Wayne Michael Reich

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Month: March 2022

The Kook of Ruth Pt.3 (Sugar & Slice)

“Oh Lestat, you deserved everything that’s ever happened to you. You better not die. You might actually go to hell.” – Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat

Salutations, Bitchiteers!

How in the H-E-double hockey sticks, are you?  I for one, am middling along, doing what I do, and enjoying almost every minute of it, whenever it’s possible to do so. In other words, a fairly typical afternoon interlude for yours truly, despite my suffering as of late, some unwarranted, if not unwanted, personal stressors.

First up on the giant hot-plate of harried tranquility, is the lamentable passing of my GF’s father, “Bud”, at 93 years of age, and in tandem, all of the minutiae that comes with such tragedy, such as the overseeing of estate dispensation, the planning of a memorial, as well as tackling the multiple legalities involved when one departs the mortal coil., While we’re obviously engaged in the opening act of such, it’s proving to be quite challenging on many separate levels, as only one who has been through the process, can imagine.

In time, all will be settled, but at the present moment, I’d analogize the ever-developing situation at hand as a razor-studded puppy, that just wants you to tightly hug it, as it jumps in your lap, and shreds your face with its spike-laden tongue. Until someone close to you dies, you’ll never know just how complicated the concept of one’s after-death can turn out to be. And as is the stereotypical pattern involving both grief and reticent responsibilities, the way forward is never as clear as one wants it to be.

The next snag in my attempt to finally develop a sense of truly internal and serene Zen, is the fact that it appears my supposedly a few years down the road metaphorical surgical procedure for cataracts, has decided not only to book its room early, and in doing so, thought that bussing in all its sorority brothers from college, to liven the party up, was a good idea too. Unfortunately, after several injections into my left eye to forcibly evict an unwanted buildup of excess fluid, the time has come for the next step, that being the wonderful world of outpatient surgery.,

At this time, I’m not entirely sure when this is going to take place, but hopefully it’ll be sooner than later, and if all goes well, it might hopefully improve (somewhat) the ongoing issues related to the degradation of my vision. An additional upside is the fact that the injections do seem to have had an effect for the better, but I’m still anxious nonetheless, as I find myself contemplating what could happen, if all does not go according to the less than divine plan.

Let me be honest here for a brief moment, if I may- even if I managed to pull off one of the best Helen Keller cosplays ever, I still can’t pull off the sunglasses at night look that Stevie Wonder nailed so successfully decades ago, either. And as for that whole having to rely on using a white cane thing to get around?  I refuse to own, or even openly utilize, any accessory that clashes so horribly with my summer wardrobe, so there is that to consider, regardless of what anyone may say.At a second glance however, no pun intended, maybe I’m being somewhat overly harsh here, as with the right marketing, I’m fairly confident that I could probably rock this look, provided that my suit is tailored and that my main squeeze is a Latina pop-star. The downside however, as it was made clear to me repeatedly, if not directly, that said procedure would not, and I quote; “Give you or anyone else for that matter, x-ray, laser, or the radar vision possessed by Daredevil”, which I feel quite honestly, is sort of a supreme letdown, given my particular circumstances.

My wish for much-desired superpowers aside, I’m hopefully anxious as to what the eventual outcomes of the dual procedures will be, but as the saying goes; “Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength”, so as is my way, I’m dealing with it tin the only way I know how, by making jokes and attempting to pretend I’m not concerned at all. So far, it’s working like a charm, because when it comes to drafting convoluted delusions of specifically personal grandeur, I may as well be Zaha Hadid.

Google her. Her work is fantastic, and unlike Frank Lloyd Wright’s, it’s designed around the concept of actual people using it. Yeah, I said it. His work is far more pretty than functional, and I say this as someone who once spent three days shooting a series of parties for the exceedingly pretentious Taliesin West alumni. Their collective work may be derivative as f**k, but at least their check cleared without issue, and that’s al  that mattered in the end.

Speaking of pretentiousness, today’s screed is a continuance of the saga regarding a self-righteous cafeteria Christian, who, despite her penchant of self-generating tall tales that nobody wants to either hear or believe, fancies herself as an ever-victorious Daughter of God, while simultaneously dealing the victim of cruel fate card from the bottom of the proverbial martyr deck, as if she were Lando Calrissian in a particularly contentious game of Sabacc:

Granted, while Seawolf’s ability to go full Moebius strip with what actual truth is quite impressive, I feel that yet again, I must give credit to for her ability to distill the purest of drama from the essence of literally nothing, and, while I do truly appreciate the riches for mockery that she provides so willingly if not obsessively, it also doesn’t mean that I’m going to give her a pass in regards to it, either.

Think of it as the ultimate win-win for the both of us- I get to have some fun at her expense, she gets to witness her absurdly insane takes get disseminated to the curious at large, and in the end, everyone save her of course, gets the sense of comfort that comes with knowing deep down, that regardless of whatever measure of personal stupidity that they may possess, it, at the very least, cannot even begin to best hers.

To add this judgement to the Jenga tower that I’ve assembled so far, I’ll present yet another public declaration from the kook that is Ruth, and in doing so, reiterate once more what happens when you believe in angels and talking snakes, yet truly think that established science was deliberately crafted by a disgruntled ex-employee of the world’s largest Ponzi scheme, in order to lead you astray:I say to you now, and this with all supreme confidence, that if the properties of magnetism could be applied to Seawolf’s inherent sense of witlessness, the end result would be her finding herself being unable to walk past the open doors of a Home Depot without looking as if she were modeling for its nut and bolt aisle, but I digress.

However, I will also admit, that I may be a tad bit jealous here, in regards to this unintentional superpower of hers. Imagine being able to walk around with this much self-righteous stupid just oozing out of your pores. and yet somehow, still manage to not accidentally kill yourself while making toast. And on a daily basis, no less. It’s been said that mythical God protects drunks and children, but I never knew that umbrella of defense extended to those with the Faith of a child, and the intellect of a perpetually-soused career alcoholic.

