Thursday, January 19, 2006

They's Some CRRRRRAAAAAZZZYYYY Peoples Out There...

I know, I'm one of them.

Seriously though, there's crazy and then there's just nucking futs. Some peepz is just a few porn stars short of a daisy chain, you know?

I introduced you to Loretta and the Fucktardians, an epic battle similar to Cromwell's Roundheads vs... my English history fails me. You get the idea, though. I told you about Pajamas Media and its many delightful brands of oatmeal-flavored oatmeal, and how the blogosphere outside PM has hovered over the heads of the bloglebrities heading the thing and pooped like so many enraged and virus-filled grackles.

Now there's popular bloggers and the bloggers who kind of, um, stalk them.

First let's deal with an issue you might see pop up here from time to time.

A long time ago, in an internet far, far away, your buddy loki started blogging. His first blog and template were some of the ugliest, busiest, craziest shit you've ever seen. Rapidly, lokster tired of the criticisms heaped upon his lowly template by his adoring fans, and he realized something -- on the web, functionality, grace, intuitive use all matter.

Part and parcel of Google's thundering titanic success as it daily dominates the web? Simplicity and ease of use, bitches. You may not remember the interfaces for some of the competing search engines before Google began to punk everyone else, but loki does, and let me tell you, they all saw what was going down really fast, and stepped to.

Loki picked this here template for one reason only -- it was functional, easy to look at, and didn't get in the fucking way. Okay?

What I'm getting at it is this, friends -- if your blog is uglier than dogshit, well, I'm just gonna say so here. The sad thing about that is occasionally a really piss-poor eye for feng shui de web may accompany a remarkably well-tuned writer's voice. I can suffer through that, but not too often.

Just to make everyone feel better, I will tell you right off that no one I will criticize either now or in the future can ever come close to the vast, yawning, shambling horror that is profiles tend to reach a horrific new depth of awfulness when it comes to peepz "Pimping Out" their pages.

Let's see... Pimps -- flashy. Long purple suede overcoats with ermine collars and white leather fedoras. Bejeweled sunglasses even at night, a cigarette in a holder and a completely unnecessary cane with carved golden rottweiler head on the top. That's the pop-culture image of the pimp. Well, when some of those kids at go a-pimpin', they REALLY go a-pimpin', in the web design sense of things. They take the average young person's savvy about html and css and proceed to royally fuck with the browser of every visitor with two too many files in their internet cache forever afterwards. God love 'em. For the sophisticated surfer, is easily always the worst experience one can have, aesthetically speaking.

What the hell was I talking about? Oh, yeah -- nutjobs stalking bloggers. Really, this all connects, somehow.

Think that shit don't happen? It do.

People will be inspired to start a blog of their own, and then make entries in it detailing sexual fantasies about the blogger who inspired them.

Some bloggers embrace this element in their readers and make it work for them -- Glenn Reynolds, the Instapundit, has "blog children." Glenn is still alive and well, so his approach seems to work, and he is the Big Dog, after all, no matter how boring his blog actually is.

The stalking that inspired this entry appears to be happening to a guy named Dan Riehl. It has been speculated elsewhere that yours truly is Mr. Riehl, or a buddy of his who blogs about things criminal, a Mr. Huff.

Just keep playing that "Price is Wrong, Bitch," play-off theme music in your head, cause the score and that guessing game so far is wrong, and wronger. Yes, I'm a fairly-experienced blogger, but what makes anyone think that Loki isn't doing this just to see what real blog traffic is like? Maybe. The two guys I've seen mentioned as someone's guesses at possibly being the little man behind the curtain of Loki are very comfortable with their blog traffic, from what I've seen. If they ain't, something's wrong with 'em.

That said, yours truly did become aware through various channels that Dan Riehl, who has sometimes outpaced Michelle Malkin and Andrew Sullivan in blog traffic, has at least one problem blogger nipping at his heels like a rabid chihuahua, so I figgered I'd just have a look-see.

First there's the "Carnivorous Conservative."

Dan is just some dude from up north somewhere, as far as I can tell. He has a background in journalism, but appears to do his real work in the business world in some manner. Like Steve Huff, Dan apparently snagged what I assume is a paying gig from his blogging, at The Internet Crime Library.

Dan's generally political, looks like a conservative with slashes of social liberalism in his makeup. He also writes a lot about pretty missing white girls and people gettin' killed in bad ways. Riehl made his blogging fame off the still-missing corpse of Natalee fucking Holloway. Don't think he meant to, it just seemed that Holloway's disappearance from Aruba in the spring of 2005 was the beginning of a terrible thing for her family and friends, and a great thing for some bloggers.

So Dan got a following all his own. A cult of Riehlians who post ad nauseam in his comments. Among their number are some pretty sharp and perceptive folks, and Dan is a mensch about acknowledging that sometimes it isn't him who breaks news or comes up with something ahead of the "mainstream" press, but his commenters. One wonders why some of them don't just go blog themselves, but I doubt Riehl will look that gift horse in the mouth -- I wouldn't.

Dan's kind of cranky, but what conservative isn't? He generally seems to tell it like it is, though I suspect he's posted a couple of times with a shot of Cutty in one hand and an evil chuckle in his throat. He seems a good egg, and pleasantly humbled by how widely-read he is, at least in the blogging sense of things. (Here's an eye-opener for you -- what a blogger would consider kick-ass traffic, say, 15,000 readers a day, would be the most suck-ass ratings in history for a TV show. That should give one perspective on just how awesomely popular this whole blogging thing is.)

