Team Kimberlin Post of the Day

The Dreadful Pro-Se Scmalfeldt’s show cause hearing is on this morning’s docket in the Circuit Court in Carroll County. He has been ordered to show why he should not be found in contempt for violation of the current peace order issued against him.

Watch this space beginning at around 9 am for more information.

47 thoughts on “Team Kimberlin Post of the Day

  1. All the best today Mr. Hoge, my prayers are coming your way all morning. No matter the outcome of the hearing I pray you are granted lasting peace from BS. It seems like something so small to expect from an individual, but he just can’t do it. Sad

    • Yes, what badbilly said/wrote. Praying for your safety and strength, Mr. Hoge.

      Whatever the court decides, I hope it’s enough to get you and your family the peace most people take for granted.

  2. Good luck to you today good Sir. I hope that the Judge follows the clear evidence and provides you the protection from CBBS that you and a few others deserve.

    As for Bill, I hope you get what you most firmly deserve. To threaten peoples families is a low and disgusting act and you are not a person worthy of respect nor compassion. I watched a TV show yesterday on the building of the high security facilities located in Cumberland. NBCI looks like a lovely place for you to be located for a few years.

    • It’s sad but true, that most times a bad actor threatens a target and the target’s family, the bad actor usually completely gets away with it. And Team Kimberlin has its share of bad actors who threaten critics and their families – starting with the terrorist and pedophile, Brett Kimberlin himself.

      Bill Schmalfeldt’s key role on the team has been specifically harassment of Brett’s critics and their families, and only somewhat recently he’s started getting in real trouble for it. I too hope he gets in enough trouble to stop him from ever doing it again. The results Hoge has gotten are already better than anyone else achieved and also (so far) more effective than the results any of BS’s other targets have gotten, so some real congratulations is in order for all the careful work Hoge has put into something that actually helps a lot of other people. Hoge’s good work is likely to protect anyone else from becoming a victim of stuff like this:

  3. From a purely philosophical perspective, his letter is shocking. He’s basically saying his STAGE. V. PARKINSONS!!!!! should make him immune from court jurisdiction. Let’s think about what this means.
    We vest very important and severe power to the courts because, at some point, some entity needs the power to say “it ends here” and command obedience with force- in 8th grade English, that means “do what I say or the cops will MAKE YOU.” In our system, we vest that power in the courts.
    What is disfavored, and, in fact, is made illegal in virtually all circumstances, is the personal right to use force against another in virtually any circumstance short of self-defense (narrow exceptions for use of non-deadly force for the protection of property, i.e. shove the trespasser off my land.)
    When legal philosophers and political scientists refer to a “monopoly on violence,” they are referring to a government’s exclusive authority to use violence to enforce compliance. I can’t beat the crap out of a a guy that bought my 69 1/2 Mustang with a rubber check- I have to refer it to the police (whose authority is ONLY through the courts,) or sue him.
    In this country, crimes are referred to police, who investigate and turn the case over to government lawyers for prosecution, and all other disputes are civil suits.
    We demand that parties submit their disputes to the courts, rather than use self-help. In BMBS’s (Bowel Movement Bill Schmalfeldt’s) case, that means that his victims can either choose to report him to the cops or file a civil action and depend on the court’s authority to enforce its orders.
    BMBS is, in effect, saying that his handicap removes him from the class of people that can be enjoined with a civil action. In other words, if you complain to the courts about his behavior, you are persecuting him because of his disability. He is therefore immunized from any civil enforcement. He is arguing that, since Hoge is demanding that the court enforce its own order, Hoge is somehow abusing him.
    I simply ask BMBS this- WHAT WOULD YOU RATHER HIM DO!?!?!? Hoge has legions of followers that all know where you live. It would be a trivial matter to have any number of us show up in Elkridge to beat you down, trash your home, and leave you more broken than you are. But HOGE IS NOT ASKING THAT, and NO ONE has expressed a desire to do that. Quite the opposite, he has been exceedingly clear that he wishes no harm to come to you, and his compatriots have ALL been clear that they will not physically harm you.
    So what remedy is left, but the courts!?!?!? If BMBS says his STAGE. V. PARKINSONS!!!! grants him some cause of action for complying with a court order, he is saying that his STAGE. V. PARKINSONS!!!! means he is beyond the jurisdiction of the court.
    BMBS is damn lucky that he lives in a country where a STAGE. V. PARKINSONS!!!!! patient that is acting like a psychotic jerk need only fear an OSC. In virtually every government system, on Earth, throughout ALL OF HUMAN HISTORY, being an annoying asshole was sufficient cause for a serious beat-down. Having to go out in the cold and exercise due process rights is a CHERISHED RIGHT, not a burden.