I seriously love the arrogance displayed here, as it’s the essence of who Ruth is, and of the idiocy she serves as an inadvertent spokesperson for, For the better part of the last two years, Seawolf has openly expressed anti-masking, anti-vaxx, anti-public mandate views, despite allegedly becoming ill with the disease itself, but she also feels that those who’ve turned their back on preventative measures shouldn’t be held to any degree of social contempt if they wind up getting sick, due to their own abject density?

In regards to this asinine take of hers, all I can say is this:

Whenever I see one of these unaccredited “Reposted from” pieces of propagandist nut-fodder being respectfully disseminated as if it were from a sage up on high, I already know that I’m about to enter a world of alternative facts at best, and a dystopian view of reality, at worst. And regardless of which situational aspect that you find yourself waking among, Seawolf’s hypocrisy will most certainly be the binding agent twixt the two.

After all, as a self-professed Christian, Ruth may bear reasonably valid offense at what I can only assume is what she sees as a repudiation of Proverbs 3:2, that being noted as: “Don’t withhold good from someone who deserves it, when it is in your power to do so.”, but if this is true, shouldn’t she also be equally applying her God’s edict expressed in Philippians 2:4, which clearly demands that; “Instead of each person watching out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others.”, as well?

I only say this of course, because as a supposedly ardent disciple of Jesus, she should have been doing so without question for quite some time now, but when you’re a reputed cafeteria Christian as Seawolf appears to be, follow-through, most likely, isn’t going to be your strong suit.

But as noted oft-time before, the one area where Seawolf truly shines, is in how she places the blame for other people’s ignorant decisions, squarely on the shoulders of those who suffer the most for their being made, that being the dedicated medical professionals who have been forced to watch the cascade of easily preventable deaths, that have been laid out before them over the last two years. If you didn’t trust the science then, I see no reason as to why you should be allowed to demand the advantage of it now, if I may be so brusque.

As for her “examples” unrelated to the issue at hand regarding the bad personal decisions of strangers, and that she feels shouldn’t exclude others from the commonality of the social circle, let’s recall this tidbit that I referenced two blogs back, wherein Ruth displays her Christian concern for those afflicted by the curse of addiction.For the record, nobody (save for the voices in Ruth’s head, that is) was referring to [correct spelling] “murderers”, drug addicts, or thugs who threatened pregnant women as “heroes”, but such minutiae is irrelevant, when it’s already been made obvious that if Seawolf were in charge of dispensing medical preference for treatment, she’d drop said dregs of society, faster than she would drop acting on the advice she so churlishly metes out to others.

And speaking as a 20+ year victim of diabetes, I take slight personal offense at the implication expressed by this woman who looks as if she was formed out of raw cookie dough and bargain hair spray, suggesting that Diabetes is caused by dietary regimen alone, as the exact cause remains unknown. What is acknowledged however is that your immune system, starts attacking and eventually destroys, insulin-producing cells in the pancreas. So, for her to present such ignorance yet again as factual within the context of a so-called talking point, rubs me the wrong way, somewhat.

Adding further insult to injury, Seawolf then goes on to question the adherence to the oath medical practitioners set as their ethical cornerstone, in deference to lauding undeserved sympathy upon those who unarguably, have purposefully abused its noble charter since the onslaught of the pandemic arrived, in order to play both ends against the middle.

Keep in mind that according to her own postings, Seawolf herself, as well as her immediate family, may have allegedly suffered from a rather severe bout with COVID, and despite this, still demands that we as a society, along with its overworked caregivers, just allow these idiots willfully spreading both this plague and the disinformation regarding it, the benefits of charitable grace?

Well, when it comes right down to the act of doing so, all I can say is…

I appreciate more than you can imagine, the absurdly uninformed manner in which Seawolf also takes unwarranted umbrage to those shunning common sense protocols being correctly deemed as ignorant, yet somehow misses the non-subtle hypocrisy of the very same, beseeching those that they’ve slandered for months as the true enemies of personal freedom, to arrive in the nick of time as much desired saviors.

Seawolf’s duplicity regarding her personal act of Orwellian doublethink though, shouldn’t really come as a shock though, since after all, she’s also the same spiritual simpleton who after close to two years of praying to her man-made Sky-daddy to protect both her and the ones she claims to love, from the ravages of COVID, slavishly thanked “Him” for releasing her from its torment,, after his display of stunn9ng incompetence wherein he failed to keep her free from it.

Nope… nothing mentally unsound to unpack there, my readers. Nothing at all.

But as has been established within the last few pieces I’ve written about her, Seawolf is at least consistent in her disingenuous inanity, regardless of what the topic being discussed at the time is, and mythical God, I do so love her for it.

In the past, Seawolf has stated that the abominable events that occurred in our nation’s Capitol on January Sixth, were indeed, not the fault of her fellow Trumptards, but were instead, the end result of insidious machinations by outside agitators, despite not possessing one shred of credible evidence to support this widely debunked claim, as has always been the case whereas the majority of her stereotypically insane beliefs are concerned.

But don’t let me sway you with my silver-fingered typing, just peruse this posting of hers and determine if I’m correct in regards to my acidic assessment for yourself:

I have no definitive proof of this, but somewhere out there, residing within the anaerobic lagoon that is the World Wide Web, sits the craftsperson in charge of constructing unhinged conspiracy theories for morons such as Ruth, and who most certainly, wakes up every day thanking Fate for not only her unshakeable faith in the bulls**t that they create, but also the manner in which she fellates Trump’s boots, that being, with the enthusiasm of a Catholic priest who’s been left unsupervised at a Boy Scout Jamboree.

And no, I won’t apologize for making that comparison, for when a supposed grown-ass woman, who could be easily assisted in her quest for knowledge by the use of unfettered access to proven data,  but instead, decides to eschew all of that to disseminate the illogical lunacy of a personality cult, I see no need to pull my metaphorical punches, now, or in the eventually to be experienced future.

