mail, I know how insulting that it must seem to y’all, WAY the fuck worse than those xmas “newsy” letters that people send out at random to brag about their accomplishments/their marriages failing, every fucking year, complete with full-color pictures, etc.  If anybody amongst the troupe sends out the GOOD xmas letters, please do not think that I’m insulting Y’ALL, ’cause none of MY friends are douchebags who send the SHITTY letters out. I can’t say or do ANYTHING right right now, like THAT’S new, but way moreso tonight, as of the news that I received as of 5P-ish, CST.  Just want y’all to stay updated on what’s going on, including the guy who’s SUPPOSED to show up for me to pay him not nearly enough to help me load & unload the truck @ the storage unit starting tomorrow, from ANOTHER letter, to another dearly-beloved, our very own fabulous author, Scott of Wo’C.

None of this makes ANY fucking sense, I know, just please try to digest it, because I don’t want anybody feeling left-out, especially if I am offline for any period of time and can’t tell y’all why or what’s going on.  I know, I sound like I’m becoming a mule for cocaine dealers or somesuch, but nope, nothing so “glamorous” for this broad. And yes, there are BILLIONS of real people, all over this town, this state, this country, this planet, who have it WAY the fuck worse than I do, to the forty-second power at the very least. I’m not trying to be the center of the universe (believe it or not), esp. since it has no center.  I just want y’all to know that this shit got a WHOLE lot worse, SUDDENLY and with NO WARNING, and that I’m homeless in TWELVE DAYS, instead of TWO OR THREE MONTHS.

I love you all and am so grateful that y’all are strong, brave, kind, and loving enough to be MY friends.

XOXOXO
Joanna/Annti

——– Original Message to Maria ——–

(I wish that I could call you right now, but I’m such a fucking trainwreck, and my blood pressure is spiking so fast and so high, you do NOT wanna deal with THAT big hot mess.) Not like you’ve never heard me cry and freak out and whine like a little bitch before, but right now, I’m actually fucking TERRIFIED, and you KNOW how much I fucking fucking fucking HATE HATE FUCKING HATE fear.

Stupid moron bitch “tenant liason” bitch has been telling me ever since I got the eviction notice on Feb. 6th, that I should NOT rent a storage unit, that I should NOT move any of my things/boxed-up belongings/furniture/ANYTHING out of this apartment, that I WOULD be squatting here for the TWO TO THREE FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE FUCKING MONTHS THAT IT WILL TAKE FOR QUADEL/START CORP (The lying heartless bitches who were supposed to PROTECT me from the racist discrimination, from the threats and attempted intimidation, the endless harassment, the actual PHYSICAL ASSAULTS by the junkie/hooker/crackhead/schizophrenic grab-bag of lowlifes all around me, the EVERYTHING ILLEGAL THAT’S BEEN DONE TO ME, BUT THEY NEVER ONCE FUCKING DID!!!) TO GET ME NEW HOUSING, and that QUADEL WOULD CONTINUE TO PAY THEIR SUBSIDY TO THE OWNERS/MANAGEMENT CORP, MICHAELS CORPORATION OF NEW FUCKING JERSEY, THE WHOLE TIME THAT I’M HERE SQUATTING, WAITING FOR THAT NEW APARTMENT.

Annnnnddd THEN, about an hour ago {EDIT:  Now FOUR hours ago}, I find out that NONE OF WHAT SHE SAID IS FUCKING TRUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Instead of the 2-3 months to get my shit into the storage unit which is too small and too expensive, I now have TWELVE MOTHERFUCKING OUTRAGEOUS COCKSUCKING DOG-FUCKING DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And I can’t even get a decent-sized dose of valium to keep my b/p from getting high enough to kill me.  Teh Dick was SUPPOSED to be 70 today, if he hadn’t pussied-out and died on PURPOSE (yes, actual medical & verbal explanations, long story)…  {Redacted for y’all’s benefit, ’cause most of y’all have heard all of that shit before, over and over again, how I haven’t been able to believe the fallacy that I have “nieces” or a “nephew,” [the YOUNGER, surviving "nephew," Tater was the only one who EVER appreciated anything or who ever really loved me/wanted me to be a part of his life] or that they ever loved or appreciated me, or that I’ll ever see my great-nieces & great-nephews again, for four years now;  they broke Teh Dick’s ‘heart’ by lying about me, got me “disowned,” etc., and were lying to cover THEIR felonies, etc., and HE wound-up dead.}

