"AWESOME SHARKS" or "CAREER GOAL: Work with robots"

I couldn't get a hold of the person that usually does my graphics for me for this, so in case my feeble attempts make this hard to read, I will post below what this half page says.

Nick Pacione

HOMEROOM: Mrs. Nierswicki

CAREER GOAL: Work with robots

THE THING I LIKED BEST ABOUT HALL SCHOOL was the Spring Program

FAVORITE TEACHER: Mrs. Divine

WHEN HE GRADUATES FROM HIGH SCHOOL, HIS CLASSMATES THINK HE WILL still draw awesome sharks.

To be fair, the "HALL SCHOOL" can't be blamed on Nicky as that typo wasn't just on his bio page.

I originally planned on just posting this pic with no text because it speaks for itself, but I have to post to ask: Did anyone else think of Napoleon Dynamite when they saw him drawing "awesome sharks"? I'm sure none of the thousands of people that read his account of him in high school (or the two people that actually paid to read "An Eye In Shadows") would have compared him to Napoleon after reading his account of his time there, but that movie is all I can think of when I see this. Little did they know he'd transend beyond drawing sharks in an awesome manor and instead, write about them as ghosts.

NICKY: BUSINESS OWNER

I'm not talking about Lake Fossil Press because that certainly wasn't a business, and sure as hell isn't a "press" in any sense of the word.

No, I'm talking about Nicky's desire to take over ownership of a place called Ven-U , a multi-leveled establishment in downtown Joliet that features a range of musical genres and food.

Nickolaus Pacione
Lamenting the closing of The Ven-U. Saw the disrepair of the place, now thinking of taking over the ownership.

Now I know what you're thinking: You're thinking Nicky doesn't have a chance in hell of achieving this goal. Why? Because his sole income is based off of disability checks that he usually wastes on his failed book projects? You think that no bank would loan him such a large amount needed to take ownership of such a place? You believe the fact he continues to spend his money on books no one ever buys (but they certainly torch) he must have no business or common sense?

Maybe you remember Nicky explaining that the money he got from his former Associated Content account (haha former) he could finally afford to eat lunch at a Chinese resturant, denoting that he is so poor he has to save to pay for a $7 meal. Is that it?

You guys don't know that for sure. After all, he recently had a book signing and for all you know he may have sold every last copy of his boo...

Nickolaus Pacione
is home right now. Signing was a bust.
6 hours ago

Oh my. Yet another book signing that was a bust. Yet another bus trip into Chicago to sell his wares only to have his cruelest enemy, humankind's desire not to pay money to stare at something that will make their eyes bleed and brain hurt, strike again. Well if any good is to come out of this, it will be that Nicky now has undeniable proof he sucks terribly and has no chance as a writer. Since he's limped away from each and every failed book signing (no wait...he usually gets driven off in the back of an ambulance after the stress of being out of the basement inevitably gets to him) and since this week shows that he has failed each and everytime he's ever tried, finally he can give up his laughable dream at being a writ

Nickolaus Pacione
The Ex room mate showed up and the bitch jinxed everything.

Nevermind he's doomed to repeat this shit over and over again. Just as he's done before, he can blame yet another failure on his ex-roommate. Notice he said she "jinxed everything"? She didn't actually do anything, she was simply in the same building as him. As we all know by now, none of the constant failures in his life are ever, ever his fault. It's always been someone elses.

But now he's gotten so desperate that he has no other choice but to blame his latest string of embarrassments on jinxs. Imaginary curses that no one can prove, most certainly not him, are all that's left for him to blame his misery on.


But certainly someone who hasn't been able to sell more than five copies of anything in the past decade due to evil jinxes has a chance at "taking over ownership" of a legitimate business...right?

Like A Skinny, Greasy Gothy Sanra Who Still Lives In A Basement or Field Of Dreams

Nicky returned to the net recently and has been trying to make up for lost time.

Where has he been, besides completely offline for two months? Growing a beard.

Nickolaus Pacione
Scratching his full beard. Still trying to get used to having a full beard from just having a mustache and goatee. Packing the razor so he can shave his neck (Navy basic training had us shaving our neck when we would shave our face with a double blade razor.) It is the 13th anniversary of enlisting (when they gave the delayed entry program.)

On top of his rampant ass-kissing networking, poor Nicky has been playing the waiting game and quoting "Field Of Dreams":

Nickolaus Pacione

Those of you who play in Gothic Metal, Industrial Metal, Thrash/Speed Metal, Death Metal, Goth Rock, Gothic Hard Rock, or various related genres that use a full double bass kit from Chicago and looking for a venue to play at? Here's the myspace page for The Ven-U. They got a form for you to fill out with inform...ation about the band either national or local, cover or original they will book. Just don't book the show on December 4, 5, or 6 because Queensryche will be playing at Realto Square Theater. This is the first time that Joliet is hosting a Progressive Metal Icon. I am trying to get tickets for this show but I will take press kits, demo CDS, and flyers. I am trying to get something together at The Ven-U. The stage is a good sized one and it's two floors. I've been on the main floor when a show wasn't playing. I will give you the tools to book, and paraphrasing Field of Dreams if you book it, they will come. The Ven-U does have a physical website outside of Myspace. Their number is on their profile. I added them and learned that Beneath Betrayal is from Joliet (they broke up before the April 19th show with Neutral Red, Dark Spectrum, Ezurate and Withering Soul.) I am looking to work with Pitch Black Productions and other like minded metal promoters (either faith based or secular. I will book them together if they mesh well.)

But he isn't still waiting, is he?

Nickolaus Pacione
Just playing the damn waiting game. It's like a lion walking back and forth in a cage.

Ah well that was the 29th surely he's no longer waiting, right?

Nickolaus Pacione
Bus is almost here. They'd be calling anytime. October 29 at 7:17am

Nevermind. Oh well he can act like a groupie heterosexual fan and continue to kiss the ass ofhard-on for Nevermind. Oh well he can act like a groupie heterosexual fan and continue to kiss the ass ofhard-on for grown to love over the years, at least until they find out what he's really like and decide they are better off having one less stalker fan.
support celebs he has grown to love over the years, at least until they find out what he's really like and decide they are better off having one less stalker fan.

P.S. It's Nicky alright: He went all the way back to one of my very first blog entries (where I had people guess the last number in his home phone) and called me a pussy.

Don't Hold Your Breath Waiting For Thomas Jode

How long does it take to write a story using characters that aren't yours? I honestly don't know, since I am not a writer, but it seems to take Nicky forever.

For example, there was I.O.W.A., which was 5,113 words not counting his own name or title (or so I heard anyway!) and when it was reviewed against Nicky's wishes, Nicky's response (swearing and threats aside) was

"I worked three fucking months on that story, for you assholes to rip away just like that."

which averaged out to about 57 words a day.

Granted many authors also have full-time jobs that.... nevermind.

Well many authors have families and children they take ca..... nevermind.

Even your most carefree bachelor author doesn't always have a lot of time to write, as they are usually being invited out to party with their frie.... nevermind.

Well, Nicky's latest project, seems slow going. Below is an analysis of his progress that actual writers could maybe chime in on and tell me if it's normal progress, or slow going as I think it is.