I can handle the small variances inherent within the boundary of legitimate opinion, for variety is the spice of life, but that maxim depends on the variable that the allegorical spice in question, is akin to Basil, not Bats**t. Thus far, Seawolf has posted a diversity of mentally challenged and evidence free assertions, ranging from the lies regarding non-existent election fraud, to my personal favorite, the spiritually blind naivete that “God” is in charge of everything, and doing one heck of a job running the known universe, despite all indications to the contrary.

The vapidly ridiculous concept of an ever-present God being in control, was vehemently dissected by the British actor and comedian Stephen Fry, who during a 2016 appearance on an Irish Tv show hosted by Gay Bryne, responded with the following when asked by Byrne what he might say to God, if he found himself before the gates of heaven:     

SF: “I will basically (it’s known as theodicy, I think) I’ll say, “Bone cancer in children? What’s that about? How dare you! How dare you create a world where there is such misery that is not our fault! It’s not right. It is utterly, utterly evil. Why should I respect a capricious, mean-minded, stupid god who creates a world that is so full of injustice and pain? That’s what I’d say. “

Byrne: “And you think you’re going to get in?”

SF: “Oh, but I wouldn’t want to. I wouldn’t want to get in on his terms. They’re wrong. Now, if I died and it was Pluto, Hades and if it were the twelve Greek gods, then I’d have more truck with it because the Greeks didn’t pretend not to be human in their appetites, and in their capriciousness and their unreasonableness; they didn’t present themselves as being all-seeing, all-wise, all-kind, all-munificent; because the god who created this universe (if it was created by God) is, quite clearly, a maniac – utter maniac, totally selfish.

We have to spend our life on our knees thanking him? What kind of god would do that? Yes, the world is very splendid, but it also has in it insects whose whole life-cycle is to burrow into the eyes of children and make them blind. They eat outwards from the eyes. Why did you do that? Why? Why did you do that to us? You could easily have made a creation where that didn’t exist. It is simply not acceptable.

So, you know, atheism is not just about not believing there’s a god – but, on the assumption there is one, what kind of god is it? It’s perfectly apparent that he is monstrous, utterly monstrous, and deserves no respect whatsoever. The moment you banish him your life becomes simpler, purer, cleaner – more worth living in my opinion.”

Man… that is a brutal take-down, and it presents as even worse, when you remember that other than being perfectly expressed, it was delivered via an upper-class British accent, to boot. If I was God, I’d want to kill myself after having been subjected to that, but since I’d just rise from the dead three days later, the only positive thing that I’d get out of engaging in such a pointless endeavor, would be some personal downtime at best. 

As my two-time collaborator Arizona-based filmmaker Douglas Proce, once said to me; “Gods are experts at wiping out entire civilizations as part of “their plan.” No one can articulate what that plan is, other than “God” has one. Of course, “God” moves in “mysterious” ways, and – wouldn’t you know it – it’s a SIN to even question “The Plan.” Just obey, and let the “Prophets” tell you how to think. These simpletons have no idea what tyrants they really are.”

Taking into account that Seawolf’s preferred pastor is allegedly no more than a talking-snake oil salesman at his best, and that she willingly ignores the edict expressed in Exodus 20:16 as if it were a group of respected virologists explaining how vaccines work, her insistence on magical thinking should really come as no surprise to anyone, save for the same puritanical panderers that purport a singular devotion to the imagination-based faith that when tested, finds itself betrayed by her contradictory actions.

While I for one, don’t believe in an overseeing Skydaddy outside of the one the US government inflicts itself as, I do have to wonder, that if one did exist, would he, being the petty sociopath that he tends to be, truly appreciate the irony of one of his alleged lambs running around with a mouthful of cherry-picked Scripture, and an icy heart brimming with hypocritical hate?

I think not, but what do I know? As I, unlike Seawolf, don’t require the services of a celestially cast-aside former employee to shoulder my personal foibles, nor do I shirk my culpability when my own actions bring the curs of chaos to my literal doorstep, either. If it’s my fault, I own that fact entirely, and I don’t see the practicality of subcontracting the resultant fallout to the innocent within my view, as Seawolf has seemingly done, for what seems to be most of her alleged to be an adult life.

And just like the other narcissiic prattlers of puerility that Seawolf slavishly worships, the valid criticism directed at her numerous failures as both a person and alleged Christian, are of course, never her fault, be it partially or entirely but are instead, the malicious machinations of select persons who, for some oddly never-named but always broadcast reason, are just envious of her… um… let’s see…

(Artbitch scratches head, stares into the vastness of his inner space for five long minutes, all while humming the theme from “The A-team, and still coming up blank.)

Ok, I don’t know what these said individuals might be jealous of, but something tells me it isn’t going to be based on her intellectual prowess, that’s for damn sure. Fortunately for us however, Seawolf’s very public pulpit of petulance [AKA: Facebook] provides the perfect conduit for her to express this singular view of facing consistently unwarranted persecution, in a way that only a snowflake doused in bargain-brand Max Factor could do- by posting sentiments cribbed off a Hobby Lobby display:

I wasn’t aware that total strangers would ever want histrionic displays of hypocrisy, faux Christian values, and a case of ever-increasing mental illness disguised as religious faith Ruth, but I guess it takes all kinds, am I right? Oh, and the reason why “they” hate on you, my apostle of the divine asinine, is because at your core, you’re an absolute horror-show of a human being. But don’t just take my word for it- Jesus himself, said as much, over brunch last week, right after he bragged about no longer taking your calls.

The varied definitions of the word “Great”, as defined by most common dictionaries, and as they’re applied to Seawolf: “Notably large in size”. Much in the way of how one might describe either her Ego or sense of personal ignorance. “Remarkable in magnitude, degree, or effectiveness” Also true, as Ruth is great at being a perfect example as to why condoms should have been given to her dad as a graduation gift. “A generalized term of approval”. This is true as well, for its gonna be a great day when they finally put Ruth in a room wallpapered with bubble wrap, and throw away the only key.

However, my overall favorite descriptive is this ironic gem; “One who is superior in character or quality.” This of course, only applies if you dare compare Ruth to her factory-made Chinese-equivalent, because even in this, the age of globalized outsourcing, the best alleged idiots such as she, are still manufactured right here in the good ol’ USA.

