Reindeer Droppings

Me, TOS, And The Parody Blogs

2008-11-20T04:00:00.000-08:00

Note to Google: First, no one is "impersonating" Thomas Tarquin Churchwell on any blog. He knows that this blog, and the Breaking News blog, are parodies. He also knows these blogs are based on content published by him on his own sites. This person is a pathological liar and cyber bully. He was reported to you many times in 2006, 2007 and 2008 for writing degrading blogs in womens' names, with sex themes and cannibalism. He was reported to you for threatening other bloggers. He was reported for creating a blog in a minor's name, and posting the child's picture, and writing comments on blogs describing sex acts with the child. He has a long history of violating your TOS (some of the violations are listed in the following post), and don't you keep records of complaints??? Incredibly, you took action only once, when he infringed commercial photography and posted it on three of his Blogger sites. For two years, you suggested that victims try to 'work it out' with the tormentor. Unbelievable. Your other suggestion was to contact local police. That's all well and good, but victims cannot file a police report without first going to the state where the creep actually lives, hundreds of miles away. If he shows up in a victim's yard, as he threatened to last February, only then will the local police arrest him. As for suing him, what is the point of suing a deadbeat who has no assets? This one has been unemployed for more than a decade and lives on welfare. Trying to ignore him never stopped his abuse, so the only legal recourse left to his victims was to exercise their rights under the First Amendment, and speak out! Cyber bullying and cyber stalking are huge problems, Google. Many female bloggers have given up blogging because of these losers. Will you review the following parody post, and review the cache of his blogs on AOL and Blogger?

(Final Revision)

People are saying that I, Thomas Tarquin Churchwell, must be in the throes of a comic psychosis. I have been quoting Google's Terms of Service, as if I care about a TOS!

In case you just dropped in from Mars, I published many, many sick blogs on Blogger from 2006 to 2008. My TOS violations probably began there, on Blogger, when I was using the names Tarquin Churchwell and The Amazing Tarquin.

In addition to these hate-clogged sites:

http://tarquinchurchwell.blogspot.com
http://tarquinstruth.blogspot.com
http://tarquinstruth1.blogspot.com
http://tchurchwell.blogspot.com
http://thomaschurchwell.net

I also published this garbage on Blogger. In some of them I impersonated women!

http://howtobeamoronfreak.blogspot.com/
http://childpornofreakphotothief.blogspot.com
http://childpornofreakcunt.blogspot.com
http://thefreakinhellscloset.blogspot.com
http://susanandscarlettcookedtheirkidsandatethem.blogspot.com/
http://scarletts-art-thief.blogspot.com
http://scarlettisaliarandastalker.blogspot.com
http://childpornofreak.blogspot.com
http://scarletttherealman.blogspot.com
http://susannewtonisachildabuser.blogspot.com
http://susanandscarlettlickeachother.blogspot.com

Anyone need a moment to vomit? Okay, so when things got uncomfortable for me on Blogger last winter, I started posting on AOL as Thomas Churchwell. I used the alias "photoartist12." People remember that on AOL I stepped up my attacks on women and posted death threats. To convince readers that I was really serious about hurting women bloggers, I wrote a long, creepy post about an incident in New York six years ago, when I beat a man so bad that he can't see anymore. I really got off on the part about me licking his blood off my hand!

A few of my actual post titles on AOL:

* Churchwell: North Carolina's Child porno Queen in denial
* Charlotte North Carolina Child Porno Queen Scarlett S

* how susan newton uses 911 tragedy to post hate
* susan newton/bay area cyber stalker
* scarlett s, psycho cyber bully from north carolina

* Churchwell says, Scarlett the Freak is a liar
* Photo thief Scarlett S from NC bullies mentally ill
* Scarlett the stalker from Charlotte North Carolina
* Churchwell is coming to Stop You

The above titles were published by me between February and May 2008. When AOL closed its Homepage blogs, after receiving more than a dozen complaints about me, I ran over to Wordpress.

On my travels around the Web, I've had many detours, of course. At least one of my Blogger sites, called "No Sugar Allowed," was banned as a spam site. I was banned for TOS violations on several message boards and forums, including CourtTV. I remember a nasty time on one of the magic forums, when magicians were talking about the time I stole magic tricks from under the magicians' noses and gave them away! The Amazing Tarquin, as I called myself then, secured a spot in the Urban Dictionary as "a backstabbing, crappy magician." All of this is documented on the Web.