Date and Time	Update	Word Count	Words Added Since	Analysis
April 27 at 11:24am	“ Nickolaus Pacione Got a new story started.”	n/a	n/a	No job or responsibilities? He should be able to churn it out in no time!
May 19 at 11:01pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione Is writing a new story and seeing if he could get this fucking thing finally published in print after being published an entire year in a magazine and an anthology.”	n/a	n/a	Already looking for a place to publish it? Well it's been 22 days so it must be close to done, right? I mean, already looking to sell it then it should be ready, shouldn't it?
May 20 at 5:12pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione Working away on a short story, 1900 words and climbing. The story is called "The Story of Thomas Jode" trying to shop this one to Zoetrope Magazine but no printer to print the story up.”	1900	n/a	We finally get a word count: 1,900! That's about 3 words a day...which isn't much, is it?
May 20 at 9:55pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione Still hammering away on a manuscript that he was toying around with. Thinking of sending it to Glimmer Train magazine when it is done that's if it is done before the May 31, 2009 deadline.”	1900	n/a	Hammering away=progress! Already has a potential victim publisher, so it must be close to being done.
May 23 at 2:53pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione working on a short story but also looking for a gift to get a former classmate.”	1900	n/a	Well that explains some of it, since he's been looking for a present for a friend AND writing his latest masterpiece.
May 23 at 7:41pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione Trying to add more to a story he's working on.”	1900	?	Okay this update came only 5 hours after the last, which means the present ordeal must be taken care of, and now all that's left is to hammer away at his upcoming opus!
May 31 at 12:57pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione puched away 2000 words into the short story being worked on. Now see if I can get that to be a longer story.”	?	?	Wait, what? Did he punch in an additional 2,000 words into it overnight? That's impressive for him! Or, did he only add 100 and now it's at an even 2,000?
June 1 at 5:02pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione Hes 2500 words written of the story, now lets see if this could be made into a 3000 word short story.”	2500	500	Ah, it was the latter. So on the 31st he added a whole whopping 100 words, then the next day an additional 500. He's aiming for a 3,000 word story here folks don't expect an actual full novel out of him.
June 18 at 3:39pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione Hammering away on a new short story. This one might be for that publication which has stories set in Chicago.”	2500	?	Still hammering away! Since he missed the May 31st deadline for Glimmer Train Magazine (yeah, that's why it didn't get in) he also on top of writing it has to also think of where it's going. Some authors do write short stories specifically for certain anthologies/magazines, others just write, then when it's done, figure out where its' going, and Nicky isn't in the latter category.
June 20 at 12:28pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione 3100 words away on the new short story. Let's see how long I can make the thing.”	3100	600	Progress, I guess. Don't dwell on the fact it took him 20 days to write 600 words (or 30 words a day) he can't be expected to be Janrae Frank, who has churned out many books, none of them thin, during her career.
June 29 at 11:16pm ·	“ Nickolaus Pacione Hammering away on a short story. Going piece by piece. Blowing the dust off of a profile picture he used before. Hey Terrell, take a look at this one.”	?	?	Nicky the carpenter is still hammering away! And the delayed progress we now see is due to two factors: He is looking for profile pictures for other men to look at and he is going “piece by piece”. Since I am not a writer, maybe a real one can explain to me what that means.
June 30 at 2:00pm	“ Nickolaus Pacione has over 3300 words for the short story he's working on. Now it is searching for the publisher for the story will be the question.”	3300	200	It's been a little over two months (very little, as in a few days) and he's hit the 3,300 mark.

(DISCLAIMER: Nowhere on this blog have I or anyone else stated that a copy of Nicky's project in question, "The Story of Thomas Jode", was sent a copy via either a company Nicky submitted the story or a friend of his that he sent a copy to, and we have neither stated that a copy has been sent to us nor that one will once Nicky sends it to them. At no point have I written on this blog that a copy will be read and reviewed by AngryInIllinois or anyone else, or that the review, which we have not said probably won't appear on DA again, will be linked from this site for readers to click and read. ExposeTheTard has neither promised an early review of Nicky's latest story nor have we 'teased' the readers by saying that it is coming soon and that once it would be uploaded it would immediately linked to from here Again, we are not suggesting or attempting in a sly manor that a review of "The Story of Thomas Jode.

One has to wonder if this is why Nicky churns out so many anthologies over the years, as well as submitting short stories to numerous publications that either weren't legit before his entries or went belly-up not long after losing all credibility for printing his "work".

Many have claimed that he has no talent and doesn't have what it takes to write a full novel, and that's including the over padded 119 page "Norwood's Discovery" that was a novella, not a full book. The same people theorize that he couldn't put out a full novel even if he weren't lazy due to lacking what it takes, therefore he does anthologies, letting others contribute enough to actually make full-sized books, wherein he then slaps his name first and foremost on them, so that he can say there are full books with Nicky's name on it.

But is that the case? Or does he have such deep and magnificent stories to tell that he purposely averages about 50 words a day on each one because they are that great, and he can tell the world's best stories using far less words than actual accomplished, real, acknowledged, successful authors?

Bonus questions: Since Nicky spells it "Thomas Jode", is it fair to say he's using Steinbeck's character without permission? Granted, Springstien and even Rage Against The Machine both Thomas Joad as well however, Nicky has always raised a huge stink over anyone using his characters without his permission. That isn't counting the guidelines to a project of his a few years ago where he asked people to write stories using his characters with his permission (no one actually took him up on that author, which is funny because many have written stories using his characters to fuck with him for free, and yet passed up the opportunity to get paid $5 many months after the promised amounts).

Plaugerizing? Maybe not. Lack of creativity? Possibly. The millionth example of Nicky being a hypocrite? Without a doubt.

Don't believe me that Nicky hates others using his characters? Take a look at this poll:

"Do you have respect for other writers' characters enough not to write "fan fiction"?

1. No and explain in the comment area below.

2. Yes -- I write my own characters and plots."

1. 
   

lol the first option won out as 80% of those who took the questionare option chose #1.

"I will tell them the same thing I am telling all of you bastards stealing my characters and holding my imprint hostage. Kiss my ass." from here

See, he's against that.

"Asshole. When this asshole goes around committing acts of plagiarism on one of my characters, does he really have a place to really comment on an innocent remark relating to Flood Insurance." from here

"This joker is what they call the male equal to the myspace mom. The son of a bitch harbored repeated plagiarism of my characters..." in reference to our magnificant hero autoaim, from here

That settles it: Using someone else's characters is wrong, therefore making Nicky The Hypocrite, wrong.

"I am making fun of the fact people are writing fan fiction from Poppy's work, and I am just waiting for one person to actually make all her characters straight and her beloved G-Man having a wife and a baby." from here

Oh I almost forgot the main rule, which is that something is wrong to do to Nicky, but is perfectly fine to do to his foes like Poppy. Almost forgot he called for people to burn her books after baaawing that folks did that to his.

I don't fucking appreciate the fact you bastards are slashing up my characters. That is the ultimate form of disrespect. from here

Maybe he's saying you can, but if people keep his characters A-Sexual as he meant them to be, then it's fine. Oddly enough he had previously claimed pissing on his books and pictures of himself was the "ultimate form of disrespect"

" I am willing to bet you also write fan fiction from stolen characters too early in your life. It pisses me off and feels like I got kicked in the balls when someone goes aroud slashing my work up. It's not funny. Get a life you queers. For fuck's sake, fair use doesn't include the blantent theft of my characters and making them into faggots." Informing here us that if you write gay sex pieces using his characters, you are causing him the same pain he'd feel were you to assault his testicles, so don't do it. That wasn't a hint or me giving ammo to those who hate him to do it anyway to make his life hell, because I am not strongly suggesting you do it

See I was right: It's acceptable to steal characters as long as they never, ever, partake in biblical relations. It's not fair that his imaganary people get laid and he doesn't.

"I've never went around and stole characters from you or Brian Keene to make them look like total assholes. Doing that kind of shit is kind of like playing with fire because you will end up being the one that gets burned in the end." from here

And because Thomas Jode isn't a walking anus who has gay relations, what he did was ok.

"If they want to be writers, create their own damn characters."

"Passing it off as 'literature' if those assholes want to write short stories why can't they come up with their own ideas with their own characters. "

That's a good question, however I don't believe asking the same guy who has written fanfiction and stole characters from Sherlock Holmes, The Crow, and Johnny Alien is fit to answer that question.

By the way: This article, includng this sentence, makes this blog entry 2,130 words in length. and took me less than an hour to write.Nicky's story, "The Story Of Thomas Jode", took well over a month to get to the 2,500 mark.