I may use this (my part here, none of your information or writing) as a form letter to mass-mail to my e-mail/online/IRL friends, just to give them the Cliff’s Notes of the sudden horrible news, I hope that it won’t offend you that I’ll be kinda Ccing it to others.  I just can’t tell this story over and over and over afcukinggain.  My body is twitching all over (no P/T in a week+) and my brain is a brick.

Sorry to dump all of this on  you, darlin’ heart, but that, as Cronkite would say, is the way it is.  I’ll probably have a P.O. box on the first, but won’t be able to have a home-healthcare aide again (the last one, a pure-hate midget bitch who treated me like a fucking MANGY DOG and tried to fucking KILL ME BY ATTEMPTING TO WRECK MY MOTHERFUCKING TRUCK WITH ME IN IT!!!!) until I can move into an actual shelter or apartment.  Dunno when the phone will be disconnected, but I’m going to pay to keep my Bellsucks address open and be able to use WiFi when I can find a hotspot. And no, those “free” phones for po’ folks aren’t possible, because they’re a fucking THIEVING SCAM to get ILLEGAL ACCESS TO MY CHECKING ACCOUNT, because they don’t tell you HOW MANY MINUTES YOU GET EACH MONTH, but they will DUN YOU THROUGH AUTOMATIC-ACCOUNT-BILLING WITHOUT YOUR PRIOR KNOWLEDGE OR CONSENT.  That’s why I don’t have a cell. A “throw-away” phone may be possible at some point in the future, and if it is, I will call you as soon as I can get one.  No pity or help whatsofuckingever from the F.U., just another fucking bitch-fight from her when I call her with this news.  Yup, there’s “family” for you. 

Most of all, I want you to be a witness to the fact that I have legally, through the USPS, invalidated my last registered-with-the-state living will/durable power-of-attorney/jury-rigged and/or half-assed “will” that I included with the living will. Ain’t perfectly legal, but it’s a state document.  ALL OF IT IS IS NOW INVALIDATED. ***NONE*** of my so-called “relatives” are to have ANYTHING to do with my living will, my organ donations, my durable power of attorney, my property & any cash, NOTHING except that the F.U. is supposed to get custody of Biddy, as there’s nobody else nearby to do it. I just hope, that if anything adverse actually DOES happen to me personally, like the most-likely-hypochondria-thinking possibility of a heart attack or stroke, that she’ll keep Her dog-fucking, dog-torturing, dog-beating, dog-EVISCERATING, dog-MURDERING retard flunky inbred no-neck neo-nazi-wannabe MASSAH, aka The Son King, WAY the fuck away from Biddy.  PERMANENTLY.  Other than that, Candice, who “adopted” me as her surrogate “not-tha-mama” ‘mother’ back when she was in 7th grade (she’s TWENTY-ONE AND ENGAGED NOW!!!!), is the ONLY PERSON LEGALLY ALLOWED TO HAVE ACCESS/RIGHT TO DISPOSITION OF/TO MY PROPERTY, POSSESSIONS, WRITINGS, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, ETC., AND ONLY SHE HAS MY DURABLE POWER OF ATTORNEY, CONTROL OVER/INTERPRETATION OF MY LIVING WILL, or any other medical/postmortem decisions about my corpse/organ donations/cremation, should anything happen to me after I am evicted from here on March 6th, 2012, as unlikely as such an event may be.
I know how negative, alarmist and ridiculous that it sounds to “publish” this to all of my online family, my REAL family, at a time like this, but you KNOW the nightmares that I have endured at the hands of the medical industry, and that if anything CAN go wrong, it WILL go wrong, and it will happen to ME.  And no one will ever be punished for any of it.  I’m a permanent take-yer-best-shot get-outta-jail-free card, even though only one cocksucker who’s harmed me has EVER seen the inside of ANY jail for it.