Dan's had his run-ins with other bloggers, I saw from his archives. One was Michelle Malkin, who actually has posted more than once in Dan's comments herself. The run-in seemed to involve Saddam Hussein, a porno movie, and 220 lbs. of vanilla pudding, or something, but it also appeared to blow over quickly (I was only making one of those three things up, you guess which one). Pretty sure Dan had some sort of contretemps with Ms. Loretta Serrano/Dillon/Something as well, perhaps because she was jealous of the popularity of Dan's blog when the Holloway case was all the rage.

What makes the Loki sympathetic to Mr. Riehl is that though the man is widely-read and though he is obviously prone to get his crank on unexpectedly, he seems to have kept his head. Some bloggers get a little "fan following" and become megalomaniacal fucktards, others run screaming and hide like they're J. D. fucking Salinger jonesing for a lukewarm cup o' pee because they seem to have actually thought all this was private. Idiots.

Riehl has kept his blog's template resolutely the same, he's written about whatever the fuck he wanted to, including most recently porn movies containing Colin Ferrell's prodigious and pale member spearing the cocoa skin of a certain Playboy Playmate. He kind of does his thing and if you read, well that's cool with him.

It seems it was the Holloway mystery that brought someone stalking Dan's way.

Meet the crazy fucker or fuckette currently playing Glenn Close to Dan's bewildered Michael Douglas --

This person either wants to screw Dan or kill him, or screw him then kill him, I'm not sure. One thing is for sure, whoever writes seedyrum"musings snipes at Dan-o whenever possible. Like this:

"...[O]nline routine news reporting doesn't generate enough revenue to pay anything. Super-hot stories do - I imagine that if Dan had monetized his blog, the Natalee Holloway story would have made him quite a bit. The quantity of super-hot stories is (fortunately, in the long-term view) limited. ( Dan Riehl is full of crap. He wouldn't know truth if it walked up and slapped the taste out of his mouth)."

If you found that hard to follow, don't feel bad. Right there is cue number 1 that Dan Riehl's hatah (that's "hater" for you un-schooled folks out there), is seedy and probably over-indulging in quite a bit of rum, or just flat-out nuts. Each entry is nothing but a big block of undelineated text, and fortunately perhaps for Dan, that shit is really hard to read for more than one blog entry.

Here's another sample that bears explaining -- it looks like seedyrum took quotes from Dan's active comments section, so the names you will see are the people quoted. This is a good example of kook-ism in the blogosphere, this lack of formatting text -- though real text is used and what is said makes a sort of sense, the lack of formatting and inserting of comments by the blogger with no paragraph breaks lets you know you're reading the equivalent of the quietly crazy person you passed in Wal-Mart last night who mutters obscenely the moment they can't find what they want in the electronics department. Obscenely, but distinctly:

"Posted by: Jennifer Cannon Monday, January 16, 2006 at 11:05 PM Trust are not missing anything. She has nothing new to add either. I do enjoy playing "Where in the World is Beth Twitty" every night though. She was on the set with Greta, so I guess DC tonight. Posted by: pathenry Monday, January 16, 2006 at 11:12 PM Nothing new to add and yet she's there...this is probably going to be remembered as one of the low points in cable news. The sacrifice of integrity for sensationalism. Posted by: Jennifer Cannon Monday, January 16, 2006 at 11:16 PM So true. I could not believe tonight with the journal going over crap that has been debunked. I don't get Greta. Guess it is all ratings to her. No sense of professionalism. Posted by: gagal_05 Monday, January 16, 2006 at 11:18 PM Although these names represent three "different" persons they all sound like Dan Riehl..."

Now I am the Knight Who Says, "Duh." It doesn't occur to our pal seedyrum in their sad and overheated brain that in the blogosphere, the tendency is to go talk to bloggers you identify with. Not always, but it's a basic truism, and the best argument that such a statement is true can be found by referring you back to Glenn Reynolds's "blog children [of the corn.]."

Hey, you know what? Even if those three folks were Dan Riehl... so?

The problem appears to be this -- Dan Riehl covered Natalee Holloway's disappearance very closely. More than once, he was ahead of the mainstream news, even though they were hot on the case themselves. What happened was this -- somewhere late in the summer of 2005, Dan Riehl realized that the whole thing was way-over-hyped media filler bullshit. Even if the Kalpoes and dutch kid Joran van der Slut-er-Sloot were guilty, there was simply not enough of a case against the bastards to whip this dead horse any longer. It's the real world, and some mysteries don't get solved. If the evidence isn't there, van der Sloot is free to go to Holland and date-rape himself silly (as opposed to all that good lovin' he'd receive in the Aruban lock-up), and the Kalpoes are free to do... uh, whatever it is Kalpoes do. Dan was pissed. He was pissed at the media machine, as embodied by Greta van Susteren on Fox, in particular, for the way they used Holloway to churn out ratings, and reading back through Dan's old entries, it looks like he was pissed at himself for falling into the trap. Ever since, his coverage of the Holloway case has been uniformly negative towards the American view of it (damned Dutch kid and those foreign boys kilt that girl), how our media pounced on it, how certain news outlets in Aruba (Jossy Mansur, heart attack #73 is just around the corner, bro), flayed it alive, and how Beth Holloway Twitty, Natalee's perenially pink-faced Mom, became a media darling, of a sort.