I never met a TOS I liked. Big deal, I think I should get a free pass on my conduct and be treated with tenderness and indulgence like a baby. I also think that if I'm not breaking any laws RIGHT NOW, then what I did yesterday don't count. People might still be reeling from something I wrote ten, or even a hundred posts ago, but as far as I'm concerned, that is yesterday's garbage, already gone to the big trash bin in my mind.

I think that if I'm not impersonating the Googlebot today,
or trying to destroy someone's business today,
or debasing women today,
or libeling people as child pornographers today,
or libeling people as drunks, liars, stalkers and thieves today,
or writing blog comments about having oral sex with a blogger's kid today,
or posting fantasies about the kid having oral sex with his mother today,
or telling people to die today,
or writing sicko sexual blogs in women's names today,
or buying ads in newspapers to slander people today,
or posting scatological stories about the Pope today,
or posting my own creation of a woman defecating on her photograph today,
or plagiarizing blogs today,
or defiling copyrighted art today,
or threatening to kill or maim today - whew!
As long as I did all that stuff yesterday, and haven't done it today (yet), then I should be wrapped in the arms of Google!

I have an incredibly screwed way of thinking.

I never feel guilty for anything I do.

And, here's another thing. Even though I have impersonated people on the web for two years, I am crying to Google: "I'm being impersonated!" I wonder why it is that I always accuse innocent people of the things I am guilty of myself?

Let's take a look at the definition of impersonation:

"An impersonator is someone who imitates or copies the behavior or actions of another, the most common reasons being an entertainer who impersonates a celebrity, making fun of their recent scandals or known behavior patterns, or a criminal who assumes the identity of another, in order gain property not belonging to them, for example."

Now, let's look at the definition of satire:

"Satire is defined as a literary genre or form. In satire, human or individual vices, abuses, etc., are described by means of parody, irony, or other methods, ideally with the intent to bring about improvement. Although satire is usually meant to be funny, the purpose of satire is not primarily humor in itself so much as an analysis of something which the author strongly disapproves, using the weapon of wit.

On the other hand, some satire has little or no humor at all. It is not "funny" - nor is it meant to be."

There you go. No one is trying to impersonate me. The parody author put a spotlight on my misogynist writings with satire - which is not a violation of any TOS. The purpose of the parody blogs has always been the same, to increase awareness of cyber bullying and help victims, who are mostly women, cope with being bullied. Victims need to know that they are not alone. Blah, blah, blah.

I have always understood that this is a parody blog. I also know that the Breaking News Blog is parody. Want proof? Here is a typical story from the Breaking News blog which I stole in September and re-published on my Wordpress site.

I gave it an enthusiastic review. My words are in bold italic:

Me and Abe Lincoln Sep 5, 2008 12:58 PM
By Churchwell

A Parody written about me by a unknown fan. I think it’s great and funny as hell. The best. I put it here to reach my fans who haven’t read it yet. If you wish to find the original author then put “Abe Lincoln and me” in the search and you will come to the original author who claims, get this, that he is “Me.” So I guess I wrote this. Dam I’m good. Nah. I didn’t write it but a true fan did. Enjoy it as I have. I quote:

"FADE IN
EXT. A stately brick building in Washington, D.C., June 1863

INT. Men in waistcoats and beards, about 15 in number, are gathered in a room furnished with wooden chairs, long tables, and a lectern. There is a din in the hall as the men greet each other.

SERGEANT-AT-ARMS: Hear ye, hear ye!

A gavel POUNDS the lectern.

SERGEANT-AT-ARMS: This Cabinet Meeting is called to order!

The men shuffle to their seats. Soon, another man enters the room. It is President Abraham Lincoln.

PRESIDENT LINCOLN: Esteemed members of my Cabinet, you are probably wondering why I’ve asked you all here today. Besides the grave necessity of discussing the status of the War Between The States, we have a guest speaker.

GROANS all around.

PRESIDENT LINCOLN: Gentlemen, please. Our visitor has traveled a long distance to be with us. In fact, he has traveled from one and a half centuries hence.

An agitated MURMUR ripples through the crowd.

EDWARD STANTON: One and a half centuries? I fear the War has taken a toll on your mental faculties, Mr. President. You are talking balderdash!

PRESIDENT LINCOLN: I assure you, Mr. Stanton, there is nothing wrong with my mental faculties.

WILLIAM SEWARD: But Mr. President, it is imperative that we discuss the approachment of Confederate troops into Gettysburg. There have been sightings―

PRESIDENT LINCOLN: In a moment, gentlemen. Lend your ears to our visitor, for he brings news that will astonish you.

More MURMURS.