I’m hoping that, failing everything else, which, thus far, is just what’s happened, I can get a KOA camping/parking space somewhere nearby and can make a “tent” out of the tarp for me & Biddy.  Whatever the arrangements, you’ll be the first to know.  I’d rather be downtown at that RV park next to the interstate, but they don’t allow homeless bums like me to “camp” there, vehicle or not.

Again, I am so sorry to be dumping all of this shit on you right now, but I just found out that I have less than 12 days left indoors, about two hours ago. I can’t even process it yet.  Yes, I’ve been homeless before, but I eventually found a livable (no electricity except when borrowed from next door, no hot water & no baths except when neighbors would let me bathe at their places, no food that couldn’t be kept in an ice chest, 8 kazillion 5-pounds-each flying cockaroaches the size of my palm, etc.) squat. I don’t know how to do that anymore, and don’t have anyone or any organization or what-have-you who could hook me up.  I would give anything to be 23-26 again, and to have that energy, relatively “good” health, and the chance to do it all over again and BETTER, but such is life.  If my Nannie hadn’t died, if Tater hadn’t died, if Teh Dick hadn’t died, etc.  If the three people that I trusted the most in my life in 1993-95 hadn’t all treated me like a moron and lied to my face.  If I weren’t so fucking hyperlexic fucktarded.  So forth.

XOXOXO
Love,
J

To Scott:

Reason I’m freaking to YOU, in particular:  Instead of 2-3 months of “squatting” here in the apartment until Quadel/Start Corp finds me another apartment, I am actually EVICTED, yes, in the REAL WORLD version of the word, on March 6th, and have to have all of my shit into a storage unit in LESS THAN TWELVE FUCKING DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously.  I can cover the first month of the storage unit, until I get paid on the first, but I’ve only been able to find ONE guy who “most likely” will show up to help me load & unload the truck a couple times a night, though he refuses to tell me how much he wants in cash for the work, or if he definitely can do it or not or when.  And as he plays phone-tag games when he’s not even AT WORK, I have a filthy suspicion that he thinks that I’ll be “paying” him with pussy (yeah, I know, an egotistical assumption for a toofless meth-whore looking slob, but worse-looking/unemployed/cracked-out guys STILL hit on me, gross as I am, and so do cute European boys with bright blue eyes… until they see all of the broken-off toof stubs, anyway), and THAT.  AIN’T.  IT. His name, btw, is Dwight *****, in case I show up missing at some point between here and the storage unit joint.  About 6’2.5″, maybe 170 lbs., short-cropped hair, medium-brown “black” complexion, rangy and bony, nice smile, but evasive eyes.  Works at (cheap store in the neighborhood), right around the block from the apartment.

Never given out a BOLO description of anyone who’s ever helped me move before, no matter who they were or how I knew them, but I just met this guy a couple days ago at DG and he SEEMED all nice & respectful THEN, but on the phone, I don’t altogether trust him. I’m hardly the expert on understanding human beings, let alone reading their squirrelly little brains, but I’m getting a bad/negative (as opposed to bad/”dangerous”) vibe from him, which reminds me a lot of other guys in my past, and not GOOD guys.  I do NOT have time for some motherfucker hoping to score when my fucking LIFE is on the fucking fulcrum, y’know?  But he’s the ONLY person in Orleans Parish who’s actually said that he’d help. Well, at DG, he said that he WOULD help, now he says that he MIGHT help. Any other questions?