Editor's note: Since writing this in early June, Nicky has very recently posted an update about it:

Nickolaus Pacione
Is adding more to the story he's working on.
Mon at 11:54am

Of course you are, Nicky, of course you are.

"Can't do a site that trashes on me in a drop of the hat."

NIckolaus Pacione said...

Still stealing my work ExposeTheTard. You had no permission to use my work on your website so you better take it down. Can't do a site that trashes on me in a drop of the hat. Melany, what kind of life do you have now. Where you're stalking me just to make my life a living hell.

August 17, 2009 10:20 AM

He's just now getting around to bitching about me legally posting a small bit from one of his previous pieces that is so bad, even Nicky wouldn't admit to writing it, hence Theo Wolfe.

When I first saw his blog entry, I thought he was upset about me reading another story of his called "The Story Of Tom Jode" which, speaking of stealing, is a misspelled name that should sound familiar to most. Anyway I hadn't said that I myself got to read an early version of his latest garbage that proves he is incapable of improving, so I couldn't understand what he was bitching about this time until just now.

You'll have to forgive Nicky for his outbursts he's had a rough August. As you know the beginning of August is his birthday, and he's so unloved he had to treat himself to a White Sox game in Chicago.

I mean, you'd think if he were loved someone would have offered to drop him off then picked him up when it was over.

Sadly, Nicky had to do the hospice thing again. Not only that, but there wasn't any guarantee that he could even treat himself to something. He almost couldn't go because his "tugboat" money wasn't in his account as the day was getting closer, which would have led to yet another night of him sleeping penniless in Chicago with the possibility of getting re-arrested.

Not that anyone should have to care for this gothy manchild, but when he makes a trip that far from home and winds up in a hostel room hoping money he didn't earn makes it to his account on time? That's yet another clue that Nicky needs to have people watching him around the clock, but I'm talking about folks in white coats, not his family.

All of that being said, Rusty's list of how Nicky will act from this point on for the next couple of days probably won't happen. He'll let you insult him and his family all you want and not say a word, but what sets him off is him seeing what he considers his masterful creations posted somewhere without his permission.

There is always the chance he'll chime in regarding his criminally boring "Thomas Jode" story, even though I I never indicated an unfinished copy was floating around out there lately.

Speaking of that story, it is taking him forever to write it even though he doesn't have a job. Don't believe me? I made a little something about it months ago and never posted it, which I believe I'll do right now...

In Defense Of Melany Part 2

Months ago Nicky commented to Melany in anger that he may not be the father of their child, and I shot back using his own words from almost a decade ago where he admits that he is in a letter to their child.

Well recently he did it again

I just hate you with every bone in my body. You're going to wish all you want to see me locked away but we all know that I got some of my freedom the day you left me. You still want to slap me across my face for what I am saying here, this is my blog and I can say what I wish when I wish. You hold no control over what I say or what I do. Maybe that son isn't even mine.

yet even though I had already posted damning evidence before, I remembered having more, which I just found from his now deleted livejournal from 2003 courtest of my N: drive. What I am about to post here hasn't been seen in years...

Date: 2003-01-30 00:09
Subject: from father to his non-custodial son
Security: Public
Mood: depressed
Music: Theory of a Dead Man

Happy birthday son -- it is your fourth birthday last night. It was four years ago that I was in the hospital with your mother (even though the mother and I are not talking, we will always be your parents.) I will always be here for you even though the state would not allow me to be your father, my mind was too far gone and need to get the help I needed before I even began to be a father to you. A year ago I did a post like this and one of the longest I had done on livejournal in a long time along with the one on my birthday; I think of you all the time my son. This was about three years ago in Feburary that I had to sign you away to adoption, it kills me every time when the holidays come around and when your birthday is here and gone. I hope that your family who is looking out for you is doing a good job since if I tried to write a letter to you, I know that the bitch Blankenship would not make sure you get it. I still have a hate for her that is very strong as it was in 1999 -- but this post being that you are now four years old but when you turn 14 or 15, that your family would allow you to seek out the father that loves you but the state would never let you see. Your mother might hate me and I never speak with her -- it doesn't mean that we don't love you though. I don't know how she is taking it when she had to adopt you out -- but when I had to sign those papers it felt like the very thing that was keeping me alive was no longer there. So I continued with my writing in vain hopes that when you do find me, that you would find that first then seek me out. I will be 38 when you are old enough to seek me out, that would be a long time though because of the fuck ups of the system Iowa is.

Nicky we did this before. Everyone knows that you know you are the father. Most importantly the great state of Iowa does which is why they were smart enough to write you out of the picture for good. The sad yet comedic slant in your plan is that if anyone ever does try to seek you out, fandomwank and Encyclopedia Dramatica's pages on you show up on the first search page, guaranteeing that anyone that seeks you out online will learn the truth about you that you don't want known.

Of course if you don't believe Nicky, there's always that writer friend of his Theo Wolfe who wrote Loss of Blood. In fact let's read that again, shall we? If you don't want chronic eye bleeding from reading one of his pieces of shit from beginning to end, the following story has the important parts in bold so you can skip past the over dramatized garbage he wrote years ago. (please note some names have been removed, others purposely misspelled)

Tuesday, February 9th, 1999, the Loss of Blood
Written by Theodore Wolfe and Nickolaus Pacione

Introduction--LIFE IMITATES HORROR:
Those of you that may have read most of my fiction may not know where my imaginations come up with such terror, but that is a creation of my own imagination. In the years that I had spent reading H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allen Poe, and Stephen King -- horror is taken from reality as well. Theodore saw a copy of the police report that I had hand written, and was reading books written by John Saul (he, his wife and Melany (lol wat) told me to look into him,) H.P. Lovecraft, Robert Bloch, and as well as books of true crime such as case studies of Jeffory Dhamer and Jack The Ripper -- for me this is a true story when I had moved to Mason City's North End, I was actually jumped outside of my apartment.
I told Theodore of the case after he read the police report in the local newspaper. I wrote the rough draft under the suggestion of Officer Jessica Buckman because she was the officer on the scene when I was beaten down -- and said that I can make the report into a gothic tale. Theodore is a young writer, and grown up in New Hampton, Iowa, that was interested in writing out my police report as a story. I gave him the go ahead and this is what he'd come up with. It is based on what had happened February 9 to me.
Theo had been wanting to write a story on the lines of Robert Bloch and Stephen King, then read some of my fiction in a coffee house while I was waiting for my bus in Des Moines. Then using my police report, he wanted to write something that is likely top scare the shit of someone from Iowa as well as in Chicago Illinois. His wife, (lol wat again)whose name is also Melany, liked the idea and I gave him the go ahead, with Buchman's and my input -- "Loss of Blood" born. He gave me the rough draft, then with Barbara A. Oldham while on my break from work -- made the final revisions, as it would read similar to either "Method Into The Heart Of Madness" or "The Wrong Side of The Tracks" then made a reference to "The Comatose Letters." After I'd been reading the rough draft, at 20, Theodore is still learning the talent, the gift.