America. F**k yeah.

After perusing this clueless as hell assessment, I ‘m compelled to quote the late Cad Bane, the infamous former mentor to legendary bounty hunter Boba Fett; “Well if that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy”, a position that I’m going to defend, no matter how many times the gathered Sith complain about it.

Not only is this a stunning case of a craven conservative engaging in a classic act of self-owning, the context of its irony, is literally off the scale, to jackboot. Seawolf’s entire raison d’être, as we’ve all seen, is fueled by a near-pathological obsession to not only judge those and the opinions that they may hold, a beneath contempt, but to falsely certify as well, that she had no choice but to do so.

As I noted earlier; Seawolf accepts as the truest of gospel, that the justifiable vitriol she has earned, beyond reproach, is not the debris drawn in by the mental magnetism of her arrogant idiocy, but is instead; “the malicious machinations of select persons who, for some oddly never-named but always broadcast reason, are just envious of her”, which no matter how you look at it, is wretchedly pathetic, even at its best.

Once again Ruth, NOBODY IS JEALOUS OF YOU,  REGARDLESS OF WHATEVER THE VOICES IN YOUR VACUOUS HEAD SCREAM AT YOU.. I know this comes as a terrible shock to you, given your gift for supreme unawareness, but keep in mind, I say this as someone who’s spent a good amount of time mocking you incessantly, if only to amuse myself at your expense, which thus far, has worked out brilliantly whereas my sense of Zen is concerned…

To be brutally honest, it’s not that you’re the best or the most interesting gladiator in my pixilated coliseum of conservative cray-cray that I oversee, it’s just that you’re so goddamn insane, you’ve managed to far outpace the others in your spit-for-brains squad in regards to my inherent snarkiness manifesting itself as an ongoing writing project. Think of it as a simple case of the last prat standing, and you’ll understand where I’m coming from, and why you’re such an asset to what I do to expand my metaphorical creative space.

And as for your claim of others being “intimidated” by you? Well, taking into account that you tend to overreact to most situations as if you were Leatherface who’s just been gifted with a brand-new chainsaw and a passkey to a woman’s college sorority, I can understand why that is seemingly the general consensus of most persons in regards to this community of mine that you so continually harass.

I say “mine” because its become fairly obvious that you’re a blight upon it, not a bright spot within it, and when the blessed day finally arrives in which we as a town, metaphorically nail you to a crucifix constructed from your own hubris and cart you off to wherever destination where such a waste of skin and organs should find itself, Silver City itself, can finally enjoy a moment of relief, if not the satisfaction of a long-overdue job well-done.

Sure, I may not be a psychologist by any means, but when it comes to defining the parameters of your mental health, I am quite comfortable in openly declaring that you’re crazier than a late-stage syphilitic, afflicted with mad-cow disease. My sincerest apologies by the way, to both Syphilis and medically-challenged cows, for unlike Ruth, I know it’s really not your fault, and therefore, beyond your control.

With no due respect, the only individual that I see trying to intimidate people in my otherwise tranquil little hamlet via their access to a cabal of flying cafeteria Christian flunkies, is you, my walking example of what happens when a never-opened Bible inbreeds with a rice cake that failed community college… twice.

And no, I am never going to apologize for that comparison, because when we get right down to the three nails, you are perhaps, the worst example of the teachings of Jesus being into practice, since the assembling of the production team that gave us the 80’s Christian-themed hair-metal abomination that was known as Stryper.

On some level, we have only ourselves to blame for these succubae clad in spandex, and the sooner we just accept that, the sooner we can get over our equally crippling shame regarding Vanilla Ice. However, I would point out yet again, that a truly confident person, wouldn’t feel the need to continually post these sentiments reminiscent of a line of failed Christian greeting cards, if they actually believed the inferences therein to be true in the first place.

Case in point? Yet another example of Seawolf pointlessly creating drama where none existed initially, and then, after being fittingly held to task for her sociopathic pettiness, directing her unwarranted ire at an innocent, by wrapping herself in the mantle of undeserved persecution that she wears as if it were a sports bra, or as is more apt in her case, a girdle of narcissistic necessity.

Before I delve into the exact context and definitive narrative of what truly happened, let’s peruse this nugget of nattering, where Seawolf’s stereotypical passive-aggressive mewling of being allegedly traumatized by nothing less than quite possibly, the least professional person she’s ever met, enlightens us all in regards to her true maturity, or more precisely, her complete lack of it:
In my ever so humble opinion, there’s no better way to assert to the world entire, that you’re a rational adult, than by immediately taking to your social media accounts as if you were a sullen tween, so that you can whine about the sheer injustice of being minorly inconvenienced, am I right? Especially when there was no need to do so in the first place, as I will hopefully prove,

Now, after that first session of unnecessary online pearl-clutching, where literally every detail of whom Seawolf was complaining about was made public, via her time-tested technique of vague inference, you would think that would be the end of it, but you’d be eleven herbs and spices of dead wrong, because as I’ve shown over the course of several related screeds, using nothing save for her own public declarations, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is ever Ruth’s fault:

I will eventually shine a critical light as to why this delusionally optimistic view of hers borders on the edge of barely contained blasphemy, but before I do that, let’s enjoy this additional moronic martini, if only to see just how far Seawolf is willing to distort truth in order to salve her oversensitive ego:

Let’s recap, if we can, what supposedly happened according to the kook that is Ruth- a local confectionery company named “Sugar High” dared to allegedly disrespect Ruth and her ever so valuable time, by daring to ask her for a key, in order to certify that the event hall that they rented, would be made secure after said event was over, if I happen to be reading between the lines of her original gripe correctly, and I’m sure that I am.

Rather thna just simply keeping her sense of offense to herself, she then goes on to further inflame the situation that she originated, by hypocritically kvetching about how the company she maligned online for no reason, was (GASP!) defending themselves against her unprovoked attack. Citing alleged “attempts” of boycotts with no evidence provided, (of course) she continues to play her “I’m the real victim here” card, as if it were the singular one in a gambit deck that she’s been dealing from the bottom of for years, if some of what I’ve been told, is even half-true.

