Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


Back in 2015, I ran a series of posts detailing what I then saw as Team Kimberlin’s greatest mistakes to that date. The final post in that series ran three years ago today.

* * * * *

One of the Gentle Readers suggested that I do a Top 10 list of the biggest mistakes Team Kimberlin have made in their lawfare. That sounded like a good idea, so here’s screw up number one.

10. Brett Kimberlin Sues Seth Allen
9. Brett Kimberlin Petitions for a Protective Order Against His Wife
8. Kimberlin Seeks a Peace Order Against John Norton
7. Schmalfeldt Seeks a Peace Order Against Patrick Grady
6. Kimberlin Files Kimberlin v. The Universe, et al. RICO Madness
5. Kimberlin Files Kimberlin v. Walker
4. Schmalfeldt Sues Me in State Court
3. Kimberlin Uses JTMP Funds to Pay a Fee in Kimberlin v. The Universe, et al.
2. Kimberlin Obtains an Unconstitutional Gag Order Against Aaron Walker

1. Kimberlin Sues Me Yes, that’s the dumbest move The Dread Pro-Se Kimberlin has made to date. Sure, he just sued a law firm with 800 lawyers. That was pretty dumb. He’s sued a couple of investigative reporters That wasn’t very smart. He’s sued several big-time media personalities and organizations. That was downright foolish. Those are all people and organizations with the skills and tools to fight back, and, for the most part, they have. But suing me, and his timing in doing so, was his worst move. He did it just as I was retiring and was able to focus full-time on the lawsuit. I was a defendant with nothing else to do and with experience investigating complicated problems. Oh, and I’m pigheaded and not likely to let go of a problem until I solve it.

popcorn4bkKimberlin whines in his complaints that I have amassed a huge amount of information about him. Yes, I’ve done my homework. I’m prepared to defend myself. He was lucky that Judge Johnson ended the Kimberlin v. Walker, et al. trial before I had to vigorously do so. His luck was even better in the RICO Madness LOLsuit. It was dismissed without even a hearing.

RICO2: Electric Boogaloo is pending in U. S. District Court and the Kimberlin v. National Blogger Club Part Deux LOLsuit is pending in state court. We’ll see how his luck holds.

Note: I’m unretired and back at work more or less full time, but the months I had to focus full-time on my defense were invaluable.

* * * * *

Of course, all of the additional LOLsuits filed by The Dread Deadbeat Pro-Se Kimberlin and The Dreadful Pro-Se Schmalfeldt failed.

Or to put it another way: Everything has proceeded as I have foreseen.

2 thoughts on “Team Kimberlin Post of the Day

  1. Brett clicks the light at the top of the stairs. Wouldn’t do to slip while descending down in to the Brett Bunker. Which is actually his mom’s basement… But a man’s gotta’ have his cave. A place to get away to so he can think.

    Turns on all the lava lamps; they gotta’ warm up. Bean bag chair sits in the middle of the room. Brett is wearing his favorite Nehru jacket for todays session. The black light posters on the walls shine in ultraviolet light while he loads some primo bud in to the hookah. Switch on the reel-to-reel tape player and the soothing sound of a sitar completes the mood. Spark it up, baby.

    Time to relax.

    Let the smoke and the music flow. Yes. Yes, that’s it.

    Time to ponder future lawsuits. And the nature of the universe. The Resistance. Everything’s groovy now. Just go with it… “I’m feeling mellow yellow. That’s right.”

    Brett giggles. An upside-down Soros floats off to a corner of the room. And the witch flying the broomstick not only looks remarkably like Hillary Clinton but is also flying too close to the ceiling. That can’t be. Everybody knows witches have radar-altimeters. The lava lamp on Bretts’ left turns into a sandworm and starts arguing with Denzel Washington.

    “What to do? What to do? Whack-a-do? If I had a hammer I’d take away all the guns while the moon is in the seventh high. I need better friends.” Brett sighs while the room spins. Comey laughs and Tiger sinks a three-pointer while balancing on Yoda. George Custer is mustering the entire 7th Cavalry on the far side ceiling. This is not good. Keep a eye on them.

    “Why is the Democrat Establishment holding me at arms length? Have I not contributed money? I have. Have I not actively pursued materials deleterious to the other party? I have. Is that the Pope over there wearing a duck costume? I believe so. Am I not a card-carrying member of The Resistance? I am.”

    Brett continues talking to himself.

    “Schumer won’t take my calls. Takes my money but not my calls. Pelosi won’t take a meeting with me. Captain Jack Sparrow won’t take a meeting with me either but at least I get the excuse from his office that Captain Jack is off in the Pacific sailing with Larry Ellison. Wonder how that pot of spaghetti is doing writing the next great Tom Wolfe novel? It’s just sitting there. Maybe I should approach Maxine ‘INPEACH FOATEY_FIVE!’ Waters? Maybe she would meet with me… Is the Cavalry moving? Yep. It’s moving. Hey Yoda, you and Denzel go cut those guys off!”