An ominous CLAP of thunder sounds outside the windows. Inside, a BLINDING spotlight illuminates the double-door entrance to the hall. The doors swing open. A man enters wearing a blue leisure suit. He is lugging a rolling cart, which contains some objects that are hidden by a cloth. He guides the cart to the center of the room. Behind him enter a three-piece band, a caterer pushing a refreshment table featuring a pot of apple cider, and a photographer with a camera bag and camera. The band explodes in a lively rendition of “Get Out of Town.” The men rise to fill their glasses and then take their seats.

VISITOR CHURCHWELL: Abra-ca-da-bra!

He whips the cloth off a machine. A screen silently descends from the ceiling and a PowerPoint show commences. The men GASP and SHOUT in astonishment.

The gavel POUNDS.

SERGEANT-AT-ARMS: Order! Order! Come to order!

VISITOR CHURCHWELL: After I was asked to leave the twenty-first century by a unanimous vote, I decided to do some time-traveling. I heard that you need advice about the Civil War, and I am an expert on wars! So, I offer you three indispensable goodies. First–

The slide reveals an image of a small can packaged with a colorful label.

VISITOR CHURCHWELL: Spam. Mr. President, you historically have provided saltpeter to men of the Union Army, but believe me, this stuff can pretty much have the same effect.

The next PowerPoint slide reveals a man in a running suit.

The men MURMUR.

VISITOR CHURCHWELL: Second, we have Lycra. Tell your wives to add this to your britches. You won’t have to replace them as often. And, the time you spend in outhouses will be cut in half.

More MURMURS.

The third slide shows a desktop computer.

VISITOR CHURCHWELL: Finally, we have a little something called the Internet.

The men look puzzled.

VISITOR CHURCHWELL: Trust me, you don’t need to know how it works. You just need to know about this: BLOGSITE. It’s like a newspaper. But the beauty of it is that the facts it contains can be altered at any time. Don’t like your biography? Change it! Have you been a drinker? A slave owner? A philanderer, libeler, or traitor? It don't matter! You can rewrite history any way you’d like, and at any time you choose.

WILLIAM SEWARD: Mr. Benedict Arnold could most certainly have taken advantage of that.

MURMURS all around.

VISITOR CHURCHWELL: Soooo, dum dums. Whaddya think?

PRESIDENT LINCOLN: I hereby order our visitor to journey tonight to Gettysburg, where he will scout Confederate cannonballs and report directly to General Chase.”

The assembled Cabinet men rise in unison with their ciders aloft.

ALL: Hear! Hear!

EXT. Stately brick building. Its bells CHIME and CHIME as the visitor Churchwell, PROTESTING loudly, is escorted to a waiting horse.

FADE TO BLACK”

(A Parody about me written by an unknown fan. It is all over the internet! :) I hope you enjoy it as much as I do)

So, here are the two key points straight from my own mouth:

1. I know the blog is a parody
2. I like it a lot

Google, I DUPED YOU.

Now, let's see how my conduct matches up with the following list of violations against Google's TOS. Scroll down to see a summary of my violations.

PORNOGRAPHY AND OBSCENITY:

* Pornography and Obscenity: Image and video content that contains nudity, sexually graphic material, or material that is otherwise deemed explicit by Google should be made private. Otherwise, we may put such content behind an interstitial.

* Pedophilia, Incest and Bestiality: Users may not publish written, image or video content that promotes pedophilia, incest and bestiality.

* Commercial Pornography: We do not allow content that exists for the primary purpose of monetizing porn content or driving traffic to a monetized pornography site.

* Child Pornography: Google has a zero-tolerance policy against child pornography, and we will terminate and report to the appropriate authorities any user who publishes or distributes child pornography.

HATEFUL CONTENT: Users may not publish material that promotes hate toward groups based on race or ethnic origin, religion, disability, gender, age, veteran status, and sexual orientation/gender identity.

VIOLENT CONTENT: Users may not publish direct threats of violence against any person or group of people.

COPYRIGHT: It is our policy to respond to clear notices of alleged copyright infringement. More information about our copyright procedures can be found here.

PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: We do not allow the unauthorized publishing of people’s private and confidential information, such as credit card numbers, Social Security Numbers, and driver’s and other license numbers.

IMPERSONATION: We do not allow impersonation of others through our services in a manner that is intended to or does mislead or confuse others.

SPAM, MALICIOUS CODES AND VIRUSES: We do not allow spamming or transmitting malware and viruses.

And now, my violations against the Terms of Service (TOS) of Google, AOL and Wordpress:

1. Death Threats
2. Hate against women
3. Pedophile fantasies
4. Plagiarism
5. Impersonation
6. Copyright infringement
7. Publishing private information

Google has a list of complaints about me going back to at least 2006.