--Nickolaus A. Pacione
final revisions: February 9 - 14, 1999 Feb. 9 1999:*
After all this happened and I had time to calm down and think, There was a lot more I could remember and thought I better let the PD know. The altercation at the South Bridge mall happened when about four males and three females, all under the age of 18, were involved -- one was a coworker named Elizabeth (Liz) Anderson, 17. She harassed me about working Friday the 12th, when she knew that I already had plans to go see my (child) and fiancee, Melany in Iowa City. At this time, I'd told Anderson to leave me alone . Then I walked through the youth center in the mall. I talked to a youth pastor Larry Day about getting a ride to Iowa City. I called John from the Assembly Of God church. I left from there -- Murl , Gelpart, with another young man followed me into a book store where a friend of mine works. From there I asked, "What do you want and why are you guys following me?" I said, "I hope you realize I can get you two for stalking and harassment." Gelpart said, "Just tell me what you said and I will leave you alone, if not I will make your life hell for the rest of the days you live in Mason City " . Gelpart said that someone told him I said that his baby was ugly when I didn't even know the child, and when I had a newborn (child) of my own.
I said to him,"That's an out right lie and you know it!!!" Gelpart still didn't budge then An, a friend of mine who worked got right in front of him and told him to leave but he just waited out side of the store. From there I gave An eye signal to call security and mouthed it .The security guard , Trent showed up . I asked him to keep an eye on Gelpart, 17, and Murl, 16. I walked across the hall to the Zoo , another business in the Mall. When I was standing there I was watching for Sean and D. J. And I saw Sean make a motion as he was going to slit my throat.
When Trent showed up to the Zoo, he told me I better get my ass out of there and he that he'd will keep a look out. He tried to keep them occupied while I made my exit to J.C. Penny's. When I exited J.C. Penny's, one of Gelpart's friends tried to corner me so then I darted back into J.C. Penny's. When this occurred, I was looking for the security guard again . Then the guard, Trent walked with me to the employee's hallway , then called the police In the mean time, my coworker, Liz and Sean's sister with another girl whom I did not know was on the SE. end of Mall waiting for me to go out of the building that way. Right before the police officer had shown up, Gelpart jumped in the face of Trent , the security guard, he said "I'll floor you right now, mother fucker!!". I just looked on not saying a word, but then he'd shouted at me saying that I am next. I said you lay one hand on me and I'll have you handcuffed and butt raped in prison. That's when the woman Police officer, Buckman, showed up and then she asked what was going on , first to Sean and then D.J. (probably Dale Murl), which I found out later his name , after every thing was done and over at the Mall. I decided to walk over to a friend's house where I used to stay at . She wasn't home so I decided to walk on home but I was keeping an eye out for Gelpart and Murl because I'd known what type of people they are . When I walked back to my apt. I was greeted by three individuals and it was Sean's younger sister and my Coworker, Liz, a young male -- about 18 with Sean's sister said, "I would slit your fucking throat if I had a knife right now, you Goddamned snitch!!"
My coworker, Liz , tried to keep me from entering my home. They tried to keep me talking until Sean, D.J., and another juvenile, a runaway who had escaped from Waterloo's Juvenile Center, Jason Scholby, 15. Jason showed up and was already at the gas cause he must of received a ride to the gas station next to my apartment from some one. Liz, my coworker, said in an evil tone, " Sean is going to kick your ass, and you'll not going to go to the Police about it -- I'll make sure of that myself. They are going to pull you off some where , where no one can find you so you won't narc on any one else -- maybe if you are lucky, they just allow you to breathe."
Her motive was that she wanted me murdered, as the person named David Gordon did back 1993 at the DAVEA Career Center in Addison, Illinois, but her motive was that I was the one that turned Murl( That happened in mid Aug. 1998, when I narced on D.J. ( Dale R. Murl, Jr. ., on a possession of marijuana and assault charges which he was on parole for.) Liz said, "Nick, you are a constant narc and you don't deserve to live." (Later, after this all came about I was told by a couple sources that she wanted to plot my death -- it was while Barb and I were typing up the rough draft of the police to turn into Buckman, of The Mason City Police Department.)
As I looked over my shoulder, and I thought "Oh shit, I better take off to the east and then north to the store where I work because there was a tall male, which I had later been told to Jason Scholby, the Waterloo Runaway." Gelpart had caught up with me at the door of the shop where I work. I felt a violent pulling as I tried to open the front door. As I opened the door, I screamed in terror to Barb," BARB!!! BAAAAAAARRRRRBBB!!!!! Call the police!!!! Now !!!! NOW Dam It !!" Sean had pulled me outside by my left sleeve and my upper chest was still in the store -- then I felt something hard hit the top of my head, a weapon of some kind and my Boss Barb screamed at her husband Jack to come up and Jack pulled me into the store and pushed Sean off me . Then Barb told me to stay in the store and she was going to see what was going on. I then took off my quilted flannel then my black t-shirt and went into the bath room because I felt something warm, pulsing liquid on my back. I then thought, "Shit!! Oh God-- no, I cannot be bleeding!!" Tried to wash my hands and thought, no I better let the police see me first.
After Barb called the police, it seemed to be hours because I was bleeding pretty horribly, and in my eyes -- I was looking at my hands in terror because all the voices around me were as an echo as in a cavern of pipes and concrete. At this time, Buckman had seen what had happened to me -- the blood flowing down the front of my face, and five pools of blood on the floor. She told me to lie down and do not move because I had lost about a quart of blood -- more than what I'd lost when I was bit by a good sized rat in the shop. I'd lost enough to cover two mid-sized towels. Then Buckman told Barb to call the ambulance -- I could see at the corner of my eye that the EMTs had gotten there about 8:45 PM. I heard one of them tell me that he was going to roll me over into the stretcher -- I felt a chill of death on my skin as how I can describe it, and my skin was pale as a vampire from an Anne Rice novel. I felt something around my head, a gauze with another dressing to stop the bleeding.
I murmured to the EMT that I was cold so they covered me up in five blankets then I was asked to grip the EMT's finger -- I could barely move because I was harnessed to the fucken stretcher and wrapped as damned mummy. I felt three EMTs lifting me up through the door -- with one of my neighbors from the apartment and Officer Buckman looking on as I was centered on a cart. It is here I felt something like the sleeping bag I would use -- but similar in the material, that the EMTs would use to wrap me in while I was riding in the back of the ambulance that reminded me of the scene in Halloween II where Lorie Strode was taken to the hospital. The Police Officer who walked in the back said that they will follow behind to North Iowa Mercy Hospital.
In my mind at the time when I lay in the stretcher, all I could think about are if I am ever going to see my son again -- this is the darkest fears of a young father because how bad I thought I was beaten. And as I slept, all I could think about are the nightmares that haunted me about how many people had wanted me murdered. One had said that I should not be thinking about such horrors, but as this happened -- I have to reflect and relate, the closest I can relate is the attempted murder in Addison, back in October of 1993, while I was still in Glenbard East.