Funny thing is, Dan is allowed to change his mind, though a careful read of his blog does make it seem it was a bit of a hairpin turn, and also, it sure-damn looks like seedyrum or someone with a similar axe to grind was after Dan's ass before he did a u-turn and decided the whole story was an unfortunate load of bullshit, and peepz had totally forgotten about pretty little Natalee, who was the most important part of the whole deal, anyways. I wasn't able to find it again, but in the summer I recall coming across something that was about Aruba, and appeared to have been begun just to compete with Dan's blog.

Point being, for seedyrum or whoever, this ain't about Natalee Holloway, either -- it's about trying to knock a popular blogger off what they perceive as a perch they deserve. If you don't think such ad-hominem blogging is totally about whining like that, you're wrong.

In its way, that's just stalking, yo. That means seedyrum is nuts. If you think it's perfectly okay for them to sissy-slap at Dan Riehl as much as they do, well you're right -- it is their perogative. But it's nearly all they do. Seedyrum tries to muse about crime in the news, and what-not, but they seem to come back to Riehl, sooner or later.

This probably bugs Riehl, but if he ever reads this, I'd simply say -- did you look at the blog, Dan? There is something just retarded going on there. There is no organization, for one thing. Anyone with an ounce of sense about web design would immediately write off the outsized font, the links tossed at the bottom of the page like fast-food wrappers piled in the passenger compartment of a rusted-out hoopty. You can't possibly take such a blog seriously. You can pity the whackjob who manages to totter into the library long enough from their daily appointment with pissing in the street to create such a thing, and move on, pondering the meaning of crazy babbling online just as you might do if you hear it as you pass an alley downtown. It's kind of hard to take a bum seriously when they call you a fucking idiot, especially since they could very well just be talking to the voices in their heads.

So, some would call seedyrum vs. Riehlworldview a blogging feud, I just call it sad, on the seedy one's part. The only thing Dan Riehl can do that makes sense is ignore it. And maybe make sure he has a burglar alarm installed and carries a piece at all times.

What about you, Loki? I mean, dis here blog be all 'bout fuckin' wit peepz.

I done told you I was crazy, aight?

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Pajamas Motherfucking Media

Wow, I'm so late to the game on this one, but it's easily the most wide-ranging and hilarious feud out there in the blogosphere --

Pajamas Motherfucking Media vs. Goddamned Near Everyone Else.

That's right, friends, it's the biggest festival de sissy-slapping to hit the blogosphere, and it's been going on for a wee bit.

Where to start? Loki doesn't like his blog entries to go on and on, and as fun as this is, it also just gets irritating if I keep at it for too long.

Loki has always had a problem with men who wear hats. Now, Loki, being a dude himself, will occasionally don the old ballcap to head out into the elements here at Castle Lightbringer, and this is an understandable thing. It isn't just a dude thing to do, after all; who hasn't seen some cute chick in a ballcap with a perky ponytail jutting out the back and thought it was, uh... cute?

But there is a certain class of men who make "the hat" their thing. Like, it becomes a symbol of who they fucking are.

An anecdote that reveals absolutely nothing about your lively light-bringing host, now.

About 18 years or so ago... Two of my bestest-estest friends at the time were two brilliant and eclectic ladies of (sort-of) color. I say sort-of because Haley (not her real name) had a red-headed green-eyed all-American/Irish-looking Maw and a Paw from Guyana. The resulting mix was this utterly gorgeous and striking person who no one could ever peg ethnically, and the moment they got to know her, they could care less. She's now a playwright, actress, and impresario. The other friend, Lana (ditto on the name), also had a totally white-bread momma and an upper-caste Indian daddy. She came out equal parts Irish mystic and Indian proto-goddess. She is now a professional in the film industry.

Being about as studly as they come at the time, Loki would be sure to hang with these fine ladeez at every opportunity. It was all friendly though, and Lokster still has fond memories more of the clever witticisms traded than the makeout sessions. (Not tellin' anymore there, either, HAH!)

Haley and Lana took me to a film festival held yearly at a major University. Artsy-types galore were there, festooned in their artsy glory. Hob-nobbing in the lobby, the trio met up with a goateed gentleman known to Haley, if I recall correctly. This was before every other dude and their mom had a goatee, when having a goatee was still art-y as opposed to redneck.

Some sort of inane conversation ensued, and while Loki did not participate much, having long ago learned that one finds out much more through listening and watching than talking themselves, I (I will continually switch between first and third person. Just deal with it and think of Seinfeld, and "Jimmy's" shoes, or something), did become fixated on the graying gentleman's hat.

As goateed gent sauntered away -- and this fucker really did saunter -- I reflected on the inane and on his part pompous conversation just witnessed, did mental math incorporating the fucking hat, which I swear to Odin and all his Valkyries was a mother-freaking raspberry beret (the kind you find in a second-hand store), and gray goatee's pomposity, and said to my lady friends, "Next time, can I slap that silly fucking beret off his head?"