I begged the nice varied-Arabic guys @ the corner store to loan me a cousin or a nephew or niece or SOMEBODY who’d do manual labor for insultingly-low pay, but no takers.  None of my physical therapy people can do it b/c of work schedules and mebbe they don’t love me THAT much, I dunno, anything’s possible, it’s not like anybody owes ME anything, outside of the aforementioned felons in my past/life/etc.  I’m the one in debt to EVERYBODY ELSE.  Except said felons and teh F.U.  SHE still owes me several grand, but I’ll never see it OR teh Dick’s will, even though it’s been almost 2 years since he died.  The main thing is that I actually am not physically capable of doing this shit on my own anymore.  It kills me to admit it, blows the fuck out of my once-aspiring-to-badassedness “image,” mostly in my own head, but there it is.  I’m old and crippled and exhausted and my hands are weaker than a drunken ferret, and far less predictable/reliable.  (And no, I’ve never given any animal alcohol of any form, thankyewverymuch.)

I am severely short of what I thought that I would have by now, even with token help from the F.U., and I do mean TOKEN. Not only is it the end of the month, and you know what that’s like, I know, but it’s the end of the month when I have no fucking CHOICE about doing this shit.  If the idiot bitch hadn’t LIED HER FUCKING FACE OFF TO ME FOR THE PAST MONTH, I’d have had this shit DONE already, even if I had to do it all by my broken-down fucktard SELF.  She told me NOT to get a storage unit, NOT to pack-up to move out, NOT to “worry,” and that I WOULD have those 2-3 months where Quadel (Reganomics subcontractor who writes the federal checks for the subsidies) would still be PAYING THEIR SHARE of the rent, ergo, *I* would still be “COVERED” by that, “legally,” and nobody would send Sheriff’s deputies here to throw all of my few remaining possessions OUT INTO THE FUCKING STREET FOR THE MAGGOTS TO HARVEST.

And yeah, there will be quality time in the truck, with Biddy and a tarp.  Don’t care about that right now. …   Just had ONE tire fixed today, because I picked-up a nail in the very thin/worn-down tread, so no telling if that’ll happen again or not.  I have NEVER had a disorganized move, EVER IN MY LIFE, at least not since my “parents” lost the house and threw me out without even letting me get any of MY stuff outta the fucking attic.  I’ve moved over 30 times in my life, and I have NEVER had to do it last-minute or because of a fucking EVICTION.  ALWAYS MY DECISION, MY PLAN, MY FRIENDS, MY WAY.

Now I’m at the mercy of some bony weirdo who thinks that he can play cellphone games like I’m some chick who’s trying to get him to ask me OUT or some similar stupidity.  …

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So now y’all, the Pickup Truck Rescue Missions + M.O.B. Mob, know
the basics and the bullshit, hopefully not too much bullshit to tolerate. As I mentioned, I will stay in touch with EVERYBODY as much as I can, and if I hit the Powerball or some equally-likely freak-of-nature thing happens and I am NOT outdoors as of March 6th, y’all will be the first ones to know.  And, as always, I’m sorry to vomit so much fucktarded drama onto y’all’s laps (ugh, sorry, did NOT mean to draw THAT picture, but it gave me a minor chuckle about a sales doooood {not ENTIRELY a nematode like all other radio sales scum, but damned close} who received a most-unsuccessful blowjob once…  heh heh heh…  Hey, disgusting as it is, ya takes yer chuckles where you can get ‘em.  Especially when your “neighbors” are celebrating your misfortune by letting SIX-YEAR-OLDS IN NO FUCKING HELMETS RIDE UN-MUFFLERED, STREET-ILLEGAL 4-WHEEL ATVs BACK AND FORTH AND BACK AND FORTH AND BACK AND FORTH IN FRONT OF YOUR HOUSE FOR FOUR FUCKING HOURS STRAIGHT, IMMEDIATELY AFTER YOU FOUND OUT THE WORST NEWS SINCE, well, y’all don’t need reminding of that stuff}, but, if I DIDN’T let y’all know what was going on, how would you know? I suck at trying to relate to/communicate with humans, especially the BEST humans possible (yeah, that would be Y’ALL), I just hope that I haven’t clusterfucked this little “news update.”

