Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


False narratives—they’re things that The Dread Deadbeat Pro-Se Kimberlin spreads. The TKPOTD from three years ago cites this example:

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When Brett Kimberlin isn’t lying, he’s often shading the truth so as to mislead. Consider this from paragraph 43 of his omnibus opposition to the motions to dismiss his Kimberlin v. The Universe, et al. RICO Madness.ECF 231-43Notice that Kimberlin does not say that he was involved in the production of any of those films. He says that he promoted them. Note also that he doesn’t say the his songs and videos were “award winning.” The sentence is a flimsy attempt to inflate Kimberlin’s standing in the music world. It’s all quite consistent with something reported by Mark Singer in Citizen K.

On page 310 he writes:

When I compared Kimberlin’s renderings of certain incidents with the recollections of other witnesses, the recurring theme of “jumping the connection” almost always emerged. When a dope dealer jumped a connection, he eliminated a middleman, hoping to cut his costs without increasing his risk. Now, both literally and figuratively, it seemed that Kimberlin had this same habit. Figurative instances were narratives in which he claimed center stage, though in reality he’d participated at a distant remove or not at all. Or, when it suited his purposes, he might do just the opposite, ascribing to others acts he had performed himself.

Lying liars gotta lie.

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And TDPK keeps getting caught at it over and over again.

Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


CitizenKIt’s been a while since we looked back at Brett Kimberlin’s authorized biography, Citizen K:  The Deeply Weird American Journey of Brett Kimberlinby Mark Singer. Here’s something from page 184 about his time in the federal prison in Oxford, Wisconsin.

At Oxford, he was assigned as a quality-control clerk at a prison factory that manufactured cables for military aircraft and tanks. His task was to inspect the finished goods. Each day, he said, he did his work quickly and then tried to immerse himself in a book, but the prison guard who was his overseer objected to his reading on the job. When he persisted, the guard threatened to give him a “shot”—to write an incident report  that could lead to disciplinary action. So he stopped bringing a book to work, he said, and instead devoted his spare time to sabotage. “I’d run the cables through quality control,” he said. “I’d check them. I’d sign off on them. And then I’d cut some of the damn wires.”

Of course, he was in the slammer for a bombing conviction, so I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that he would do something that would put someone’s life at risk.

Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


The two RICO LOLsuits that The Dread Pro-Se Kimberlin has filed against me were not his first venture into RICO madness. This is from the section in Mark Singer’s book Citizen K about TDPK in-prison business selling porn.

In January 1987, in federal court in Madison, Wisconsin, Kimberlin sued Crest Paragon Productions, alleging false advertising, breach of contract, mail fraud, conspiracy, and violations of the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO). According to the complaint, instead of thirty magazines and sixteen books Kimberlin expected when he responded to a back-of-the-book advertisement placed by Crest Paragon, he was sent “fifteen pamphlets and three paperback books of low quality.” He described this material to me as “real old four-by-six black-and-white pictures that looked like they were from the 1960s and came from England.” The tepid paperbacks had titles like Making a Score and Coed Cohabitation. When Kimberlin wrote a letter demanding the material he had originally ordered, the defendant had the temerity to offer instead “sexual aids,” including, Kimberlin noted, “a live-size inflatable doll, dildos, and a vibrating plastic vagina.”

Though Kimberlin felt conflicted because “I could have made a fortune on that stuff inside prison if it wasn’t contraband,” mainly he felt compelled to sue. He asked for compensatory and punitive damages totaling $150,000. After “a fucking Reagan appointee” dismissed the suit on procedural grounds, Brett appealed to the Seventh Circuit but was told he’d have to pay an additional filing fee. “I decided at that point I’d spent enough on this,” he said. “So I just blew if off.”

—p. 203

So far, it looks like he’ll be three for three.

Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


As part of my background research on the Dread Pro-Se Kimberlin, I dug up a bunch of the reviews of his authorized biography Citizen K from when it was published in 1996. Considering that he hasn’t let the one year statute of limitations on defamation stop him from suing me over a non-defamatory blog post written more than a year before he filed suit, TDPK may want to consider adding these media outlets to the new suit he says he’s cooking up.

New York Times—

Mr. Singer began his reporting for the book in the summer of 1993, by going back to Indiana and checking up on what Mr. Kimberlin had told him. What he learned led him, almost immediately, to the conclusion that his subject was a liar of substantial proportions.

Entertainment Weekly—

Having since decided that his subject was, in fact, lying, he’s returned to the tale and fleshed out Kimberlin’s manipulative personality.

Baltimore Sun—

Citizen K lied. Brett lied. Lied about selling pot to Quayle. Lied about everything.

Publishers Weekly—

Quayle, it now seems, deserves apologies.

Los  Angeles Times—

Singer eventually found nearly all his complaints without foundation.

By the end of this complex tale you are left regretting that Singer and the New Yorker overlooked the sound advice of a New Yorker writer of an earlier time, James Thurber. One of his fables, about a feckless horse, ends with a moral all reporters should keep close to their hearts: “Get it right or let it alone. The conclusion you jump to may be your own.”

You see, Gentle Reader, Brett Kimberlin’s reputation as a liar goes a long way back.

Bonus Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


The Gentle Reader who has been following the twists and turns of The Saga of The Dread Pro-Se Kimberlin’s vexatious lawsuits has surely noticed the substantial disconnect between TPDK’s allegations and reality. This isn’t a new phenomenon. Mark Singer wrote his biography of Brett Kimberlin a couple of decades ago. Singer writes in Citizen K (p. 310):

Once I compared Kimberlin’s renderings of certain incidents with the recollection of other witnesses, the recurring theme of “jumping the connection” almost always emerged. When a dope dealer jumped a connection, he eliminated the middleman, hoping to cut his costs without increasing his risk. Now, both literally and figuratively, it seemed that Kimberlin had this same habit. Figurative instances were narratives in which he claimed center stage, though in reality he’d participated at a distance or not at all. Or, when it suited his purposes, he might do just the opposite, ascribing to others acts he in fact had performed.

Or simply put: Brett Kimberlin tells whatever lie he thinks is to his advantage at any given moment.

Citizen K


CitizenKBack in the ’90s, before Brett Kimberlin’s parole was revoked, Mark Singer extensively investigated Brett Kimberlin’s background and his claim to have sold marijuana to Dan Quayle. Citizen K is the saga of a master drug smuggler, convicted bomber, suspected murderer, jailhouse lawyer, and media manipulator, whose story about supplying marijuana to a future vice president is only the beginning.

Click here to buy the book through Amazon.

UPDATE—Mmmmm. Popcorn.

Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


In the summer of 1993, while Brett Kimberlin was still locked up on bombing and dope smuggling charges, Mark Singer began probing further into Kimberlin’s story. Because of what Singer had written in the New Yorker about Kimberlin’s claim to have sold marijuana to Dan Quayle, there were few sources in law enforcement who would speak with him, so Singer began looking for folks to talk to in Huntington, Indiana, (Dan Quayle’s hometown) and Bloomington, Indiana, where Kimberlin had claimed to have done business with Quayle. Singer writes in Citizen K (p. 310):

Once I compared Kimberlin’s renderings of certain incidents with the recollection of other witnesses, the recurring theme of “jumping the connection” almost always emerged. When a dope dealer jumped a connection, he eliminated the middleman, hoping to cut his costs without increasing his risk. Now, both literally and figuratively, it seemed that Kimberlin had this same habit. Figurative instances were narratives in which he claimed center stage, though in reality he’d participated at a distance or not at all. Or, when it suited his purposes, he might do just the opposite, ascribing to others acts he in fact had performed.

Or simply put: Brett Kimberlin tells whatever lie he thinks is to his advantage at any given moment.