Loki has since worn a cowboy hat once or twice, a top-hat (don't ask), and plenty of knit caps and ballcaps, but never, ever, ever worn a freaking beret. My female friends in this story laughed for the rest of the night about this, because they felt, I guess, I'd just nailed that asshole's complete phoniness. I know I felt I'd seen right through the fucker.

Which brings me to Roger L. Simon.

Roger isn't the only light behind the snapping and popping, slowly-shorting-out sign on the marquee that is Pajamas Media, but my own perception is that Roger is likely the leading light. Witness this blog entry of Roger's from 2004:

I have noticed that some are casting aspersion on bloggers for working in their pajamas. I cannot tell a lie. I often do it. I also wrote screenplays for Warner Brothers, Universal and Twentieth Century Fox in my pajamas (do I have to give the money back?) and books for Simon & Schuster and Random House.

I could go on... but I think you get the point...

So hat-boy took notice in September, 2004. Jump ahead to April, 2005:

Charles Johnson, Marc Danziger and I have been sneaking around over the last few months, trying to turn blogs into a business. We have enlisted some others with names familiar to you with the intention of working in two areas - aggregating blogs to increase corporate advertising and creating our own professional news service.

With respect to advertising, we do not wish to go into competition with Henry Copeland's BlogAds, which we fully support. (Some of us even have them!) We are working on another model that will sell ads en masse, not blog-by-blog. We expect this model to go live within a few weeks.

As for the Blog News Service, a lot of work needs to be done and a lot of questions answered. An editorial board consisting of Glenn Reynolds, PowerLine, Lawrence Kudlow, Hugh Hewitt, Marc Cooper, Wretchard of the Belmont Club and Tim Blair, as well as the founders, is already in place with other bloggers in many countries having signed on as contributors.

This is no way meant to be exclusive. We invite you all to join us...

Er, yeah. Sure, guys.

So peeps did join. Da hype machine done kicked in. Back to hat-boy's blog, April 30, 2005:

Response to Pajamas Media on the part of the blogosphere has been extraordinary with well over a hundred blogs already fully signed up (not to mention some 150 milblogs via Greyhawk) and more coming in every few minutes. Besides the US, countries involved as of this writing are UK, Australia, Canada, Iraq, Egypt, Israel, Netherlands, Italy, Spain, Germany, France, Sweden, India and Malaysia with inquiries from as far away as Bengla Desh. (Well, Malaysia is pretty far.)

The number of monthly unique visitors this adds up to is as yet indeterminate, but should form the nucleus of a rather large advertising network.

Well, that sounded rather nifty. Ooohhh, money for blogging and the chicks for free. Hat-boy with his pleasant, "I work in Hollywood and you don't" smirk was just so happy.

A digression, now. Sorta.

Meet Dennis the Peasant. Dennis is, um, repressed. Let him explain it:

It must have been some time back in mid-2003 that I started visiting Roger’s blog. I liked what I saw, and liked even more the fact that he chose to write a post praising the first comment I made there. Flattery can get you somewhere with me. Anyway, I became a regular at Roger’s site and ended up, in rather short order, as a regular commenter. And, as I am less than completely shy and retiring, I also ended up, and also in rather short order, as one of the site’s more fearsome Fool Killers (Iowahawk described me as a “comment section samurai”, which is probably as accurate as anything I could think of). Over the course of time Roger and ended up passing a few private emails back and forth, but we never had any meaningful contact with each other.

Some time in July or early August of 2004, Roger wrote a post lamenting the fact that he was getting all sorts of traffic at his site, but that it wasn’t making him any money. Well, that aroused the businessman’s curiosity in me, and I sent him a private email asking if he would mind telling me what his expenses and revenues where. He responded quite graciously by sending me the details what his site cost to start and run, and what he was making from BlogAds. After seeing the numbers, I emailed him my condolences and the rather offhand comment that there should be some better way of transforming his site traffic into advertising revenues. For me, that was that. I wasn’t blogging, so it was all an academic exercise to me.

I had basically forgotten all about it when about a week later (I’m working from memory here...all the documents relating to this are archived and at my attorney’s office) I received an email from Roger with the heading of “A Modest Proposal”. In a nutshell, Roger was offering to pay me a direct commission for any advertising or sponsorships I could rustle up for his site. It was an interesting proposal, but not a particularly practical one: I’m a C.P.A. working in public accounting as a sole practitioner, and therefore am less than completely well versed in the ways of the advertising industry. I informed Roger of my complete lack of qualifications for such a task, and then offered a proposal of my own: Let’s see if we can develop a business model that would allow us to bring advertising (and advertising revenues) to bloggers in a manner more sophisticated than BlogAds. Then he could have his cake and eat it, too (...)

By October we had progressed far enough to feel the need for a face-to-face meeting. It made sense to all of us that I should fly to L.A. rather than to have Roger and Charles fly to Columbus. So I ended up spending one mid-October weekend in Hollywood with Roger and Charles. We met for dinner on Friday and got down to business at Roger’s house on Saturday. That day was passed brainstorming at the dining room table. The critical spark came from Sheryl Longin/Simon’s description of a clothing retailer’s web site that she found interesting. Within two hours, Roger, Sheryl and I had worked out, in only the broadest of senses, the idea that we would use to sell advertising on the internet. Charles showed up in the afternoon (evidently his bike rides wait for no man) and we began quizzing him over the technical aspects of what we wanted to do. Sometime that afternoon Roger came up with the name of our venture: Tulip Advertising.