I've been screaming allegations to Google that I am being impersonated, but I admitted on my wordpress site that I am not being impersonated. I've been screaming "Hate!" like I always do about everyone, but there's no hatred directed at me. The parody blogs contain an honest, watered-down account of my hatred, in particular my hate for women. I've spent the last two years spouting hate on the real Thomas Churchwell blogs.

I should know that if I had something to do with what has happened to the Breaking News blog, people will shun me for that, even more than they shun me now.

Finally, note to myself: Quit playing the mental illness card. I am NOT a blameless, clueless victim who can't control myself. I know right from wrong. In the past few days, I have shown that I can control my behavior any time I want.

Thomas Tarquin Churchwell's Child Porn Compulsion

2008-03-31T19:11:00.000-07:00

This year, I, Thomas Tarquin Churchwell, accused three innocent people of child pornography. Because of my countless posts on the subject, and the fact that I haven't stopped after more than a year, people are now convinced that I LIKE child pornography.

I'm not saying if I dig kiddie porn, or not. But everybody knows that I HATE the world. Hate OOZES out of every post I write - except occasionally, when I get scared that my lies are gonna get me banned, so I slap another picture of a church on my blog, or mention God, or say unbelievably that "I love making people happy" for damage control. But most of the time, I write horrible lies about people.

I've always loved my lie about innocent women and men writing child pornography.

It's a game.

That's "Mr. Bandit" To You

2008-03-30T16:24:00.000-07:00

I have been calling people THIEVES for so long, my fans are bored out of their empty skulls. I get emails saying: "Tarq, when are you gonna stop? Instead of making up lies, how about posting some true confessions? Tell us again about when you used to steal watches."

Well, dum dums, I'm not sharing pickpocket memories this week. But here I am (symbolically speaking) in my new ski mask, which I helped myself to in black and 6 springtime colors.

YOU'RE INVITED!

2008-03-25T23:00:00.000-07:00

I LUV My New Shirt

2008-03-23T18:08:00.000-07:00

Lust In The Dust

2008-03-11T00:05:00.000-07:00

At the end of this movie, there's a shootout.

Trying To Add More Color To My Diet

2008-03-09T00:05:00.000-08:00

The Dummy Firing Squad

2008-03-04T21:50:00.000-08:00

Even though I am busy doing "damage control" - meaning the "hate index" on my other blogs is down to 99.8%, here is an image that keeps running through my head.

Enjoy!

The Dummy Firing Squad

See What Happens When You Don't OBEY Thomas Churchwell

2008-03-02T10:35:00.000-08:00

I told her to shut up, fans. I warned her.

Peekaboo...I'll Beat Up You

2008-03-01T02:56:00.000-08:00

This is Jack Nicholson, as he looked in "The Shining." I would have posted a picture of a beaten woman, but I've had enough excitement for one week.

Yep, I had a VERY busy week. Death threats, phony truces, libel posts and a billion lies. This should shut up the dum dums that say I don't do anything!

Hahahahahahahahaha!!!

Scarlett is Not Really a Photo Thief...tee hee

2008-02-29T10:40:00.000-08:00

Scarlett is NOT a photo thief and "confessed art thief."

I've been lying about Scarlett - a woman I've never met - for so long that people are asking what's wrong with Tarq. I'll tell you one thing that's wrong, in case you just dropped in from Mars.

I HATE WOMEN!

Thomas Churchwell Says: I'm a KILLING BUNNY and don't you forget it

2008-02-28T21:55:00.000-08:00

Here's a little known fact about me. I like to play with my fantasies and mix 'em up. Sometimes, I'm a killer - like last weekend, when I threatened to beat up bloggers and blind them. At other times, I'm a killing bunny rabbit.

Dream A Little Dream

2008-02-28T10:13:00.000-08:00

My Lies. Served Tasteless and Cold

2008-02-28T06:18:00.000-08:00

Despite my fenzied hate posts about Scarlett, she never said this blog is hers. I didn't "get her to admit" anything! Who do I think I am today, the secret police in Bagdad?

Everyone else thinks I'm a liar and cyber bully.

I BARE MY FANGS OVER NUDIES

2008-02-27T10:15:00.000-08:00

I had to think up a new title for this post, because I swiped the old title and used it on my hater blog this morning.

That's the kind of thing I do, fans. I LIE, CHEAT and STEAL.

I probably need a padded cage, but I can't think about that now. All I can think about are those PICTURES. I wanted NUDIES, and she tricked me! For two whole days, two years ago, she let me think those nudies were her! How could she do that to a STRANGER?

I think I'm gonna threaten to kill her again like I did last weekend.