  4. It is 0710 eastern time as the Conestoga departs the trailer park to embark on the perilous winter’s journey to Westminster.
    Ample supplies of water, placed under an ample hind end to prevent freezing, are on hand. Provisions of feral cat and raccoon jerky, enough for the arduous journey are loaded into the most modern conveyance available.
    As a contingency, a route was chosen that will allow for the hunting of wild game and the acquisition of pelts if the trek takes an ugly turn.
    More terrifying than the journey is the destination. At one time, the feckless traveler rejoiced in arrival at the only place he believed that his psychosis was not only accepted but encouraged and honored.
    Today’s trip is a much different endeavor. The traveler had it all figured out. Or so he thought. A pingback? Surely the state sanctioned Punisher wouldn’t allow one of his minions to be held accountable for such an arbitrary offense. An offense that, even though the traveler knew was in defiance of a previous directive of the Punisher, wasn’t all that grievous. It’s a good thing, the traveler thought, that all of his other transgressions were still hidden. If these came to light, the Punisher might surely side with the victim of the man now setting out on this winter day to a reckoning of his own making.

    To be continued….

    • A pathetic cry of, “HOOOOOOOOOGE” can be heard from the wagon. Before advancing to stage XXIX Parkinson’s, this cry would have been a full-throated roar that would cause avalanches from the peaks of the desolate deep winter mountains that surround the traveler.
      “I want it ALL, Doug” escapes his lips as a whisper and he remembers a time when he was feared. Not so long ago, actually. The Inspector realizes the horrible time he’s had since he destroyed The Knot. Well, not really destroyed them. But the rotund traveler DID send them into hiding. Maybe hiding isn’t very accurate. But the Admiral DID scare the group enough to make all of them forsake the interwebz forever. He takes joy in knowing that the web is safe from them. And he is reminded of this success every day when he reads the comments of the vile Howard Earl and witnesses the continued defiance of Jerry Fletcher. Wait..WHAT?
      The realization dawns that perhaps there was an ulterior motive in his current partners in grime telling him that he was indeed the last bastion of decency on the intertoobz and now that those felonious cheese eater were vanquished, he should join a winning team. Not knowing his role as cannon-fodder was preordained, he set his sights on a geek from Westminster. The Commodore had no doubt that his ham-handed techniques would make short work of this man who most certainly wears a pocket protector. A war-hero, who stormed the beaches of Beirut armed only with a Snickers bar and a supply Flinstones fashioned band-aids, a total badass that once saved US Marines by pulling them from the rubble, would steamroll the geek. This would put him in the good graces of Team Diddler. And reflecting in his past successes, he was convinced he would soon be anointed the leader of this band of free speech destroyers.

      To be continued….

      • The Seaman’s inner voice, the only one to which he gives credence, certainly more so than those shyster Craigslist Counselors, begins its circuitous ramblings again.
        “Hoge sure knows how to push traffic to his blog..” and “I think bringing family members into a flame war is wrong, except if your family member looks like she belongs on a cactus penis.” or, “I’m fairly sure IV had nothing to do with this, but being as I am a miserable prick.” bounce around his mostly empty head.
        A howl can be heard in the distance. “Probably wolves”, he mutters to absolutely no one but himself. Packs of the wild canines still patrol this stretch of Maryland wasteland. “I should have brought the stepson’s assault rifle”, he ponders. Having no knowledge or experience with such a sophisticate piece of equipment is irrelevant to the traveler. It would still make a fine club even if he lacks the intellect to make it go “BOOM”, likes he’s seen on Barnaby Jones.
        He will just have to settle for his trusty walker as a means of self-defense.
        It’s not like he has room in the wagon for much more than that and his provisions. The entire cargo area of the mostly exposed vehicle that is delivering him to the Punisher, measuring eighteen feet long by 7 feet wide, is stuffed to bulging with his exhibits to be presented to the court. Thousands of pages of tweets that were not sent to him. But they are ABOUT him. Scores upon scores of comments from others’ blogs that were never sent with him as the ultimate recipient. But are about HIM!! Star Porn; About HIM. Are you pondering what I’m pondering; ABOUT HIM!!! One blog entry garnered in excess of 300 comments. Having one blog entry with a total number of comments that far outnumbers the combined number of comments of the twenty or so blogs he’s created and abandoned THIS WEEK just isn’t fair. Especially as talented as the voices in the Travelers head continue to SCREAM to himself. And it’s just not Hoge that the Inspector plans to put on trial. He mentally inventories his cargo again making sure not to forget Krendler. An equal amount of “evidence” had been collected from that zombie’s cesspool of a blog. And if he get his hands on the contents of that Sooper Sekrit Site, he would have this whole affair wrapped up with a bow. Perhaps he should have stolen some of the captive nurse’s gin and penicillin money and paid those fine young hacker fellows the bitcoin they requested to infiltrate that fortress. Oh well. Spilled milk and all. And let’s not forget about the box of shit. Let’s NEVER forget about the box of shit. How dare someone send hazardous materials to my home and expect me to open it? Having an in-home servant has paid off over the years. They say a long-term commitment is a fifty-fifty proposition. He vows to the passengers of the automobiles that are honking their horns as they impatiently pass him that he will get around to his half of the bargain once he is triumphant and vanquishes Hoge. With no empathy he recalls the difficult time his captive nurse had loading the wagon. Had it not been for his bellowing instructions from the relative comfort of the trailer home, she might not have accomplished the task. It’s a good thing she completed the task when she did. Breakfast still needed to be prepared and the dogs just don’t walk themselves. “I should really start on the tribute site” is quickly replaced with an even more pressing thought. “Man, it’s cold out here.”