We spent Sunday refining our ideas and figuring out how much it would cost us (the guess then was $25,000). To keep costs down, I was tasked with recruiting artistic and legal talent who would be willing to work on spec. Rocco and I were to start developing the system we would use to sell advertising firms and corporations on the concept of advertising through Tulip. Roger and Charles were going to develop contacts with various prominent bloggers, as well as explore the infrastructure requirements necessary to make Tulip work. I flew back to Columbus that evening.

The next two months, through mid-December, were very busy. Rocco and I were learning just how little we knew about the advertising industry and large-scale advertising in general. Roger and Charles continued to work the blogosphere, quizzing people and gathering ideas and feedback. In early December we all agreed it was time to incorporate, so I had my attorney draft incorporation papers. In them ownership was divided evenly between the four of us. Rocco and I signed them and sent them off to Roger. And that’s when everything started to Go South (...)

May was not a good month. These were some of the things I got to do:

1. Tell my wife the business I’d spent half and year and thousands of dollars on had been cut out from under me by my “partners”...
2. Tell my father, a successful businessman and multimillionaire, of my great success when he asked how Tulip Advertising was going...
3. Tell Rocco, a business associate I like and respect, that the business venture I had invited him into had ended with him getting screwed out of 25% of the company that had been promised to him by myself, Roger and Charles...
4. Tell a lawyer and graphic designer, both personal friends, that I’d asked to do Tulip Advertising projects on spec so Roger and Charles could forego putting up cash, what had happened and offer to pay them out of my pocket for what they were due...

As it was clear to me within weeks that Roger had no intention of involving me in Pajamas Media, I gathered up the emails, letters, and documents and hauled them to my lawyer’s office and asked a simple question: Do I sue them? He came back this an answer and some advise: A successful lawsuit would be difficult and expensive, and the advise was to let it drop. It was wise council and I took it... for the time being.

It wasn’t until Roger’s little dust-up with Ann Althouse in late July/early August that I roused myself to comment on Dennis The Peasant about my experience with Pajamas Media. Given that my site traffic was around 200 page views a day, and that I didn’t really say all that much (it’s the first in the ‘Ragging on Roger Simon’ category, by the way), I promptly forgot about it. Well, somehow that post got to Roger L. Simon, because the following Sunday morning there he was on the telephone, asking me why I had done what I had and telling me how deeply hurt he was that I could do such a thing to him. He went on to state how much it hurt him that I had forsaken our friendship...

Sorry for all the lengthy quotesmanship, but Dennis is kinda fun once he gets started. Makes your host here look level-headed and nice. Long and short of it is the PJM gang was screwing people over from the start, according to Dennis the Peasant.

He handled his oppression well. Obviously angry and obsessed, but really fucking funny, most of the time.

Then PJM goes to ground for a wee bit, and suddenly, at roll-out, they have a different name. Really brilliant business move there, folks. Hat-boy Simon had been floating the whole pajamas line of hokum for a year, and when they came out in December of 2005, they were "Open-Source Media."

Oops. (Makes little girl in trouble face, pursed lips, hand to mouth, eyes wide).

The problem was, for the "grassroots" bloggerama of regular joes (like a Hollywood screenwriter and mystery novelist was ever one of those), they went corporate. Some branding idiot gave them the Tony Robbins treatment or something, they all high-fived, put on their cute little Roger L. Simon hats, and said, "uh, yeah boss, we's open-source media."

Immediately that was turned by blogosphere wags like our buddy Dennis into "Open Sores Media."

I love that shit. Just one example of anti-PJM/OSM/PM whatever reaction from the amusingly acidic blog, Go Flock Yourself:

Apparently sucking shit isn’t Open Sores Media’s only problem.

This is so high school
The “Certain Thing”

Read these two posts on an interesting web 2.0 tale of lies, deceit, and possibly even murder!

If that wasn’t retarded enough for you, read this.

Update: Whoops, it’s now Pajamas Media again! Hoo boy! They’ve traded one shitty name for another.

Another damn update: This is the press release they don’t want you to see...

Whoever "Go Flock Yourself" is, they's gwineter mah links section, I like they style. "Sucking shit" is just so... evocative. The "press release" linked above is from, and it is, *sniff*, a thing of beauty:

At our skanky launch party at the Red Lobster in NYC's Times Square on November 16, we sealed up our "peeholes" both literally and figuratively. We also spent a majority of the day fending off the Sea Monster from the buffet table. We went from being to OSM™ Media, ROTFLMAO, the OSM being short for Open Sores Media and the ROTFLMAO being short for Rolling on the Floor Laughing My Ass Off, which is what we did after we got $3.5 million in financing for whatever-in-the-hell-it-is. And oh, what a drubbing we took. Many, many readers pointed out to us that OSM™ was an even worse name than Peeholes Media; leper colonies expressed concern; and a very fine gentleman named Johnny Lydon at Open Sores ( politely pointed out that we might be trampling on his bollocks, to which we replied at the time, "Never mind the bollocks." (We’re sending him a pair of warm urine specimens, a heartfelt apology, and his name and his domains back, which we never really took from him even though we loved to pretend that we did.)