February 10, 1999:
It had been almost twelve hours to the horror that occurred outside my apartment --of when I got brutally attacked by a blood thirsty individual. Indeed, one would ask what had happened because the incident appeared in the newspaper in Mason City. In my mind, I'd could only think of the most horrific attack on oneself and of the trip to the Emergency Room -- the picture in my mind was of the pool of blood that I was lying in from the hour that I was beaten down by a tall, thin individual. His face was long and hair was a dirty blonde that he kept tied in a ponytail. His eyes had a darkly blank stare to them -- as a demon that Pacione's fiancee, Melany had spoken of in her dreams, as well as the nightmare Melany had after Pacione given her a tour of the place called Ravenswood. As I was lying on the stretcher, I was able to see the nightmare clear inside -- I am barely awake, but very weak because of the loss of blood.
When I saw the blood on the floor, I was thinking that I was not going to live to see the next day because I had been bleeding as heavy as the day that I lost part of my finger -- I was living out a horror tale that would appear on Pacione's web site where He'd written the tale, "The Comatose Letters." My terror was becoming quite real because I'm quite nervous when I walk around the North End of Mason City, Iowa, near where N. Albert's friend had messed up his arm in a fight during mid September on the North End, near the apartment where Nick had made his home. It was last night, that I'd been attacked and the thoughts inside were quite unspeakable as the pictures Pacione would describe of his nightmarish images -- I found myself lying on my back thinking, "God -- Oh Dear God, I am bleeding -- I'd been fucking cut, but where?" All that I could see is a police officer in her mid 20s, telling me to lay down and stay calm. I shouted, " I want this mother fucker in handcuffs, and make sure that his hands are bleeding because the cuffs are tight around his goddamned wrists!"
I was still shaking at the time when the female officer had been on her knees until the EMTs had appeared to the place where I had been lying down. My skin was quite pale from the shock of what had just occurred -- pale as the flesh of a vampire that had just been embraced, such thoughts one had were of not being able to see my wife (haha wat) and son ever again because how much blood that one had lost. But the picture of the black shape, a 17 year old male -- a minor who had the personality complex equal of Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde. Something of this nature is always frightening, in the sense that something is going down as the fight of Pacione's friend was in on the North End of Mason City. As what Nickolaus described in his nightmares about walking around in Chicago -- near the town where he lived seeing graffiti from a local gang, I'd seen similar shadows in Mason City before moving out of New Hampton, Iowa, to live in Mason City.
Last night, as I'd fallen asleep -- I dreamed that I was walking the streets of Downtown Chicago with Nickolaus as my guide, and what he had showed I was pictures of a frightening nature. Such pictures that he told me in a letter were as icily frightening as what he'd wrote of in his fiction are of the darkest fears inside his mind, but as what I'd been told that one should not be writing of such things because it is the work of an unsound mind. In one way or another, Nickolaus had been considered a madman in the eyes of a rural city because of the dark, vampire-like thoughts that he describes about his nightmares. Such as what had happened to me last night, my wife had known nothing of the horror that I sit down to type in my personal journal -- one that I describe was of the loss of blood that was invoked by the beating on the North End that had taken place.
It was a horror film playing over and over as a story of Nickolaus' would quickly be unleashed about 8:30 in the evening -- in one's mind when I got beaten down the night of February 9th, one cannot begin to imagine the horror that is crawling around inside one's mind that would drive another to beat another down. Only as this thought lurks inside -- I am a bit touchy, touchy with a sense of dread. A dread that appears in form a loss of blood that is slowly dripping on the floor -- similar to the darkening paranoia inside the morbid fears as one would fall into a dark, tormented sleep. The dream that I had was of a tall, heavy set individual smashing in the door of my place on the South End of town -- with the intent to slash open my throat. The individual was that of a demented personality -- making Norman Bates seem like a better person to hang around with than him.
One of those that I dread if my wife (lol haha wat), Melany *, and young (child), (name withheld), would fall victim to what his motives are. The horror in my mind that I'd find them on the floor, cold and lifeless because he'd taken their life -- before I would even return from work, but as I'd seen this I'd awaken from the sleep, I was lying in the ambulance -- alone with the EMT in the back of the ambulance, wrapped up inside the sleeping bag and five blankets. One could not see the outside of the ambulance, but the fear inside one's mind had left one's thoughts blank from all the things that are around me at the time -- the very hour that color of the hour was black as the darkest sky. Inside that I'd see the things lurking among the terrors -- the terrors of the soul as a shadow lurking as a stalker waiting to take the life of one that should not be facing in the waking hours. The waking hours at the time of the loss, the loss of blood.

Not to mention my previous post pointing out all the other numerous times he admitted to being the father.

I shouldn't have to post any more proof, but for the record, Nicky is the liar, not Melany.

And please bear with me I am experimenting with different fonts trying to find one that makes it easier to read this site. :)

Hypocrite

This is the epitome of hypocrite, and one of the reasons Nicky stopped making videos since his own words were his worst enemy.

What Really Happened To MySexyBoyfriend

You will be missed. :(



(thanks to the person who sent me this, along with all of her other videos. Some are already here, but soon, they all will have a new home and that includes the Hypocrite vids!)

Writings From The Grave or "HOMOcide"

The following is from a poorly written fictional story long since lost called "Writings From The Grave" by Nicholas Pacione, which I happened to save years ago. Rather than give someone back something they could have kept had they backed up their constantly crashing hard drives, I'm only going to post the funniest bits from it, and by "it" I mean yet another story where a woman is slaughtered in a gory manor. It was a piece like many of his from that time that featured long nonsensical rants about religion and phrases like

"The thoughts of the philosopher are left to be molested in the eyes of a pastor or a preacher.

Back then he wrote the words "molested" and "preacher" often. In the story, a brutal set of murders have befallen his state. The police have quite a case on their hands, so who you gonna call?

They had found a map of Du Page County with an upside down cross drawn on it -- it was starting from Roselle to Naperville, Illinois. They had to recruit a horror writer to study the patterns of the killings -- they gave the writer, Nicholaus Andrew Pacione, the pictures of the crime scenes to see if there was a pattern to the ritualistic horror that happened in a three year time span starting in October of 1987 to the year of 1990.

I wanted to stop after revealing his name, his middle name, as "Andrew", when we've seen in the past him say it was "Albert" or if you've read Tabloid Purposes 2, "Ablert", but he added a comma and ran that sentence on longer than it should have been.

They were thinking that Pacione had an idea about how the crimes were taking place. “Pacione, we know that you write about things of this nature, and we were wondering if you can make out these pictures out -- the other pictures were provided by the Naperville Police, Bloomingdale Police, and the Du Page County Sheriff. The images that were found on the crime scene were diplicted to the celebration of Candlemas, a pagan holiday in February. We are suspecting that these crimes were that of a murder cult, one that had used the Necronomicon for their spiritual guidence.”

"Nickolaus, we know you write about this kind of thing using poor spelling and we need your help so you can make out these pictures out!" At this point, Nicky blesses the stumped police force with his David Caruso-esc wisdom, where he accuses them of pirating his work I shit you not.

“Officer Freedman, I will have to take a closer look at these pictures. Holy fuck -- I was quite afraid of this, this is something that was taken out of my rough drafts. About five months ago my rough drafts had been stolen from my locker in Glenbard North -- I don’t know how they were stolen, but the crimes that are taken place are straight out of my direct research of the occult and of my correspondence to a true crime writer out in Tacoma, Washington.

A crime has been committed alright, a crime most foul, a crime called PIRATING NICKY'S WORKS!

Do you think that I can call her? I am asking as your best friend?” Nicholaus states to the police officer, “Steve, trust me on this -- and do you think that I can mail copies of your findings to her.”

First they have to figure out who moved the question mark around. Because of this evil deed, it appears as though he is asking if Steve is his best friend then asks if he can mail copies of their findings to her, but he didn't actually, since it ends like every other question he asks: Without a question mark. Remember how I said he misspelled his own middle name at the beginning of a book HE edited himself? Well prepare for a second misspelling of his first name for the second time in this story!

“Nik, if it can help our case, I am all for it. I have been a member of homocide since 1983, and I had never came across crimes this brutal. As a kid, I grew up in a small Minnesota town, but I heard horror stories on the news in the Twin Cities about murders -- I never thought that Du Page County would have murders that are so grosteque and disturbing, I cannot begin to describe the details.

Stop. Nicky's characters have always heard shit that went on in the past as previously pointing out in reviews on this site, but a cop whose job it is to document shit like this "cannot begin to describe the details" making Steve inept, much like the story's author.

"It is something that would only come out of the fiction that you would write. I am only 26 years old and have a son that is 14 years old;

Steve you SLUT! You had a child at the age of 12, which means you probably had sex when you were 11. That must be why you can't do your job right since you were having relations instead of doing your homework.

I never was prepared for the gang related murders and bizarre murders that would happen in Glendale Heights. I only pray to God that I don’t find a body that had been disembowelled or dismembered, but that all changed when I got the pictures from the murder of that woman in Addison, Illinois. The way that she had been just brutalized -- strangled while she was being raped, and the murderer had been cutting her open while he was fucking her, the murder turned out to be an African American woman in her late 20s. It frightens me how one would truely do such a deed.” Officer Freedman had said while giving me the go ahead to call Roxanne Edwardson, an aspiring true crime writer.

In reading all that I don't see where he gave the "go ahead". Maybe he was using sign language to Nik while reciting his epic gothy prose.

“Steve, I lived in Du Page and Schamburg most of my life -- gangs are a factor anywhere in Du Page County.“ I said while dialing out to Tacoma. “Roxanne, I had some pictures to show you -- how fast can you get to Chicago. When you get out here, book a hotel room in Joliet and call the Glendale Heights Police Department.
The homocide unit recruited me to help them

Now we see why!

with the investegation because the murders are mirroring the content in my manuscripts. How soon can catch the next plane to O’Hare Airport. Steve will be joining me in Joliet.” Steve was shaking his head to me,

Steve was shaking his head out of confusion, Nik. He was trying to figure out if you were asking questions or just stating shit that happened to sound like questions, and how confusing it must be to Roxanne to pick up the phone to hear someone asking, but not really asking. At this point we also see a twist: Nik is also a murderer! The whole time they are investigating one crime, he's murdering the English language!