    “The courts hate me. I knows it. Tricksy lawses and procedures. Why they can’t see past all that and in to the depth of my hatred… Feeling. The depth of my feeling. I’ll never know. But TIIIIIIIMMMME is ON my side. Yes it is.”

    The witch flies air cover for Yoda and Denzel. Brett smirks, “Now that’s the combined arms Air-Land battle doctrine I’ve been waiting to see.” Seventh Cav calls up butterflies and the fight’s on.

    The room shifts, grows dark and then the stars come out. Brett is outside on the forward bow of the starship UNSS Che Guevara. Looking to his right he notes a pterodactyl flying formation in a combat spread three miles out and properly in trail. The pterodactyl is carrying AMMRAAM misses under each wing but that’s not as noticeable as the Jon Stewart clown nose on its beak.

    In space nobody can hear you scream. Or talk, either. And that’s why Bretts’ self-dialog continues as represented in the cartoon-speech bubbles that appear around his head. They fade. So keep up.

    “In space my hair doesn’t get blown around even though we’re traveling at, what, warp 9 or so. Captain Bill must be in a hurry to get somewhere. Not that it matters; he’ll never get anywhere.”

    Even at warp 9, Brett sitting on the starship Che gets passed like he’s standing still by Spaceman Spiff. And looks like Spiff is being chased by the mighty Thor who flips Brett off- As they get closer an asteroid field resolves itself into giant tumbling mushrooms; each with kittens sleeping on top. Multiple kittens. None of which look like Onyx.

    “That’s some good shit right there” Brett thinks. “Paying a bit extra is always worth it because the quality is just in a different class.”

    “I’m surprised the Democrats aren’t in a different class.” Brett mulls further. “All I want is to be a playa’- Don’t need to be up front with the cameras. Just in all the important strategy sessions. Also I can run the Dark Ops Division and handle all the black bag work on the side. Goodness knows Neal needs the work.”

    “Maybe I should hire a PR firm to smooth over my image. Past felonies were political conspiracies. Youthful indiscretions, bygones and besides I’ve paid my debt to society. Hoge and all the Lickspittles? Vast Right Wing Conspiracy and if that’s not easy to understand I don’t know what is. My problem, I think, is the Singer book.”

    The starship Che barrels towards LAX runway 25R too high and way too fast. “The hell? Hope the idiots inside execute a missed approach,” Brett says out loud. They do and the Che climbs through the usual thin scattered layer hanging over Los Angeles. As they turn right to 270 degrees Brett looks over his shoulder and sees a SR-71 being scrambled in his direction from Nellis AFB. Even noting that Pikachu is driving the big black USAF jet Brett sees the Pacific Ocean in front and clear skies above. “Blue skies. I got nothin’ but blue skies..” Brett sings.

    Starship Che climbs through lower orbit and heads in to space.

    “Think we should have taken a left at Albuquerque but what the hell. The Singer book. That’s my problem. Started out as a collaborative effort but then Singer turned on me. And even then, the book didn’t go far enough.”

    The moon winks at Brett and offers up a high-five. But the Che is too far out of position for Brett to return the slap.

    “And Singers’ book… Heh. He didn’t even scratch the surface. Nobody knows all the things I’ve done. Nobody knows that I have more money than all the Lickspittles put together. Unlike some idiots I work to lead a low-profile life and its paid off. Google ‘private investigator + maryland’ Go ahead I dare you. There are none.”

    The Che races on. Space turns in to a rainbow connection. Brett Kimberlin, Social Justice Warrior and Leftist Stooge is sitting up front. Still.

    “Virginia, on the other hand. And some of the surrounding states too… PI websites indicate they specialize in following people for divorce cases. That could be problematic. What if I were followed? That could be problematic. Yeah, I said it twice. Mean’t to. Good thing nobody or collection of nobodies has the resources to collect material for another book. Not that there’s anybody who could write another book.”

    The Great Speckled Bird of the Galaxy looks directly at Brett. “Nobody?” it croaks. “Little One, do you believe that there is nobody diligent enough to work though what you do and how you’ve done it? Nobody capable of holding their cards close to their vest? Oh, Brett-“ The Bird flies off.

    Realization dawns. No. Can’t be. Couldn’t be. Brett reaches in to his pocket for The One Ring. It’s not there. This is not good.

    Space and time shift. The room comes back in to a blurry focus. But already Brett can tell he is alone. And in a sense, he always has been.

    “What a trip. But I did find enlightenment.” Brett hoists himself out of his bean bag chair. Turn off all the lava lamps, pour water on the hookah and throw some dirt on it too, and turn off the black lights. Tugs at the collar of his Nehru jacket. Getting a little tight.

    And two steps away from the stairs…

    Splat.

    Brett looks down. Horse poop. Stepped right in it.

    “What am I going to say when he invites me to the wedding?”

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