All of which, as it turns out, has led us to decide to look even more fucktarded than we already have. We are re-assuming our identity as Peeholes Media. (Just give us a few days to sort the technical issues out. We have an astounding five original OSM articles and Glenn Reynold's Guide to Cutting Your Own Hair to transfer to the new domain.) In short, the whole experience of being caught with our peeholes plugged has been a bit embarrassing, but in the end, when we realized we could get our utterly ridiculous name back, we were overjoyed and very, very damp. So a warm, clammy thanks to all of you who expressed your joy with how horribly fucktarded we have been every step of the way.

So how did this debacle happen in the first place? Back at the beginning, certain, shall we say, big people (i.e., the suckers who invested in whatever-in-the-hell-it-is) decided that we should act like real grown up adults who were given $3.5 million for the sketchiest business model to ever to hit the Internet, and being as yet somewhat immature—at least as scammers—we did as we were told.

Which is how, one day, we ended up sitting around a table listening to Barbie dolls and Tickle Me Elmos from an imaginary "branding" company. What followed is still a bit of a Captain Morgan and Coke induced blur, but it involved a fake tea party and many costume changes, and such probing questions as, "Would you please tickle me?" (Which is how we almost ended up as Tickle Me Elmo Media.)

Enough said. So, in the spirit of "open sores," we thought we’d let the real story ooze out for all to see. And hope that our suckers will be satisfied knowing that not only have they put $3.5 million on the line, but that we'll most certainly piss it all away.

posted by Kevin K.

I don't know who Kevin is, but if I was so inclined, I'd marry that boy.

Well, that's a lot of quoting, but I felt the story was so big it was worth it in order to just give you a taste. The quotes tell more of the details, and following links wouldn't hurt your lazy ass, either. This is also a story that continues to develop funny new wrinkles.

If you go to the Pajamas Media site, you see something that reminds me of having a wide selection of oatmeal-flavored bowls of, um, oatmeal, to eat. If it isn't another useless Instapundit clone -- and frankly, the original's popularity was always pretty inexplicable -- it is a Malkin disciple, though few others in the blogosphere can generate the peculiar combination of the sexy and the fascist like Ms. Michelle herself.

And hat-boy is still smirking on the top of the screen at his blog.

Have I smacked Roger L.'s silly fucking porkpie off his head? Nope. I'm sure he'll be immune to this, he's had much worse. But, I have, if you are new to the blogosphere at all, now given you a relatively quick introduction to a feud that is likely to have some real staying power -- it breaks down, in Loki's eyes, to the iconoclasts and original thinkers versus the butt-lickers and the mainstream. It's already clear where your humble host's sympathies tend to be. If you're a real big fan of that oatmeal-flavored oatmeal, be my guest and head to Pajamas Media and get all fibrous for a day. I won't be seeing you there, because that ain't what matters out here in the 'sphere.

Really though, Roger, love the hat.

Oooooohhh, Lordy!

Did Brother Loki stir him up some shit, or what?

The Fucktardian Contingent at is all a-twitter, thinking your humble blogger is Low-rent her self.

Nah. Low-rent-a would never be able to get past her tendency to spout Stuart Smalley-esque cliches about her own genius and value as a person to write something here, nor would she admit that the Fucktardian Contingent is pretty damned hilarious in their gleeful dissections of her oft-daily bloviations.

Mind you, Fucktardians -- check the source code for my page. You will see only sitemeter, and a free version at that. The free version of sitemeter does not give me full IP addresses, therefore I can't map with any accuracy who you are. If I had a statcounter, yes, but you can see that I don't.

Now, this must be said, and clarified -- I would never flatter Ms. Dillon/Smith/Serrano/Stupidhead by devoting an entire blog to her windy-ass self. No offense to the Fucktardian contingent at, either -- some of you are obviously much more motivated in that direction than I am. No, this blog is to be about blogospheric drama in general, but I must admit -- the Misfits vs. the Fucktardian Contingent inspired the idea as a whole, so there Brother Loki doffs his hat to the ladeez and gives y'all MAD PROPZ.

I tried to be objective, but Loki loves the underdog. In this case, Loretta Dillon/Smith/Serrano/Loser's very self-presentation is based in what is actually a conceit, that she is the "underdog," the "misfit." Truth is, she builds her little clique of yammering hens and the occasional clucking paranoid conspiracy-theorist rooster and the moment one of them doesn't pop up the obligatory golden egg of love for the Queen's genius of the day, they become what I think of as the REAL misfits.

Loki is in the blog-world enough that he gets sick of this schoolyard shit, and he can also spot the real bully a mile away. Once we're all grown up, the real bully is most often the one whining the loudest and screaming that everyone else is the bully. That would be Dr. N-buster, herself.

Let me get one other thing outta the way, because I have to agree with the Fucktardian Contingent about this -- being a small-minded little pinheaded sort of sociopath herself, loving all attention, whether negative or not, Loretta reads anything and everything negative she can find, because da queen can't abide the idea that someone might be out there not liking her or believing she's the towering genius she decided she was long ago to deal with her reality. Normal people don't do that shit -- they avoid reading the most ugly criticism and just do their own thing, regardless. So I know Retzq is reading. I don't understand it, but hey.

I'm just having fun. Look for an entry when I have the time about Retzq on the Usenet. Damn, the woman really gets her whack on out there.

