Sadly, On The Taxpayer Dime
Last night I got a few comments on my website that pretty obviously were from the self-described "progressives" I call the Sadly Pathetics, who decided to attack my website with spam and a flurry of nonsense comments after I spoke out in a way unapproved by "progressives."
Last night, one of these tiny little thugs left a comment on my entry Barkleying Up The Wrong Tree...that traced back to...a government IP address! The NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration of the United States Department of Commerce.
So...get this...the commenter is apparently trying to punish me for my free speech...on the government dime. Wait...I pay for the government with my tax dollars! On my dime!
Here's a screenshot of that comment:
Here's a comment from the Sadly Pathetic site from somebody who calls himself dailey:
Well, kitten, you're about to find out. I did me a little lookie-see on the Internets, and came up with this:
And then, from the staff search at the NOAA, this:
In case that's too small for you to read, it's:
Dailey, Kevin Andrew
Physical Science Technician
In between digging this stuff up, I dropped an e-mail to one of the media dudes at the NOAA, Scott Smullen, the deputy director in their Office of Communications:
Dear Scott, I've recently had my website attacked by a bunch of commenters from a site called SadlyNo -- SadlyNo.com -- who go after people they believe to be conservatives who speak freely, and who have a viewpoint different from these so-called "progressives."
I continued with the IP address and other details.
Meanwhile, as long as I had Kevin's number, hell, why not call it?!
It was the wee hours of the morning, but something told me he was on the job. And, whaddya know, I was right.
His colleague answered the phone and ran to get him. Kevin got on the line, all gulpy, and pretended he didn't know what I was talking about. He insisted it wasn't him. I read back his personal e-mail address, and said, so, then, he was telling me somebody was posting from this government IP, using his e-mail address...etc, etc.?
Not surprisingly, the chickenshit hung up on me.
As you can imagine, that dissuaded me!
I called back. Click.
I called back again. He got on the phone and said, in a hard whisper, I couldn't be calling him -- he worked for THE GOVERNMENT!
Yeah, no kidding...on my dime.
Meanwhile, he's still pretending he doesn't know what I'm taking about. We go through this bullshit for a while. He knows I've got him and I know I've got him, and he's going to have to admit it.
We do a little dance for a while to get to that point. I read him the comment, per his request. Hilarious. I figure he's buying time, trying to figure a way out of this.
And then I say, "And you post on Sadly No, of course. And you posted this on my site, from the government IP where you are right now." The bullshit about it not being him continues for a while more. It's really late -- maybe 3 a.m.-ish. I need to go to bed. I tell him he'd better start talking. Finally, he realizes further resistance is futile.
So...Kevin Andrew Dailey, whose salary is paid for by you and me while he's posting on my site...Kevin Andrew Dailey, who posted the above "tranny" comment on my site, per the marching orders published at Sadly Pathetic -- "Hey, kids, let's go poke Albert "Amy" Alkon with a stick and have some fun, mkay?" -- explains with the following steaming load.
"The pictures I saw from the Sadly No website made me think I didn't know if you were a male or a female."
"Which picture is it that made you think that?" I ask.
The loser still doesn't man up. "I don't know," he says.
"Why would you be interested in such a thing?," I ask him.
"I don't know," he says again.
"You're not just trying to harass me, are you?" I say, "When you're posting, 'Are you a tranny?' you think this is appropriate, from a government website, from your government job, and post this on my site."
I continue. "Now these people have said on that site, they said, 'Go over there and bother her.'"
Not surprisingly, the tiny little thug doesn't have the balls to own up that he posted to try to punish me for speaking in a manner unapproved by the tiny little mob of "progressives."
No, instead, he keep pretending that he has serious reason to believe I'm transgendered! As if this is a serious concern by anyone.
I press him to tell me which picture. He says he doesn't remember, and then he says, "It was a facial picture."
I squeeze him further. He professes not to know which one. (Meanwhile, there were four. I've collected them here -- see for yourself if you think he's telling the truth.)
He admits to posting on Sadly Pathetic.
I ask him if he seriously thinks I'm transgendered.
"No I don't," he says. "That's why I asked."
Oh, please. Pussyman keeps stonewalling, so I shift my line of questioning, ask him what he does.
Get this, he says he's a satellite controller!
So, I say, "You're supposed to be controlling satellites, but instead you're posting on my site, am I a tranny?"
I say it again, so I can be sure it sinks in: "I'm paying you...out of my tax dollars, and you're posting on my site, am I a tranny?"
"I was curious," he says. Right.
"Do you walk up to women in the supermarket and ask them if they're trannies?" I ask him.
He says he doesn't.
"Then why would you do it online?" I ask.
"Because it's different."
"Ohhhh!" I say, "So I'm not really a person. Do you think maybe it would hurt a woman's feelings if you ask her if she's really a man?"
"If I did, I am sorry," he says. "It wasn't my intention."
"What was your intention?" I ask.
"I was curious," he says.
"You were curious. You're curious on your government time," I say. "Why was it important to you to know if I was a tranny."
"It wasn't important," he says.
"You do things all the time that are totally unimportant, right?" I ask. "So...you wouldn't go up to a woman in public and ask her if she's a tranny, but I'm such a non-person, because of what, because that's what the Sadly Nos made me out to be, because I spoke in a way they didn't like?"
He's just hummina-hummina at this point, so I say this: "I suggest you write me a little explanation about what you've done. And e-mail it out of your personal e-mail address."
He said he'd be there for another hour.
I told him not to e-mail me on the taxpayer dime, to do it when he got home. I gave him my e-mail address, and ordered him, "You send that to me right away. I want it when I wake up!"
It's 4:25 a.m., I have yet to receive Kevin Andrew Pussyman's e-mail, and I'm going to bed. In between trying to expose Bank of America and tracking down tiny little thugs using their taxpayer funded work time to try to punish people for speech unapproved by the "progressives," I actually have a book to write.
But first, let's review: We've got these "progressives" who have decided I'm racist, ignoring all the facts presented to them to the contrary, simply because I don't speak the approved progressive-speak.
Most amazingly, they've decided to try to denigrate me by calling me a male-to-female transsexual. For the record, I don't think ill of transsexuals -- calling me one is simply incorrect.
But, I recognize their intent in calling me this. And it's especially amazing coming from this group. I mean, of all the people in the world who have it hard, people who are born one sex and feel strongly that they are another, are right around the top of the list. But, never mind that, perfect weapon for the "progressives."
Oh, and one last thing:
Hey, Dailey, you fucked with the wrong "tranny," huh?
A hint for the future: Never go after a woman who has bigger balls than you do, even if they are only metaphorical.
It's 5 a.m., Pacific Time. Kevin just e-mailed me. His effort is, well, sadly pathetic. See for yourself: