It all started earlier this week with this message:
We get these sort of requests in the inbox often enough to defy logic, and honestly, this is me being extremely decent, for me. Usually if I pick up a message like this I’m much more “Get off my lawn with your bullshit, dumpsterslug” about it, but hey, I can understand the principle of not bashing someone solely for being born without arms. “Rhode Island guttermuppets get into an argument on Facebook and use some mean words”, isn’t a headline, though. It’s what happens every single day of the year from the hours of 1pm – 3am. If I’m going to start writing these, why stop there? Why not “Guy In Fall River Loses 5 dollars on a scratch ticket” or “Feminist calls guy a Nazi”. No one cares, it’s not interesting to anyone but you. Blocking someone who upsets you = normal adult behavior. Expecting complete strangers to give a shit? Today’s breaking news: They don’t.
I left it at a solid, “No, but if she ever gets busted in the back of a blacked out 1999 Civic with bags of fentanyl hidden in her snatch, I’ll remember this post.” Which is pretty fucking generous, considering truth be told the only people on the planet who care about any of these losers less than me are their parents. Disabled or not, a bottom feeding ratchet is still a bottom feeding ratchet. Who insults who on social media is not of any concern to me.
But apparently message NOT received, because a few days later….
Knock, knock. Who’s there?
It’s not Ronnie! He can’t knock! He just congests peoples inboxes with riveting updates that no one wants.
The only way I’d ever consider covering a fight between Rhode Island garbage people and an armless vagrant is if it were a literal fight, captured on camera. That would be amusing. This is not. This is just a pathetic loser with a supremely sandy vagina and no arms to wipe it out with.
Then Ronnie made the supreme decision to get threatening with me because no one would ever want to read about how a group of chicks mortally wounded his angel-soft feelz….
And cracked the case of my identity! I’m Jackie, you guys. Or…some guy named…Steve??
Looks just like me….
Detective Nubs solved the cold case!
So…now, here we are. Congratulations, asshole. You got my attention. Here’s a pro tip, you literal fucking shit-for-brains. If you’re going to threaten to “shed light” on me, you should A. Know who the fuck I am so you can actually dig some dirt up (It’s there if you look, I promise, you’ll just have to go back about 8 years) and B. Not being a hopeless, flaming dumpsterfire of a loser.
The odds are not in his favor. We’re obviously not going in the direction he intended.
Ronnie, you’re not less of a man because you have a three piece finger meal where your arms should be, oh no. You’re less of a man because you are so traumatized by a few females hurting your frail little ego that you actually feel like it’s news. You’re less of a man because you actually threatened that your mommy was going to call the cops on some random trashbag I do not care about, over your sad emotions that I also do not care about. I usually don’t take swings at physical disability, but then again, I also usually don’t mock the mentally challenged, either. But here we are. You wanted to be on Turtleboy? Here, let me help you.
And that’s how much I give a shit about Ronnie’s feelings, really. I don’t discriminate – I’ll chew your ass up and spit it right out regardless of your race, religion, nationality, color, creed, handicap or sexual preference.
I can guarantee one thing: no one out there is talking shit to Ratchetsaurus Rex over here solely based on any disability. It’s because he’s a fucking loser, and a dick. Honestly, by all appearances, his disability hasn’t slowed him down at all. Seriously. Look at all the things Ronnie learned to do without arms!
- Commit domestic assault,
2. Vandalize property,
3. Violate restraining orders:
4. Drive recklessly…. while presumably beating up yet another female companion?
That’s more multi tasking than a lot of able-bodied people can pull off!
6. Drink 40oz malt liquor,
And Purple drank,
7. Smoke mad blunts, yo.
8. Appropriate other cultures.
9. Spend all day on Facebook butchering the English language with posts no one gives a fuck about on a profile completely open to the general public, because he’s never going to get a fucking job anyway.
Nothing says, “I am content being a useless drain on society” quite like face tattoos, after all. This guy is 110% living his best life despite his physical disability, arms or no arms this is where he was destined to peak. The ratchet lifestyle does not discriminate.
And of course, he harassed the women he wants us to call out for making fun of his little nubby arms and hurting his little soft and fragile feelings. Nice posts, like giving out their phone numbers online and threatening physical violence, before finally resorting to trying to use Turtleboy as some sort of weapon.
Smart move, Handito. I can promise you without even speaking to any of the broads involved here, you weren’t getting bashed for being disabled. You were getting bashed for being a worthless, unemployable, woman-beating maggot of a chronic failure in Bulls gear. That’s why.
But we’re really supposed to feel bad for him for being “bullied” so much he was “suicidal”, even though he mocks disabled people online himself, right?
Sorry, Detective Nubs, we’re not going to play your harassing women online game today, or tomorrow, or ever. You’re a waste of oxygen, get the fuck off my lawn.