A reminder -- e-mail me if you know of similar feuds between blogging-type peoples, or blogging gadflies and blowflies like Blow-retter. loki.lightbringer(AT) Know this -- until I have an idea of who you be (as opposed to who you say you are), I will respond to e-mails from a masked account, though I will open your message in the gmail box. A brother can't be too cautious when he's out there tweaking noses.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Who The Fuck is Loretta, and Why Should You Care?

Well, you shouldn't, really.

But some people do, because Loretta has a gift, nay a spectacular aptitude, for really pissing people off.

This is Loretta -- Just cut & paste it.

It is hard to tell just what the hell "Observations of a Misfit," Loretta's blog, is all about. At first, when she began it about 2 years ago, it looked like a crime blog, though no one was using that term much at the time. But Loretta posts any old thing her brain farts out there, from song parodies so poorly executed they make one re-consider the original source, even if it sucks, to rants against her detractors.

And yo, g, has Loretta got her some detractors.

Here's a blogspot blog entirely devoted to hating on Loretta -- "LorettaHaters2" (there was a '1,' it is true), is amusingly titled, "Loretta Serrano is a Fucktard." I could wax poetic about the joys of the word "fucktard" for an entire entry, but I was telling you about Loretta, about her minions, or flying monkeys, and the loretta-haters.

On the one hand, it is perhaps unintentionally kind of flattering to be a blogger so thoroughly disliked that others actually take the trouble to blog about hating your sorry ass, but on the other, the Fucktardians arrayed against Loretta have something on their side she doesn't seem to possess -- humor.

I'm kind of a crazy fucker, so perhaps it's just my idea of humor, but this is my blog, so there you go.

Here's an example of the giddy rancor spread daily at The following can be found in the comments:

Ok well in the ongoing saga of Loretta Serrano trying to emulate Scott Peterson/Marlene Newell, it seems the latest chapter is she's following Scott's footsteps and claiming that she won't read here anymore! (again) Remember when Scott cut himself off from responding to letters from prison? Of course blaming others for the reason he needed to do this--just like Lo! Is this her version of that? Is she condemning herself to Death Row (whatver kitchen or kitchens that would be or w/ the toe tag)? Is that what you're doing Lo? (cuz I do know you're reading this right now--moments after I post it in fact! ).

Or is she just really pissed off that her little LII site didn't take off with the bang she hoped it would? Temper tantrum?

See, Loretta Dillon/Smith/Serrano/Whatever made her blogging 'fame,' so to speak, writing about the Laci and Scott Peterson case, where Peterson was arrested, tried, and convicted for the murder of his wife Laci and their unborn son, Conner. From Loretta's sometimes rambling discourses in her blog about things she only had the thinnest knowledge of in her blog, she even cobbled together a book.

Serrano invented a character she sometimes trotted out in her blog, "Dr. N-Buster." According to Serrano, the chief problem found at the core of actions like Scott Peterson's is narcissism. That is, pathological self-love, egotism.

She's kind of right, but only part-way... but that isn't here or there. The funny thing one gets reading Dillon/Smith/Serrano's blog after a while is that she herself is, well, pretty fucking narcissistic:

Dr. “N” Buster returns to analyze the curious statements Chet Lynch has made throughout the week to the media since his wife, Cindy, vanished from the marina where the couple were living on a yacht for the past year. Some...

Uh, yeah. Cindy Lynch ended up having a drinking problem, it seems, and to the best of my knowledge, ole Chet has never once seen the inside of a jail cell in association with his wife's death. She was found, and it was determined she'd fallen, and couldn't get up. Loretta's blog is filled with pompous howlers like the statement above.

Apparently, the war between The Misfits and the Fucktardians began when someone dissed someone else. I considered analyzing some more in-depth, but I simply don't have the time. Loretta occasionally flashes a moment or two of smart writing out there, but most of her stuff is similar pontificating to the above. She'd be a feast for a libel attorney, as Dillon/Smith/Serrano/Fuckwit never even stops for a second to consider that someone involved in a criminal case that hits the news might actually not be guilty, especially not after she thinks she's spotted the tell-tale signs of the big "N."

Loretta has a book, too. It's just warmed-over blog entries about the Peterson case, and it is so boring it makes some of crazy-ass serial killer groupie Sondra London's writing look sane. Even worse, at least London has apparently been paid to send her manuscripts off to the printer; Loretta Dillon/Serrano/Smith/Dipshit self-published, which is the same as standing on a street-corner and just shouting your lunacy to the rooftops. People think you've been asked by other folks to do such a thing for money, you might get listened to -- if you do it yourself, you're probably a nutjob.

That could kind of go for all blogging, I guess, but HEY, we're not talking about that right now, chilluns.

The deal with Loretta is that she doesn't even register in the blogosphere. Bloggers like Michelle Malkin, Glenn Reynolds, even bloggers like Steve Huff, who has fewer readers than Malkin or Reynolds but appears in the news nearly as often, barely know Dillon/Serrano/Smith/Whatever exists (though I did notice that Huff has her on a blogroll). Loretta appears to have a carefully cultivated little cadre of fans, some of whom may just be Loretta herself, who daily sojourn to her blog to absolutely steam-clean Loretta's anal region with their tongues. The obsequiousness found in comments at, the cyber-high-fiving and self-congratulation is just astonishing.