For those of you paying attention, Seawolf struck first. After getting her sand-laden panties in a bunch, she went online for no other reason than the fact that she mainlines self-invented drama much in the way that John Belushi once did speedballs, and after giving enough veiled details regarding who she was slandering at the time, now feigns offense at the very idea that she’s being called onto the community’s carpet to answer for it.

The nerve. After all, isn’t she the victim here? Of course, she is. How could she not be? I only wish to point out that as it is her narrative, the mere suggestion that anyone should challenge its authenticity, can only be perceived as offensive, regardless of what witnesses and reality say in defiance of her obviously cherry-picked take on the imaginary feud that she alone, fomented into existence.  

And when you factor in that Sugar High was forced to make their Facebook business page private, due to licentious attacks by Seawolf, as well as her minions, it becomes even more crystalline regarding who’s really at fault here, and it sure as hell isn’t the lady choosing to make cookies over chasing imaginary enemies, that’s for goddamn sure. But just don’t take my words of sardonicism as proof of this concept, for as it is with all things contentious, the truth of such usually falls somewhere in the middle.

To that measure, I add this- the direct screenshots of the so-called “unprofessional” conversation that Seawolf felt compelled to share with the pathetic populace that inhabits her wretched sphere of ignorant influence. And in a twist that was totally expected, it doesn’t present itself in quite the same way that Ruth claimed it did. I know, I know, I was genuinely shocked too, given her penchant for brutal honesty. And that last sentence boys and girls, is exactly why Microsoft Word needs to add a “sarcastic” font.

As always, I won’t speak for you, but does anyone whose brain actually works as nature intended, truly regard SH’s responses to Seawolf’s immediate curtness as unprofessional? From the start, Ruth acknowledges that she had no clue that the key was supposed to be passed on, despite her long-term association with the event hall’s administration, but now SH is the one to solely blame for this minor logistical snafu?

Interesting interpretation of reality as usual, Ruth.

This does raise the question of just why Seawolf thought that any facet of this rather benign exchange merited a Vaguebook rant, when the simple act of grousing about her time being impugned to her dinner companions, was all that it might have merited. You know… like a normal person would do? But hey, you can’t really play the victim without a captive audience, and mythical Lord knows, Seawolf just loves to orate to the situational hostages that make up her Facebook friends list.

Another point that I found interesting, is that even though Seawolf was at dinner in another city adjacent to Silver City, SH’s request for her to drop off the key, and that, obviously when it was convenient, was far from the rudest of impositions that Seawolf alleged it was, given the general proximity of said respective townships, as evidenced by this Google Maps screenshot:

Seventeen minutes. That’s all. And if Seawolf was willing to meet SH’s representative even half way, she’d be absent from her dinner for the grand sum of twenty minutes, or simply dropped off the key after she was done shoveling food into that mewling maw she wittily refers to as a mouth. But no, SH was the one lacking professionalism here, along with being, and I quote; “mean”, as well.

You read that right, the modifier was “mean”. This, from a woman who slanders and threatens people left and right, all while hiding behind a rapidly decaying facade of faux Christianity and supposed community support. JFC, Ruth- I know you’re chronologically easing into your low 60’s, but seriously…just  how f**king old are you really? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d suggest your parents get you some much-needed anger management counseling before you’re allowed to enter pre-school.

And in what I can only assume is a sheer coinky-dink, it turns out that much like Seawolf, SH also holds events that help benefit the exceedingly small business community in my town, thereby in essence, serving as a direct challenge to Seawolf’s attempted stranglehold on such dealings. I’m certain that fact has played no part whatsoever in how Ruth decided to deal with the situation that she created out of conceited inanity, but Time will tell, I guess.

As I said… sheer coincidence, and nothing more, I’m sure. For the record, that sentence was mentally written in uppercase sarcastic font, and the moment they actually invent it, I’ll totally re-edit this section, and make it so. Nevertheless, I see no reason why Seawolf would even be sweating the merde pit that she dug with her sausage like fingers on social media, because as one of her fellow complicit cravens reminded her, “God’ was totally on her side:

This delusion, brought to you all, independent of the reality that (A) God doesn’t exist, and (B), if he did, he sure as f**k wouldn’t be backing Seawolf’s false recollection, given that whole omnipotent skillset that he once so famously journaled about. A few points I’d like to address here, if I may; first, Velda’s brain is obviously made out of Velveeta, and second, the only “ABBA FATHER” that I’m familiar with, is this guy:

… and I dare you, no, I double-dog dare you, to tell me to my face, eye to eye, that his stereotypical wardrobe, doesn’t kick the ever-living s**t out of that shapeless hummus sack that your fantastical savior dons every day, as if he were still paying for our collective original sin.

Now, if for no other reason than to maintain my reputation for being accurate, I will acknowledge that the phrase I just mocked, stems from the Aramaic word for father that was used by Jesus and Paul to address God in a relation of personal intimacy, but anytime I can throw a good ABBA-related joke into my literary mix, it stays in forever.

What also remains ostensibly unchanged, is the level of lingering fear that Seawolf has seemingly managed to percolate throughout my small community, and while this perception doesn’t have a base in her undertaking vengeful actions past exposing her masturbatory persecution complex online per se, it is widely recognized, that she’s my town’s resident wackadoo that’s best avoided whenever possible.

Granted, this unspoken edict isn’t due to Seawolf lacking the courage to do anything but screech to an otherwise empty sky, but more to the reality that the people who follow her, have quite the taste for issuing threats and ominous portents for those they believe have unjustly crossed swords with her.

I’ve covered this particular topic in previous screeds, so I won’t rehash it here, but when you take someone like Seawolf, who is the closest thing I’ve ever witnessed to being a human analog for an unbalanced and barely sentient undercooked pork-pot-pie, the notion that giving it even the merest amount of sway over a throng of feeble-minded muttonheads, based on nothing more than the futile hope that something good will come out of it, is wildly over-optimistic, to say the very least.