Any questions, advice, directions to Piyush Jindal’s trust fund or that scumsucking douchebag Tom Benson’s McMansion, etc. are MOST welcome and happily received.  In the meantime, I’m going to throw a box of roofing tacks out into the middle of Pleasure Street…  it’s not even ironic, to name THIS hellhole “pleasure,” is it?

I love y’all so much, and am so grateful to not only share the planet with such amazing people, seeing as how the majority of the planet are outright flaming ASSHOLES, neanderthals, greed whores, knuckle-dragging fucktards, thieving genocidal war profiteers, oil & petrochemical murderers, and Bill O’Reilly, who qualifies for all of the above  —  but I am most grateful that y’all, these wonderful and remarkable folk, actually want to be my friends. And that y’all have stuck with me, all of this time, through thick and thin, or shitrain and shithurricane, hell-tornadoes and vomit-tsunamis. Yeah, I dunno what it is with the vomit imagery tonight, sorry about that, too, but it’s what the 40 cars parked in front of ‘my’ apartment, the unlicensed dirt bike douchebag with no muffler that keeps revving its engine (can’t tell sex or identity under that crotch-rocket faux-leather & helmet costume) ON THE SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF ‘MY’ FRONT FUCKING PORCH  —  if it didn’t hurt so fucking much, I would HAPPILY go outside and puke right all over EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE BASS-TUBE-ADDICTED MOTHERFUCKERS.

Hey, it’s not an assault if you’re BARFING-UP YOUR TOENAILS AND GIRL-PARTS, IS IT?!?!?

Shutting up now.
Love and gratitude,
XOXOXO
Annti/Ranty/Fearckadelic/ExposedJugular

Be glad that your birfday doesn’t fall on THIS Tuesday…

Posted by Anntichrist S Coulter under Uncategorized (2 Responds)

Sincere & heartfelt apologies for so many of my nearest & dearest whose birfdays that I have missed celebrating already this month.  Seriously.  I know that it’s a lame-assed excuse, but I’ve never been served with an eviction notice personally before (my 17th birfday being another story entirely), so I’ve been preoccupied with shit that nobody wants to know about.

On the 10th, I missed the birfday of undoubtedly one of the coolest chicks on earth, seeing as how she & her family have allowed me to feel like I have an “extra” family in New Zealand:  Mrs. Die Frau Mentis, aka our own Mentis’ much-beloved wife.

And like an ass, I also forgot to send so much as an e-card on the 11th to one of the bestest friends ever to be found on teh innernets toobs, our own hell-raising Yankee, TERRIBLE, a man who makes Grizzly Adams look like a sissy and makes me look…  well, let’s just say, “bashful” sometimes…  heh.  Love ya Ted.  Sorry I cocked-up yer birfday.

Speaking of “not exactly bashful”… I also fucked-up and failed to commemorate, on the 13th (what was it with y’all Boomers’ parents and fucking in THE SAME DAMNED *WEEK* in May?!?!?), the appearance of the one & only Realist on our planet.  It ain’t been the same ever since…  heh.  Hey, if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be here @ seditious.org, would we?  We’d still be fucking-around with those censor-happy Google-globe-eating-monstrous-megacorporation dog-fuckers @ BLOGGER!!!  On my “budget,” we didn’t have many options, all twelve people who still visit this joint, did we?

At least I have not yet shorted the nearly-and-dearly-beloved Larkspur of commenting fame here & @ World O’Crap, whose birfday falls on the 24th. I think that she’s going to be 39ish this year, lucky heifer, she looks it, at any rate…  in case anyone might not know her, that’s YOUR loss, ’cause she’s one helluva woman, a very acerbic commenter and commentator, funnier than all hell and a true-blue friend.

EDIT: MASSIVE APOLOGIES to Larkspur AND KWillow, as I have no fucking CLUE as to how I combined them into ONE PERSON.  No excuse for it, just pure stupidity. Hope that both of y’all can forgive me. Not the first time that I’ve been confused as to real-life identities and mixing-up online nics  —  to this day, I still miss the fuck out of Mentata & Melior since the Katy, TX picture fuckup.  It was sent to me from a personal account that I couldn’t correlate with an online nic (never having seen said friend’s real name before!), so I inadvertently credited Mentis with it.  And have never heard from or seen the other two ever since.  So I hope to hell that THIS fux-pas won’t end-up with me losing two MORE friends. Can’t promise that it won’t ever happen again, just hope to hell that I can do better.