Steve had put on an oversized flannel and black jeans, I was dressed in mostly black clothing -- and had some jewellery on.

At this point Steve dresses like Nik, while Nik is dresses like Dame Edna, no doubt a ploy to throw off the murderer and e-pirate. Nik's bling was no doubt part of the undercover work.

My shirt had kept a .22 pistol hidden from plain site. The ride into the city was long and Steve had many questions. “Nik, what made you want to become a horror writer? I know that this is a deep question, and while I was in college, I too wanted to become a writer -- I have some of my writings with me. I also have a curiousity for the occult like you, but I became a police officer because of the things that I had seen in college were quite disturbing -- my roommate was found dead, they said that he was sufficated with his own pillow. When I came into the room and I thought he was sleeping, I tried to wake him up and his body was cold to the touch -- later found that he had a cut from one side of his neck to the other.”

Steve didn't have time to become a writer as he was on the talk show circuit discussing how it felt to be the world's youngest baby-daddy at age 12.

It was quiet most of the way -- he had said nothing much after that. He sort of knew that the writings from the grave are a dark prophecy, one that would later speak of a being that was lurking in the dark of the Joliet Union Station. It was without a face and walked the station only at night. When Steve and I had seen this thing, we pulled out our guns and began to fill the fucker full of slugs.

The dark prophecy spoke of a story that would segue from a quiet car ride somewhere to shooting at a monster who would have gastropod mollusk garden pests shot at it.

“What the fuck is this thing, it is just keep coming at us. Do you have any silver bullets -- I am saying this because it has a strong odor to it, the odor of slow decay. It has the mind of Charles Manson, but smelled like the decay that is beneath the basement of John Wayne Gacy.

”Do you non-believers see now why they got Nik on this case? That's right! Because he was bitten by a radioactive bloodhound years before that allows him to sniff out undead monsters. That, and his experience of being one of the few people on earth who not only sniffed John Wayne Gacy's basement, but remembered it'd distinct odor.

By the time that we got to the hotel in Joliet, we were too late because we found Roxanne all right -- her body had been wrapped in a sheet and duct taped like a mummy. She was still alive, but barely because her skin was cool to the touch -- the only part of her that was exposed was her face up to her eyes. They had her hanging from her feet upside down. Whe we tried to cut her loose, she flopped once like a fish and then she wasn’t moving anymore. “Nik, call the fucking ambulance -- she is still breathing and has a pulse, but she is baring awake. Her eyes are closed and she is badly shaken -- I am going to try to untie her and put some clothes on her, she looked like that she had been raped and someone had forced a knife across her wrists. This is too much -- it is like one of your stories and one of her crime articles.”

Steve you lazy asshole call the ambulance yourself. Regarding her being wrapped in a sheet and duct taped like a mummy, see bondage sleepsack.

She was mumbling something -- it sounded like the name of her attacker. We had stayed with her until the Joliet Police arrived, then we had picked up a blanket from the floor and had her lay down across the bed -- Steve managed to get a dress on her and I managed to get some socks and some boots on her feet, but we did the best that we can not to tamper with the crime scene.

Nik had other uses beyond his super sniffing powers, he was also an expert at applying socks to rape victims. Well at least she's out of that bondage sleepsack!

After we managed to get her fully dressed, I covered her up with a thick blanket.

Or not.

There was a pentagram on a mirror and a cryptic message on there, it was written in cat’s blood.

See? You thought that his sniffing duties were over and you were wrong. He was able to tell by the odor of the blood that it came from a cat.

I leave you not with the final line in the story, but one that comes a few before it, that perfectly sums up this whole piece.

All of this did not make sense, but the horrors that were keyed together were a nightmare that one either a true crime writer or a horror writer cannot key

Eerily enough, he was right! It neither made sense nor was it "keyed" by a horror writer. It was written by Nik aka Nickolaus Albert Pacione aka Nickolaus Ablert Pacione aka Nicholaus Andrew Pacione aka Dame Edna!

What did we learn from this story?
If there something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call? Nicholaus Andrew Pacione!
If a story was stolen, from your lockeroom, who you gonna call? Nickolaus Albert Pacione!
If you have a crime scene, and it needs to be sniffed, who you gonna call? Nik Pacione!
If you're almost dead, and your socks aren't on, you go gonna call? Nickolaus Ablert Pacione!
If you got a girl pregnant, when you're only 12, who you gonna call? HOMOcide Unit!

Response To Dutchess

Recently Dutchess Webb graced my comment section wondering why in the hell I was posting her name, and I don't blame her one bit!

I was in the process of typing my explanation in the comment area, but there are a few links I was going to provide so I decided to make a new post. (If you want this post removed so that your name does not appear here in searches anymore, let me know).

May 21, 2009 11:40 PM

Duchess Webb said...

How in the world did my online name get roped into being associated with you Expose? I have been FAR out of the Nicky Drama loop for many, many years. Heck, the only reason why I am here posting a comment now is because someone I knew mentioned this blog entry and that I was spoken about. It is funny how my online reputation far exceeds the time I actually have to have one. *lmao!*

My response:

Hi Dutchess!

Someone asked me if I knew of a female that had a history with Nicky, and for some reason since the name mentioned had "Lady" at the beginning, the only other name I could think of that had something to do with him at some point with royalty in the name, was you.

As for why Nicky accused me of being you? Honestly, he was getting desperate trying to figure out who would have known him so long that they had saved shit of his from a decade ago, and your name was among many he threw against the wall.

Example: This entry from April of 2008 (which I just now saw Dutchess herself found already lol!)

Nickolaus Pacione said...

Douche Webb = Exposethetard.

April 12, 2008 11:21 PM

Her response from a few days ago

Duchess Webb said...

Douche Webb? Wow. I have been so far out of the drama loop and yet he finds strange ways to drag my online name back into it. What a strange and sad little boy Nicky is.

May 27, 2009 12:33 PM

That he is. In fact, I was creating a new entry here to show some of his most very recent postings elsewhere, and how they back up the correct theory that Nicky starts online feuds the second he has something to sell. It may be my fault, however, because in February of 2008 I posted an old blog entry of his where he welcomed Dutchess to livejournal. Nicky has a habit of bringing up old feuds with people from years and years ago and coming to conclusions using old enemies all the time, so there is a chance it wasn't my fault he thought I was her. If I was, my apologies. Dutchess is a good person and it should have been her, not Nicky, who got to run livejournal's goth board. For the record: I have had no dealings with Dutchess nor her me. It may amuse you to know however Mrs. Webb that since you last dealt with him, he was bitchslapped off the internet by a female no less, and now is online very little anymore. He also released an autobiography that has been read by thousands, but only one person bought it.

Speaking of updates, I have that, as well as a new video sent to me, and to top it all off, one of the GMC (Guy Montag Crew, who may want to change their name in light of recent news lol) informed me that while they still have a few leftover books waiting to burn, they are about to recieve another book of his that will be sent to them very shortly to add to the fire...

Expose The Problem

Nickolaus Pacione is looking for a beer and there isn't any around. Damn it I need a bottle of beer and a shot of whiskey. Found himself a new bar at the Joliet train station. Craving a boilmaker. 05/28/09 4:02pm

Lest anyone think I am laughing or celebrating, I am not.

Let's go back to 2008 when I was shown certain pieces of a conversation someone had with Nicky. The following is only a small snipet.