Don’t fully trust my take on this? Well how about these gathered remarks from random townsfolk, wherein they discuss exactly who Seawolf is truly perceived to be, as a control? For the sake of personal privacy, and to reduce the threat of possible retribution for expressing their opinions so openly, I’ve stripped away the personal information attached to these commentaries, for as the writer, the heat should be on me, and not those just trying to do the right thing.

Let me give you some insight as to what the general mood of my town typically is- it’s the kind of place where people open doors for you, compliment you, your dog, and your kids in the same breath, and if you time it right, some people will even happily let you grab the “good’ parking space at Walmart. So, when chatter like this becomes commonplace, it’s a sure sign that the collective nerve has been stepped on once too often for comfort’s sake.

Nevertheless, let’s not forget who the “real” victim is here, boys and girls, because if we do, it’s almost a certainty that she’ll start pounding on her keyboard as if she were an ape from the prologue of i2001: A Space Odyssey, until we all give her the attention she so desperately, if not pathetically, craves. I’ve heard of being addicted to drama, but I wasn’t aware that one could replace all their body fluids with it, so I guess that whole concept of “you learn something new every day” is less of an abstract, and more of a proven theorem.

Speaking of which, the last topic I’d like to dissect before I wrap this narrative up, is one that I’ve always found to be the most cravenly of Seawolf’s deflective tactics, namely the employment of possibly false claims alleging targeted persecution by unnamed others, in order to avoid shouldering her fair share of personal culpability in regards to the malicious maelstrom of disingenuousness that she directs outward towards my community at large.

Why, you may ask, would I dare disparage her oft-repeated assertions of being harassed so flippantly, you ask? Well, as a start, she’s never presented any credible evidence {more on this in a bit} to support her claims, despite a supposed and definitive pattern of such incidents, and yet, her fan club of equally paranoid pinheads, swallow these obvious lies, as if they were manna Door-Dashed from Heaven itself.

And yes, as you would expect, she was gracious enough to provide a prime example of her approach to crafting her boat of falsehoods, even though in the end, she inadvertently drills a hole in the floor of it, by showing us how the trick was done.

In retrospect, as this screenshot, taken close to two years ago during Trump’s distractors reign as Philanderer in Chief, Seawolf’s claim of unjust maltreatment, reads less like a laundry list of baseless complaints, and more of a “How I did it” study aid for future psychologists, does it not?

Other than literally admitting unknowingly to the reality that she’s the one common denominator in relation to an imaginary siege foisted by others, she also throws in quite the healthy dash of paranoia, along with her usual topping of over-dramatized deceitfulness as well.

I personally love the inclusion regarding the native-breed snake she callously (if not pointlessly) killed, serving as an emissary of intimidation, while histrionically claiming that message on the postcard, which strangely only displayed the non-addressed side, was nothing less than a “fear tactic” that somehow was “even worse”? I can only offer my sincerest kudos for her taking the most benign of random occurrences, and then turning them into Dark Side icons worthy of Darth Vader.

Not only can snakes “climb”, you delusional dingbat, they’re also running wild all over the place out here, as we live in the f**king high desert. I have owls, crows, ravens, rabbits, all manner of birds, and no less than three different species of snake that use my front and back yards as their interspecies highway, and I say this as a guy who lives in the middle of a suburban development.

But let’s start off with the postcard whose message was so speciously vile, that Seawolf, driven by no less than her inherent sense of infinite concern for the delicate sensibilities of those unknown to her, chose not to display it, because when it comes to bequeathing the knowledge of that whish is unpleasant to the community as a whole, Ruth is definitely the matron who prefers lobbing marshmallows, rather than missiles.

Unfortunately for Seawolf, but not for us however, she couldn’t help but share her disgust at the hand-scrawled memorandum present on the card’s opposite side, deciding to share it with one of her fellow whiny wackadoos on their page instead, and by doing so, finally revealed to the Web entire, exactly just what resides in the blackest of her detractors’ hearts: 

Dear God… after reading this, I honestly have no idea how I’ll ever be able to sleep without all of the lights in my bedroom turned on. The inclusion of facts, drawn from proven statistical data, with a dash of sarcasm at the end? It’s as chilling as swallowing a Peppermint Patty, while sitting nude on a commode crafted from the purest of glacial ice.

As far as “fear tactics” go, this one is so subtle in the deliverance of its terrorization, it almost comes off as possessing no threat whatsoever, which in two words, is simply brilliant. I can only speak for myself here, as I always do, but that sinister, if not overly jaunty, addition of a happy face at the end, is nothing less than a modern-day allusion to “The Five Orange Pips” as written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and if you don’t what I’m talking about, go visit your local library and ask for it.

Reading is fundamental after all, which is why modern-day conservatives are ever so keen to ban or burn the conduits of its delivery. That is, when they can’t cherry-pick a false narrative out of its ashes, of course. In regards to Seawolf’s deliberate perjury about the postcard’s context, logic should now infer that when assessing her accounting of a biblically epic tale of personal harassment, it might be prudent for all those who read it, to do so with about a pound-and-a-half of salt within reach.

And since we have so much salt just laying around in reserve, I suggest we take it all, and rub it straight into Seawolf’s self-created wounds, as consequence for having to be witness to her pathetic-as-f**k   reenactment of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf“, a beloved morality tale transcribed into existence within the pages of the Aesopica, by the slave and storyteller Aesop, who is believed to have lived in Greece during the time period between 620 and 564 BCE.

For those unfamiliar with the story, its synopsis is thus: after a young shepherd who, being lonely and fearful, decides to call for help by shouting “Wolf!”, realizing that every time he does so, the people of his town appear in droves to lend aid and comfort. Encouraged by this response based on his selfish abuse of the townspeople’s initial trust, he continues the subterfuge, until the same said people start, catching on that despite being alerted several times, no wolf is ever seemingly present at the scene.