The funny thing is, if you read the woman's blog over the course of a year, then check the lorettahaters2 site, you see that eventually, many misfits make the mistake of not lowering their eyes when the queen passes and they get their figurative heads taken off. Loretta goes after them hammer-and-tongs then, it does look like she stalks a bit. Then misfitters end up as Fucktardians.

So, in this little war, who is winning? WHO GIVES A FUCK? In a way, no one. Loretta's blog maintains its middling popularity with stay-at-home moms and the bipolar disordered folks stuck at home sucking up their disability payment lithium, and each time someone says, "uh, Loretta, you might be wrong about that," a new fucktardian is born, as Loretta makes catty phone calls to employers, character-assassinates, threatens, etc, just like that Asperger-Syndrome girl you made so angry in elementary school she eventually started throwing handfuls of brown playground gravel at you. Loretta, for all her witchy mien and general scariness -- her Usenet posts are enlightening -- has some staying power.

The Fucktard Contingent keeps switching blogs and keeps on bitching. They balance their end of things by being pretty damned funny.

More about this ridiculous shit as I have the time. I promise, it's pretty fun.

(Remember, you can e-mail loki.lightbringer(AT) if you've got good dirt about what I've written, or something I should write. It doesn't have to be high-profile bloggers, just anything that is interesting, even salacious. Do tell. Don't forget to replace (AT) with "@.")


Almost forgot -- here's a good example of what a lovely human being Dillon/Serrano/Yadayada can be at times:

Unfortunately, I can't see the future. I do know that bad things happen
to bad people, and I do wish that the scum of New Orleans had all
drowned in the flood, like an Old Testament purge.
I expect most of them survived. Like cockroaches.
And they are coming to a city near you."
Posted by loretta at September 8, 2005 09:38 AM

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

This is where...

I scope you out and call you on the carpet for the freakshow you are.

Hello, blogosphere, this is your worst nightmare. Okay, maybe 3rd or 4th worst nightmare. An anonymous blogger who can find that rock where you hid all your shit, turn it over, and expose it for nothing but grins & giggles.

This is, in short, intended to be a gossip blog about bloggers and other denizens of these here intarwebz. Everyone is fair game, but your gentle host will strive to be humane. No picking on cripples, fat kids, retards. Otherwise, this is equal opportunity. If you are an idiot with a profile of sorts on the 'net... we'll find you.

This blog will be beholden to no one save sources. Sources of solid info will be protected like little babies suckling at the breastages, yo.

That means I want the dirt, y'all. I want the skinny. Oh, I can find it myself -- not to worry. In part, this weblog will be a journey, one you take with me as I troll the internetz and unravel the remarkable threads some of you fucking nuts weave hither and yon.

Who am I? None of your business. Just another fucking nut, in my own charming way. This isn't about me. If anything, I am a guy -- and yes, I am a guy, a dude-- who recently just got fucking sick of the amazing level of pettiness and bullshit that spreads itself internet-wide on a daily basis.

What will you read here? The shit. Stuff about people who are in the grip of the very thing upon which I am relying; the Mardi Gras effect. That's when the perceived anonymity of the internet leads peeps to feel as if they are somehow disinhibited, and their freak comes screaming out in all its wart-riddled glory.

I'm not out to slander anyone as much as let you know you aren't as anonymous as you think, nor are you as important as you think. None of us are. The web can kind of skew that. I'm not out to harass anyone, either. There's no real agenda here, save that I hate idiots, and arrogant idiots even more.

I'm removing comments. I don't care what you think. I'm not watching my language, though I usually tend to think cursing is a sign that someone can't really think of anything else to say. And I'm not going to take any prisoners, either. First we'll focus on bloggers, big and small. But they aren't the only peeps on the web acting like idiots -- there are webmasters galore, weirdos, ninnies, nerds, dorks, sluts... yes, the world you learned about when you watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off in the 80's is alive and well and has morphed into the Matrix.

If you blog about politics, you're fair game. Blog about crime -- fair game. Blog about knitting... eh, pass. And if you're old-school and say, I'm a webmaster, it's different -- too bad. It ain't, really.

I've already acquired a collection of shit to unload here, but I'll need more. To that end, there's a special little e-mail address for you to know:


Now, don't be an idiot, son. I am going to assume you're smart enough to change [AT] out to this here sign -- @. Do that, and if you've got good shit, send it on. It can be about a celebrity blogger, (Malkin, Glenn Reynolds, anyone at Pajamas Media), a celebrity who blogs, or even just some idiot. thrives on such things, and I'm always interested in stupid bullshit being tossed across the fiberoptics, whether I know who you are or not.

Now, you can send flames to the gmail addy if you want, but they'll just be smirked at in a rather infuriating way and deleted.

I will not answer questions about myself, over e-mail or here -- at least not now. I will not give someone shit just because you want me to, either. Don't try and use your boy loki here to settle a score. Each tip is going to be tracked and investigated independently. And don't try to promote some sort of political bullshit by tweaking the blogger now speaking to you -- politics shmolitics. I'll go after the greenies, the lefties, the hawks, the mods, the pro-lifers and pro-choicers if the story is good. Who you vote for is immaterial to me.

Now... I'm going to start slow. But this should be... fun.