To: **********************
Subject: Re: new subject line lol
Date: Fri, 31 Oct 2008 21:52:35 -0400
From: nickolauspacione@aim.com

I was wanting to go to this pub crawl in Morris, Illinois but couldn't get my ***** to drive me out to the bar. He went to bed so I am stuck. Well once my *********** goes to bed I will walk over to the local bar and get a whiskey to celebrate getting the magazine out there.

Granted, his latest craving for hooch may very well be him celebrating something, however there has been too much evidence in the past to indicate he "celebrates" far too often. Honestly I could go on about how he really has never had anything to celebrate since every attempt at making it in the business has been a complete and utter failure, but I won't. Wait I just did I guess.

It was a year ago he made a drunk call to an enemy of his and instead got his enemies parents. When one of the parents noted Nicky sounded drunk, he became enraged.

Certain meds are not meant to be mixed with alcohol. That is very dangerous. So on top of his other ailments, he is probably risking his health moreso in doing this.

Not to mention the rest of us having to hear and read his rants. At least we are spared from having to watch any of his videos anymore. Him getting bitchslapped off the net and being reduced to having less time on the net a day than an inmate seemed to cure that. He failed to convey the anger he wrote into actual words from his mouth and what resulted always reminded me of a rabid pitbull who had been neutered repeatedly.

Oh well, we'll always have this

Embarassed About Tabloid Purposes 5?

Has anyone seen Tabloid Purposes V (5) around anywhere for sale? Most recently he has been whoring Tabloid Purposes IV, hell even 2 and 3, as well as still trying to sell A copy of An Eye In Shadows which only sold one copy yet has been read by thousands of people.

And the kicker is that he is taking submission calls for Tabloid Purposes 6:66, but there is no 5 that I can see, not one he is whoring out anyway. Then there is this (from Rusty's site)

Nickolaus Pacione on July 2, 2008 at 9:42 am

Jerrod — you want to bet your company on Tabloid Purposes V? The stakes are high bitch. I am sure you’re a gambling man. I get Tabloid Purposes V out by October in fully operational form and sevenheads, you give up your company. I own it. Ownership for your pub company vs. one of my publishing companies, not lake fossil press but another imprint. I am sure your sporting. Imprints that will be the bizarro anthology planned, you get ownership of that company if I get a fully operinating line up of unknown authors. You lose your company but gain a small imprint start up. Leave Tabloid Purposes alone and you leave any my titles well enough alone and gain the readerships you sabotaged. Do you have a deal?

Nicky suffered greatly after someone got a sneak peek of the actual cover of Tabloid Purposes V, the official and final version you can see here, when Nicky became enraged that someone leaked the cover he made early, which he wrongly blamed on a woman on a particular website. He began stalking her, again, along with threats and name calling, all of which caught the eye of someone from Something Awful and the thread that was started there became legend bringing Nicky hundreds upon hundreds of new enemies and trolls.

All of that, and the apparent lose of Lake Fossil Press to Jerrod (Nicky's deal, he said he'd have to give it over) and it's not even available for sale? Nicky could say he has or had it somewhere for sale already, but he's re-pimping IV as recent as a few days ago, along with others in the low selling series and other books thousands have read and a few have burned but never purchased, yet he never, ever, mentions Tabloid Purposes V. It's like he's ashamed of what he put together OR, he didn't complete it on time and rushed to get 6:66 out before the goons who already started their own Tabloid Purposes 6:66 could release their's, and in doing so forgot all about 5, and his claim that he'd give over his "company" if it wasn't released to Jerrod.

Oh that's right: Cowardly drunk Nicky said not Lake Fossil, but one of his "other" companies, which I don't see on his LinkedIn featured over at Rusty's, so I guess Lake Fossil is the one he has to give away.

Unless anywhere here has bought, read, or burned Tabloid Purposes V?

A Challenge Has Been Issued!

"Still swiping my work. that is a violation of copyright and I know where you got it from. How long do you plan on stealing my work? Plagiarizing bitch."

Wah wah wah. Do something more productive, like make more videos or...

Get a girlfriend.

Tell you what: If you get an honest to goodness real girlfriend, one we can confirm is actually dating you in person not online, not someone pretending to be dating you but an actual woman who calls you her boyfriend, for every week you two are together I remove a blog entry with an old story that even you don't own.

There would have to be rules in place. I'm not saying we would require her number or home address, but you simply telling us you are dating someone and we have to take your word without seeing who she is or hearing from her won't count. We'd have to see her picture, know of at least one online name and someplace she posts so we can see she is real as well as see her admit to dating you, and most importantly, while I have nothing against those who have long distance online relationships, she'd have to be someone who lives near you whom you could actually take out on dates. Pictures of you two together would be perfect evidence as well and would cause me to have to remove a blog entry each time you posted one.

Whatever you do, don't use the excuse that you are too busy to look for love because everyone including you, knows that is bullshit. You've had ten sexless years trying to become a writer and editor and after all this time, you are neither. Instead of having the respect of your peers and more importantly, readers, you are still a laughing stock and the butt of many jokes from actual real authors in the industry who actually have fans. For all the books you've "released", none have made any money, not one, leaving you so poor you had to resort to crying on Associated Content and padding those bitchfests with extra wording to gain more page views so you could afford a burger. You can post word counts and tell us you are in the middle of some project all you want, everyone including you knows the end result, which will be a piece of shit no one will buy. So don't bother passing up this challenge by telling us you are too busy with your career because you don't have one and never will.

If you need something to put in your personal ads I can help you with that. This blog has a number of old personals you've written hoping to find love, and I'm sure any one of them could help you find your "Morticia Addams" in no time!

So, do you accept my challenge Nicky?

"looks like the sister blog has nothing to say for two months after trying to crush me every chance"

Oh Nicky. I have plenty to say, and always have.

I haven't gone anywhere. I haven't shut down. I've just been waiting. Waiting for you to go back to who you really are. When you were put away, many felt pity for you, as did I. Many wished you well in recovering, as did I. Only my wish was for you to recover from being an asshole, something you apparently cannot change.

So I've been watching, and waiting, and while I haven't been wanting you to act up again so I could start posting once more, it happened anyway. So many felt pity for you around that time. A group on another site decided to all declare they never took issue with you and you were this poor sick soul. The rest of us knew you were an hateful egomaniac who loves and pities himself too much.

Let's recap a recent blog entry to see just how far Nicky has come since his "visit", and see how this poor sickly soul has been working on bettering himself. Last we saw of him, he was a spiteful homophobic alcoholic who was constantly looking to pick fights over the internet and constantly threatening people, even women. He has had his internet access limited quite a bit, so has he learned his lesson in the few moments a week he is allowed online?

I go away for a few days at a nice hotel with money to burn, I had me a bottle of beer, and a can of SPARKX. If you don't know what that shit is, it's an energy drink with alcohol in it.

Most guys your age get hotel rooms with whomever they are dating or married to. You got a room by yourself and got drunk, again. So, he still drinks.

To the fag who said my technology taken away from me, you can go to hell.

Hell has more net access than Nicky. He hasn't made any videos as of late, which is a sign his technology was in fact, taken from him. By the way that last sentence had homophobia, name calling, and a wish for someone to, well, go to hell.

Ben if you're looking for a fight, I am standing here waiting for the day that I can kick you square in the face with a well placed roundhouse kick. You want to fight me pal, or you're just too busy sucking on your mother's left tit. I am standing here. You calling your little coward friends up to pick on me, grow some balls bitch.

Whoa, Nicky! Talk like that is what got you bitchslapped off the net, by a woman no less! Surely you won't continue your supposedly former negative actions like the ones that got you pulled off the web like a ten year old past his bedtime, will you?

Mark my words, I will put you in the morgue with my bare hands. I can walk too on temp insanity.

That sentence by itself is enough ammo to get you thrown back in, at the very least, enough to justify Kim completely removing you from the net. And since we document everything you write, know that if you try murdering anyone in the future, myself, Rusty Nail, and many others have saved the above sentence to make sure your imprisonment is long and full of large men who like butt loving.

I don't make threats and you suck on your mother's left tit.

That sentence is perfect as-is.