Infuriated by this deceit, they then ignore his future cries when a wolf finally does appear, and starts to attack his flock. The obvious moral of the story, of course, is that when you’re openly regarded as a liar, there will be no forthcoming praise directed your way, even if one day, you do decide to tell the truth for once. By no means am I a betting man, but if house odds were ever placed on Ruth recalling her interpersonal dealings accurately, I’d willingly sign over my house if not my lungs, to cover the buy-in.

Let’s all recall for a moment, that Seawolf has publicly declared that she has been the needless victim of slanderous harassment, alleged attempts at boycotts, implied threats, and (GASP!) living with the horror that unnamed persons might compete with her Facebook pages, because in these violently viral times, that’s really the best way to stick it to a narcissist such as Seawolf,

And let’s not also forget, just how effectively the local wildlife has been manipulated into psychologically intimating Seawolf as well, as if they were the special operations branch overseen by rogue elements within MI6, if not Nehebkau. And yet…?

Despite her love of posting her self-created, if not selectively cherry-picked drama all over her Facebook empire of egotism, Seawolf has NEVER once, forwarded proof of any of these activities. Not one screenshot of a supposedly threatening email, text message, or so much as a snippet of harshly phrased audio. Nor has her public ever been witness to a photo of a vandalistic act waged against either her, or for that matter, any of her businesses, as well.

It can’t be just me that this strikes strange, can it? As shown, the sole attempt that she’s ever made at providing a shred of evidence to bossier her petty histrionics, turned out to be a deceitfully presented false narrative, so as to how I would address the bulk of her declarations that she’s trapped inside a cloak of concern for her general well-being, is to reference what passes as her intellect, and call it out for what it truly is…


Now, notwithstanding my cynicism, I wasn’t just going to casually sign off on Seawolf’s penchant for manifesting metaphorical wolves out of the ether provided by the voices in her head, as being able to back up what I write is a definitive requirement when dealing with persons afflicted with a persecution complex such as Ruth, but in order to do that, I would need concrete proof from a source that had no skin in the fight to begin with, if only to add the weight of validation behind what I’ve been saying.

And what form of champion is there better equipped to handle the task of establishing accuracy, than an archive of public records?  Granted, maybe only Jesus himself, but since I don’t believe in him, and I’m on an exceedingly tight budget, to begin with I’ll have to take whatever advantage I can get., To that end, I decided to start with the most logical place, that being my local police department, or to be more specific, their compiled “blotter”.

As is the case with most trades, police have their own terminology for the various components relating to their job, and the term “blotter”, is nothing more than a standard descriptive for a book that records the arrests and varied minutiae that occurs within a police station on a daily basis.

Arrests are recorded as they occur, although specific details such as name, age, and address of the suspect/person arrested, time and place of an incident, name of the officer who responded to the incident, and name of the victim/complaining person may, or may not, be excluded, depending on the legal statutes of the locality involved. What is consistent however, is the ability for the general public to access them without question and without informational limitations, save for the ones that I just noted.

So, if we were to take a skip through the pages of the blotter belonging to the Silver City PD, what would it tell us about Seawolf? Would it show a consistent pattern in regards to her assumed to be false allegations, or would it instead, vindicate her as a truly innocent victim of of personal harassment? Before I answer either question, I’d like to point out that by law, the police are required to log every single call for assistance, irrespective of whether the lodged complaint is investigated further. or not.

In ither words, every time that Seawolf has found herself allegedly threatened, and then posted on Facebook about reaching out to the police due to such an intrusion, there should be either a report, or at the very least, an notation of the incident itself, within the blotters interior. And yes, she has talked about reaching out to the cops, just in case you were wondering:

For Crywolf’s information, being reported to your employer, in this case, that being Farmers Insurance, for unprofessional if not unethical behavior, does not in any way, shape, pr form, constitute “harassment”, unless the accusations presented are slanderous, and thanks to Ruth’s obsessive posting involving her seemingly false narratives, she, ironically, is the one fueling her own degradation in the eyes of those she works for.

But do you know what actually constitutes harassment, Ruth? Labeling innocent businesses, one of which, (coincidentally) is in competition with you, as unprofessional and actively fraudulent, threatening your detractors with being on a list of supposed “enemies”, and pretending that you’re Joan of Arc being burned at the stake, when you’re called out for utilizing your fetid Facebook pages to do so, without any apparent shame, justifiable incentive, or remorseful self-reflection.

Some context, if I may? What Ruth is mewling about here, is the fact that her penchant for slandering local businesses, issuing paranoid conspiracy theories, and promoting the violation of common-sense health protocols that allegedly led to her becoming ill with COVID, was not only brought to the attention of Farmer’s customer service and human resources departments, but to her District Manager, one Kenneth Miyagishima as well.

Despite his clearly insincere insistence on offering multiple platitudes that he would soon take action regarding Crywolf’s intolerable actions and assertions, as of this writing, Miyagishima hasn’t done squawk about it, despite being served up a truckload of evidentiary data to support the complaint.

If I were a cynic, I’d suggest that this inaction may be due to knowing that the issue at hand has been sitting in his lap for over a year now, and given this knowledge, his bosses might start asking some uncomfortable questions as to just why the situation wasn’t rectified sooner, but I’ll digress for now, as the concern is currently being reviewed by the Mexico Insurance Commission, and I’m sure those people might actually have a thing or two to say, when all is said and done.

As per her SOP, Crywolf tells only the half of the story to garner undeserved sympathy, but over-delivers twice the expected bulls**t as well, because when the public records archive is examined in depth, the real tale takes precedence over Crywolf’s fabrications.

Notwithstanding some valid reports involving concerns at one of the companies she worked at, which I will address in a moment, when it comes to the issue of her personal safety or that of her reputation, there’s absolutely NO MENTION WHATSOEVER of any threats, specifically targeted vandalism, or proof of harassment via phone, email, letters, or text.

None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. ZERO.

Given the now-verified inauthenticity of her prior claims, I’d almost have-to suggest that Crywolf has managed to, and this almost transcendentally, definitively blur the line between wearing a tin-foil hat, and actually becoming one that’s ambulatory. I’m fairly confident that if this incontrovertible evidence were brought to Ruth’s attention, keeping in mind that this is only my opinion based on… well, everything she seems to represent, she’d either manufacture a rationalization on the spot, or more than likely, claim that the local police were aligned against her as well.