(Continuing, before the edit…) Granted, everybody on this list is, but I figured that that was a given, seeing as how my friends’ birfdays are my only real “holidays,” aside from dressing-up when I can for Halloween.  Nope, not a Wiccan, nothing against them (unless they start with that “I’m gonna HEX you!” bullshit, ’cause THEN rather heavy objects tend to become airborne, and not through “magick,” either!), and my only experience with Satanists is that they are one of THE most pathetic cults on earth (though those castrati idiots in California with the Nikes rival them for the title…  Westboro-NEVER-BEEN-BAPTIST-santorum-Spewing-So-Called-”Church” isn’t on the “pathetic” list, they’re on the ALMOST-AS-EVIL-AS-DICK-FUCKING-CHENEY List!!!), they don’t tend to bathe as often as, say, people in Fiji, where all that wonderful spring water is VERBOTEN to the locals, who can’t even get SANITARY SEWERAGE (for those of you who still drink that, albeit glorious, evil-dictator-enriching water who might not know yet  —  look it up @ Mother Jones, doubters), and they take Rammstein WAY too fucking seriously.  I just like Halloween ’cause it used to be FUN and the ONE holiday that they hadn’t whored-out to cheapskate fucking TOURISTS who DON’T TIP OR SPEND ANY MONEY ON LOCALS, just on made-in-Taiwan/China plastic SHIT from the hideous strip-malls formerly known as St. Charles Avenue & Canal Street.  Bitter?  Moi?  Perish the thought.

I wish you all another 30 years, or as many or few as you desire, of happiness, ever-increasing wealth & accomplishment, problems solved & dictators toppled, and promise that I’ll never be this slack-ass wif your birfdays again, even if I have to bathe @ the library.  Hey, free wifi!

And yes, I may well write again, someday, especially after the disgusting crabs-like PLAGUE known as Mardi Gras motherfuckers leaves town.  Yes, I know, 15 or 20 decent human beings might show up, but if y’all ain’t ever had to WORK in the Quarter for MG or Jazz Fest, you JUST DON’T FUCKIN’ KNOW. Yeah, we need the money, but it’s not like it’s ever been or will ever be EQUITABLY-DISTRIBUTED.  Did I mention that the motherfuckers DON’T TIP?!!!? They’d rather go to a $5 beer stall with no health certification that tip a hardworking bartender, wait-staff or dominatrix.  Of any and all sexes.  And they tend to treat EVERY woman in New Orleans like she’s PUBLIC PROPERTY and/or automatically some “whore” who was “asking for it” JUST BY LEAVING THE FUCKING HOUSE. And fuck a buncha “Drugged/Drunk Girls Gone Ripped-Off” motherfuckers AND Snoop, the rat-bastids.

Stay sober during the Amateur Drinking Hours, kids.  Y’all know.  And stay the hell off the roads if you can help it.