        To be continued….

    • Flexing his near frozen fingers in hopes of regaining even a bit of feeling, peering through squinted eyes against the bitter cold and wind-blown blizzard, Inspector Jiggles finally sees the courthouse just beginning to peak over the horizon.
      Almost there as he thinks, “Things will be different after this latest triumph”. He dreams of the new blogs that he’s brainstormed during this seemingly never ending journey. Committed to finally concentrating on his “comedy” and “music” he will leave The Twitterz. It has brought him nothing but heartache and did not turn out to be the hydrogen-bomb of harassment he dreamt it to be. Especially when that simpleton judge, the one with the boner and bow-tie didn’t even know its potential for administering interwetoobz justice to those daring to challenge his cyber-stalking and “journalistic” techniques. Techiniques akin to the subtlety of a five pound sledgehammer.
      NO MORE TWITTERZ. EVER. Not necessary. Admiral Asinine’s philanthropy and art will be the new order of the day. He reminisces of his many Twitter handles then quickly shuts down that train of thought.
      “My talent will be the light at the end of this tunnel named Hoge.” Dazed and Confused. Crazed and Bemused. Hating himself for so easily being distracted by his many clever online names, he steals another look forward. Tazed and a Moose. Razed and set loose…The COURTHOUSE of DOOM is much larger than he recalls last seeing it. Thinking what a shame that these newer architecturally unremarkable boxes no longer sport a clock in a tower, he thinks how apropos a giant DOOM CLOCK looming over him as he entered the building, if he EVER got there, would be.
      Glazed and Contused.
      “EUREKA! Mayonnaised and Obtuse.” He screams. “It’s perfect.” Then just as quickly reminds himself he is done with The Twitter. Then in almost the same mental breath, tells himself to shut his own disgusting sewer. It IS perfect and he WILL USE IT.
      “This is the home stretch, Brett. GIDDYUP!” he bellows at the diminutive diddler laboring under the wagon’s yoke. “We can’t be late.” As he cracks the whip for perhaps the last time on this leg of the journey. His beast of burden speeds up noticeably and The Admiral is sure that Brett enjoyed that last bit of prodding just a little too much.
      “I hope they have handicapped Conestoga parking” he cackles as a man with a bucket of water waits near the steps he will need to traverse to enter the building.

      The End.

  5. “No lists of things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later.” – Cormac McCarthy, The Road

    • Ugh. McCarthy might be a great writer but I detested that book. It was like a continuous downward spiral of despair, never quite hitting bottom and never a break in the darkness. I’m not a pollyanna who insists all stories need a happy ending, but that shit was about on par with [i]Requiem For A Dream[/i]

  6. This needs some appropriate music.

    It’s tempting to go for something impressive. I picked up Skyrim recently on the cheap, and ‘Song of the Dragonborn’ might be enjoyable.

    But honestly, the whole thing is such a farce because of BS’s inability to comprehend things like ‘stop talking to him, asshole’, that the ‘Yakety Sax’ theme seems much more in line.

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