Which to be fair, is not really that much of a slanderous supposition, when you factor in as a whole, the myriad of fantastical fantasies she’s willingly disseminated on Facebook in the past. As noted earlier above, the police are required by law, to log every single call for assistance, irrespective of whether the lodged complaint is investigated further. or not.

This is not a case of debatable “He said / She said” when it comes to her claims of being victimized, it’s a now proven pattern of outright falsehoods crafted to cast her in the best light, without the merit of credible evidence proving that she should be so.

As you may collectively recall, she’s publicly declared that Lady GaGa is part of a Satanic blood cult that practices blood sacrifice and hurts children, that the seditionary actions occurring on January 6th were the result of insidious machinations by BLM and Antifa agents, and closed off her circle of cray-cray by bragging about how “God” once sent her a celestial sign via a receipt from Walmart, my implying that she’s nuttier than a case of Zagnut bars, seems almost genteel, if only in retrospect.

Even so, I still must ask the elephant in the room the only question that needs to be answered in relation to the issue at hand, and it is this: Is Crywolf lying though her f**king teeth as usual, or is she just so goddamn arrogantly stupid, that she truly believes that nobody knows that she is? While I’m not a fan of dissemblers by any stretch of their imagination, I will admit a slightly begrudging respect for the ones who are actually good at it, unlike our cafeteria Christian cry-wolfer here.

You would think after years of allegedly practicing her bitchcraft, she’d be somewhat competent in presenting it to an uninterested public, but you’d be wrong. Not as wrong as Ruth’s stereotypical take on politics, gender identity, racial concerns, cultural movements, personal responsibility, or the actual lessons to be learned from her imagined saviors’ teachings, to be sure, but still pretty damn close, nonetheless.

As showcased earlier, Crywolf does appear in the SCPD blotter, under her Christian name of Seawolf, but because I believe in the purity of calling a histrionic twit a histrionic twit, I’d suggest that in the future, we all should use the moniker I bestowed upon her, in order to make the time we have to spend debunking and mocking yet another one of her farcical tales of terror mad flesh, that much more rewarding.

While Crywolf has posted a litany of claims minus any proof, in regards to perceived and alleged threats for quite some time now, the archived register of such events, fails to provide even the merest of solidarity for her stories to stand on- I’m sure there’s just an error in bookkeeping, rather than her being a disingenuous liar, because as we’ve seen, truthfulness is most definitely, one of her strongest [personal attributes.

The first incident to be found within the official record, was an act of grand larceny committed against the real estate company that Ruth was affiliated with, and involved the theft of a bank deposit bag from the premises. Other than the fact that some genius left it (and close to a thousand dollars in deposits) in an unlocked drawer, there’s no direct connection whatsoever to any of Crywolf’s seemingly manufactured drama, nor was the theft itself indirectly witnessed either, as the business in question, had no video surveillance system in place at the time…

The subsequent incidents that occurred, and I might add, indecently of each other, were two similarly themed acts of minor criminal damage, namely, a singular broken window, one at Ruth’s workplace, and the second, at a residence she was acting as the broker for. In neither case, was there any secondary evidence that suggested that Crywolf was the intended victim of specifically targeted harassment, nor has any proof been discovered since, that supports the same conclusion.

So, what does all of this supplementary data indicate to us as a whole?

Easy answer- either (A) Crywolf is an out and out master of spreading a reconstructed and delusional Truth, or (B) there’s an insidious plot, guided by no less than the hands of Satan, that involves the citizenry of Silver City, its local constabulary, an as yet unnamed atheist cabal determined to keep her from dispensing the Gospel of Gullibility, to her equally as intellectually vapid fan club of complicit cravens

And in a twist of narrative that no one saw coming, save for her future overworked psychologists, agents of either the Deep State, the New World Order, or even possibly, the Antichrist himself, have collectively decided, for no particular reason at all, to waste their valuable time and energy screwing with a woman who presents herself as if she were a Christian Fembot as seen within the pages of a Hobby Lobby catalog.

Yeah… that makes sense, right? Regardless of what I may believe to be the truth, based on, and bolstered by, no less than Crywolf’s publicly posted words and actions, if one of their own volitions decides to undertake an in-depth evaluation of what Crywolf has claimed, and what reality itself has actually proven in opposition to such, I’m fairly confident that in the end, their supposition of Seawolf’s culpability for the continual drama storm swirling around her, will be equal to my own.

However, since Ruth also declares her devotion to a faith whose spiritual context she fails to either grasp or emulate, and one that she has so arrogantly weaponized into a cudgel if not a shield, I felt that the only way to end this screed, was with this apt snippet from 6:16-19 of Proverbs: “There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.”

For most of us, it remains to be seen what happens when we shuffle off the mortal coil to face the supposed final  judgement of what I perceive as no more than an ignorant myth, but if his veracity of being does turn out to be true, odds are roughly 50/50 as to where I may wind up, due to the fact that both sides have legitimate claim, but as to Ruth’s celestial fate, given her actions on earth?

Well, if I were forced to be brutally honest, deep down in my gut, I’m thinking that Ruth should probably stock up on an eternal supply of Aloe Vera, because that whining wench is most definitely going to require it. But who knows? Maybe God will bless her with some of that infinite grace she supposedly admires so much, but never dispenses herself.

As I wrap this up, I see the clock has struck five past midnight, and for now at least, it’s time to put my claws back in their box, and grab some well-deserved shut-eye. And when I come back, I’ll take an absurd detour into the gift shop of Wackadoo World, and discover that the best conspiracy-themed tchotchkes are still made right here in the good ol’ USA.

“Karma comes after everyone eventually. You can’t get away with screwing people over your whole life, I don’t care who you are. What goes around comes around. That’s how it works. Sooner or later the universe will serve you the revenge that you deserve.” – Jessica Brody, The Karma Club