P.S.: Before anybody freaks out about the big-assed motherfucking rain band/tornado-spawning storm headed this way, DON’T!!! The worst of it will hit the “Nawth Shaw” nouveau-riche white trash who TELL people that they’re “from New Orleans,” but wouldn’t be caught DEAD associating with, “y’know, THOSE types of people” —  direct fucking quote. So I have no pity for them, sorry.  BUT: you don’t have to be a weather channel-junkie to know that it’s gonna be a biiiiggggg bitch.  Just watch the birds.  Out here in the boonies end of Orleans Parish, there’s a LOT of flat, empty land (used to be NEIGHBORHOODS, but the Waste Management & other assorted landfill fucks won’t let THAT happen again!) over which I’ve already observed this morning @ first light, DOZENS of actual HERONS (not impossible this far inland, but not common), WAY more bald eagles than we should see (they do love the fishing south of here, well, what’s LEFT OF IT), hawks, and yup, I even saw a pair of pelicans.  Dunno if they were natives or the filler browns that we had to bum off of Florida after BP’s INTENTIONAL GULF GENOCIDE, but they didn’t look AMUSED IN THE FUCKING LEAST.  Pelicans are generally coasters, great wingspan, catching thermals, generally fucking-around until they see sea food and/or tourists with sammiches.  This pair was, for lack of a better analogy, FLYING LIKE BATS OUTTA HELL. Yeah.  Not good.  So, sadly, no, I’ve not gotten my shit moved outta here before the cunts change the locks YET, but I don’t think that we’re in any bigger danger than the ruination of a parade by the most evil super-krewe ever formed, by the most-evil beady-eyed redneck, flat-headed Buddy-Roemer-wannabe-neanderthal, sexist-pig motherfucker who ever owned a radio station (and yes, I’m INCLUDING Galloways in that!), so all in all, WIN-WIN for me! (Nope, never going back to Mardi Gras.  12 years and I still don’t miss it.  ONE good thing about being back in THESE boonies.)

P.P.S:  ^^^DAMMITDAMMITDAMMITALLTOREDNECKISTAN!!!!!!^^^ Again, fucking sue me, but if I deserve any schadenfreude, dammit, it oughta come out of THAT minor-league politician’s flat, flagging, lily-white ASS.  I know, not a pretty cartoon to put in y’all’s  heads, but life, like Mardi Gras, ain’t purdy.  And fuck yes, the super-krewe got to ROLL and party their nouveau-riche-white-trash asses OFF.  Karma is just too fucking SLOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I’m grateful that, as of 10A Sunday morning, I’ve not seen nor heard of any loss of life or property for all us “innocent bystanders,” as vacuous & inexact a phrase as that is, but fuck, if a storm system that big is going to run through the neighborhood, it oughta do SOMETHING besides skeer the shit out of my Biddy cat.

And no, I don’t USUALLY freak out when celebrities self-destruct, but dammit, the woman is DEAD a fucking WEEK ALREADY, you fucking media-whore VULTURES.  Let the bitch REST already. There were a lot of things wrong with Whitney, she was no “angel,” but dammit, when I was 16/17ish, even still in the same house as THEM, she was HOPE, dammit, for several generations of ambitious girls & women.  Don’t ever believe that ANYBODY in this country got rich or famous/infamous without CONNECTIONS and/or MONEY, and I don’t just mean the ones that come with diamond-studded kneepads.  Their agents will always portray even the most-talented people, when they first break, as having “struggled” for it for years, eating ramen noodles and living in cars, etc., but truuustttt me, the last time that a true “unknown” made it big was when Judy Holliday was cast in Adam’s Rib, and even that was a favor of the great Katherine Hepburn.  But I am so fucking sick of the fucking RED-CARPET-styled FRENZY of celebutards & vultures who get exposure & money by picking the bones of REAL stars, before the bodies are even cold.  Plant the woman, please, and let her fucking REST.  I’m so sick of this shit.

It’s like unknowingly tuning-in to a syndicated rerun of “The Closer,” and it just HAS to be the episode where she has to have her long-loved, long-haired, beautiful Kitty put to sleep.  At least HER long-haired (fictional) baby got to LIVE THAT LONG, and she got to hold her when it ended.  Hell, y’all know how it feels, to lose an animal “child” and/or a human child.  You never “get over” that shit, nobody does.  I can only imagine what Biddy must be feeling and thinking, she’s never been as open as her brother, she will always be feral in her thinking, even I have to WORK to get her to express anything besides snotty derision or food hunger.  I wish that I knew where she & I were headed, so that I could at least try to give her THAT much hope, and because she’s starting to get a little chest rattle, because she can never spend as much time outside as either of us would like.  I know that she misses her bubbe, but dammit, she is NOT going to leave me or this planet, I don’t care WHAT it takes.  Sorry to end on such a bummer note, but, well, kids, that’s fucking life.  Or not.