Your problem is you can't stand on your own feet to fight with me, you hide behind your recent group of assholes.

Still a lot of anger and violent fantasies. At this point, no one is going to be surprised or feel pity when autoaim sets his sights back on Nicky.

So, I'm back. According to a few emails I have received, so are the book burners. From what I have been sent, Nicky has decided to go after them again after they stopped, started bashing them again, and now they are gearing up for more videos. He's back on Rusty Nail once more, and many of his other online foes seem to be noticing Nicky's recent pleas for negative attention, and it appears he is once again going to get it.

As for me? Well dissecting his current blog posts is really Rusty's thing. My thing was always reposting old bits Nicky wrote on the net or elsewhere, pointing out his past lameness, but also showing people that he was just as bad a decade ago as he is now. I've also on many of those occasions shown how Nicky has the ability to turn any tragedy into something about him. Some tragedy somewhere can magically be written to make him the victim.

And that's how I'm going to end my comeback entry! So let's get into the time machine and go back to 2002, after a scaffolding accident at the John Hancock building left 3 dead and 7 injured, and see how Nicky was able to make it about...Nicky.

(note: This asshole knew nothing of paragraphs at this point, so the following is harder on the eyes than usual, and for that I apologize)

John Hancock Building

This weariness plays in the mind as I am writing this — that in the weariness and worry playing out reflecting from a dream that I had the prior night. I know now that it has to be written and said because the horrors are what eating me inside. In the knowing that even when time had grown to place the horror in the distance that it is always going to cast an ugly shadow in the nightmares as they are seen as they are written out. A week passed since that bizarre and disturbing accident unfolded before everyone's eyes who were in downtown Chicago. From the years in the time that I have lived in Illinois; there were many things of a nightmarish nature I have witnessed with my eyes — but as I am writing this now, one cannot begin to even fathom the horror that took place over the past week near the John Hancock Building. That it comes in the mind of someone who lived in the area — the nightmare had played out in the mind of something like that happening when I was in the train station. The questions that will haunt the mind of the death coming from the horror that the accident left behind — all that horror of the people who had their children at home and left now half orphaned because of the accident that happened at the John Hancock Center. The writings in the mind knowing that what was seen from the pictures depicted of the absolute horror as this is captured in pictures and words — the falling of the scaffolding from the 40th floor of the sky scraper, the day where a mother lives out their nightmares as they watched their children die before their eyes and being helpless to prevent it from happening. Images of horror being from the macabre mix of blood, broken glass and twisted metal — the death of the three being in the mind as I am wondering what if something like that was to happen when I was in Union Station. I had nightmares about the glass and the statues falling in the Grand hall, of all the shit that was happening in the past few months. It is what described the nature of hell — repetition. It is in repetition where the nightmares are even more horrific over time. In what is described the nightmares as I drift into the states of altered sleep; one will best describe the dreams as an alternate cosmos and being the colour out of space. I sit in the front of a glowing screen in the darkness trying to find answers that I will never have. The questions of what happened and the reasons behind the nightmares are the answers that I will never come to know. Where it comes in the questions of the now — the words as they are falling within the dreams and nightmares as they are lurking within the near future among the thoughts as they are there in the mind. In the mind as myself -- where the dreams drawn the body from a physical weariness. Where it shows among the pages as I write them here — the journal which I had kept over the period of a year and the fear as it is written out knowing that once it is written one can look back at it for future notations. It is where I appear in the great hall of Union Station where I can see the seas of blood coming down the stairs — I find myself losing my mind and sitting beside myself in what the thoughts are as they wander in the mind. The horrors as they are written out here — of the twisted and distorting in the eyes of the one appears as the thoughts of the pure and lovely in the other. I know by now my mind is drawing from the emotional distress of the horrors that are drawn around me — where fact is more horrifying than the fiction that had been written over the years. It is in pages as what is written here the truth is that mind who is in torment is coming to terms with their fear of the unknown. I cannot begin to come to terms with the fear of the unknown as it is seen in the pages from the journals of my dreams — the nightmares as they’re reflecting the horrors coming of the unknown. Where nothing — it is nothing that can be described as true beauty is where in truth even that is in a perverse distortion. In the blackening holes of the mind where the nightmares as they are written become personified. Descending into the depths among the fire — that it comes where I stand before the sea of blood flowing down the stairs. The dream sequence of the horror which took place on March 9th, 2002, being in the sense that no one can really begin to make sense of the accident. The nightmares as they are written — being the sense of images of a descending inferno, that being the horrid remains of the fire of a hundred years past. Where the black smoke fills the sky and the blood fills the ground in massive seas — where the horrors of after it remains. Where one comes and tried to lay down for the night with the worry playing out after the fear of the unknown became written on the faces of those who could not anything but watch. Where I find myself within the depths of the sleep that I want to awaken but not able to awaken. It is within the forsakening thoughts of where in the dreams as they are being among the depths of the black cosmos — where in the depths of the thought being where in the nightmares are written and watched in the mind being among the absolute horror. I am taking to the thoughts of the weariness of the mind where the nightmares play in the mind where it projects itself as a theatre in the shroud of darkness. Among seas of the nameless that is already as it remains as the Atlantic Ocean had been turned to blood along with the Great Lakes — where it comes among the nightmares tainted the ways of the ones who were left behind in the raptures of the deaths of the multitude. As I sit here before laying down for the morning; the thoughts as they are in the mind were from the dreams as they are winding among the being where they stand. It was while still in bed where I find myself in the midst of the dream that I describe in the horrors from the loud earth shattering crashes from the devastating winds. Overwhelming horrors as it is in the mind — where the written thoughts inhabit the nightmares descending into the depths of the sleep impending. I study the pages while I am recording the nightmare as it was still in my mind after 24 hours from the last sleep. The horrors among the mind as the mental picture is vividly painted — where I was riding around in the car with a few friends when I saw the thing falling from the sky. It is where everything that is in reality appears as an episode of Twilight Zone; as where I was first getting on a plane alone for the first time in seven years — being where the dream being in the matter of seeing a creature tearing the hell out of one of the aircraft engines. It was in the mind of the horror being in the matter — where it is overwhelming thoughts of the aftermath of the past few months. In the mind where everything plays out in the overwhelming worry of the mind where the dreams are evident as they mirror the fears that become — in the becoming of the nightmares of the unknown. In the paths that are in the unwritten thoughts of the mind — it is the depth of the thoughts that haunt the psyche when the sleep descends and the eyes are staring at their openings. In the moments where as I would feel as I have the appearance of being in a coma — but for a short period, my heart racing with the mind as it sees the horrors where one should not even begin to write what they seen from their dreams. Infinity where one comprehend where I cannot understand the hellish repetition of what is there in the mind. This is in the mind as I am writing the details among the pages of these journals as they are in the collective of the mind — where it stands of the torment of the mind. As this where is it upon the pages, that it is in the narratives of the emotionally strained by the horror among the screen glowing from the news of what took place and unfolded before them. Understanding the questions of a tormented being among the words that one tries to find or understand where they see the horrors as they slip into their hours of sleep. Where in the horrors seen from in the thoughts as they are in the reflections inside the river along the streets of the loop. In the words among the mind where the final thoughts as they are falling. The darker confusion — where it stands among the thoughts as they are written in the back waiting for the horrors as the dreams play out from the ones who are still alive; seeing where they saw the last hours of their loved ones. The nightmare of the sound crashing from above; where the unknown fears inside the dreams where they are seeking for the reasons why. In the questions and the reasons why where they are not to be found — in the seeking for the reasons that are from above why that their God taken their family members before it was their time to say their mournful good bye. The reasons they don’t begin to understand where they are forced to say their mournful goodbyes over the daughters who died not too much older than myself. So young — as it is tormented in the sense where they were forced to witness the horrors as they are haunted by the absolute horror. Where it would appear as a combination of a Jack T. Chick tract and the pages of a horror novel which had came to life before the eyes of everyone around them.