Scarlett's site:
Tarquin Churchwell Lies About Truce, Defames Photographer

Everybody Out Of The Pool

2008-02-26T01:05:00.000-08:00

There's an old expression: "Dying is easy, comedy is hard." Look how easy it was for Thomas Tarquin Churchwell last weekend to write about wanting to cause the deaths of several people. All I had to do was write a dozen posts on AOL saying "Churchwell is coming to stop you," and everyone in the blogosphere ran for cover. I made the idea of death sound as easy as buying a bus ticket.

But comedy is hard.

How can I go back to making jokes on this blog, after writing about the time I beat a man so bad that I blinded him?

The man I blinded wasn't even famous!

I'll Read It To You!

2008-02-21T10:10:00.000-08:00

Fans, two of my personalities, Thomas Churchwell and Tarquin Churchwell, are finally becoming famous! Yep, The Online Report wrote an article about yours trulies. You can read it here or at the bottom of this post.

If anybody wants my autograph, email me.

Here's the article. Happy! Happy!

Churchwell Posts Laced With Poison

By Sam Eagle

Ubiquitous blogger and child pornography fan, Thomas Churchwell, AKA Tarquin Churchwell, posted sexual slurs against another blogger, The Online Report has learned today.

A source, who asked not to be identified, said Churchwell is delusional. "He seems to fancy himself a child porno king, and wants to drag other bloggers into his sick games."

According to published reports, Mr. Churchwell lives in a group home for the mentally ill. He has been unemployed for the past ten years.

An ongoing target is Ms. Scarlett, who Churchwell describes as a blogging rival, according to Internet sources. Records dating back to 2006 show Churchwell stalking this blogger, repeatedly trying to drive her off the Internet, and calling her degrading names. The Online Report uncovered numerous posts in which Churchwell referred to her as a "child porno writer." Today, Churchwell called her a "rejected online prostitute."

His rants are libel, friends say. "Not only is Scarlett respected in the community, she is a very strong person with a definite moral compass. People should know that she's a young godmother, loyal friend, a hard worker and member of her church."

A blogger summed it up this way, "Churchwell is sick. He won't leave her alone."

Insiders agree that Churchwell is on a downward spiral. Said one, "Thomas Churchwell hates women."

No word yet whether Churchwell is planning to resume therapy.

February 19, 2008 at 7:14 AM

Wash My Mind Out With Soap

2008-02-19T08:29:00.000-08:00

Last night on my Thomas Churchwell hater blog, I wrote that a post on this blog is "child porno." If this sounds weirdly familiar, readers, you have seen my hater blogs. I posted the same crap, when I was blogging as Tarquin Churchwell on Blogger and refused to stop, even after the Blogosphere heaved a collective vomit. Now, I'm at it again on AOL.

Here's what I'm talking about. In the story posted yesterday (read it below), I am an ADULT monster, NOT a child. I have gnarled fingers and hair covering my naked body. I state that I want to "ravage" a woman and encounter one on the street, who doesn't want me. Then I return to SUS, the ADULT facility where I live, an unhappy "man-monster."

So, here's the wrap up. I have a looking for child porno hobby. I like to scream, "Child porno! Child porno!" because I like the words. I've been typing them on blogs for a year, or longer. Makes me look like a TOTAL WACKO.

Because I LOVE Being a Monster

2008-02-18T09:15:00.000-08:00

Whether I am using the name Thomas Churchwell or Tarquin Churchwell this morning, I have a scary story for you. Close the blinds and hang on to your coffee mugs.

I love Halloween. I like that children walk around acting as if they are ghouls and goblins, as if it is a joke. It isn't. If you're wondering why I am talking about Halloween in the middle of February, it's because I think about Halloween every day!

I told myself to be careful that night. I was about 12, short, fat and energetic. I was walking in a neighborhood near home, and it was late. I wanted to try it...to see the scary decorations. Before I left, I put on my Star Trek costume and Spock mask. I looked like I was ready for anything, but nothing could prepare me for...THE MONSTER.

I told myself to stay out of the alley. But I needed to pee. I heard a garbage can turn over, then I was on the ground, staring into the beady eyes of the monster, blood dripping from its gnarled fingers. I screamed. He bit me on my arm and ran away. Somebody rushed me to the hospital. I only got a flesh wound. I would live, unfortunately. At that moment, I didn't know that living was a fate worse than death!

I never talked about that night. I didn't tell my parents, my sisters or brother. Years later, before I ran out on them, I didn't tell my three children. I tried to forget. Last week, I picked up the phone. I suddenly needed to open up to someone, to unburden myself. So I dialed a number at random and told a stranger my story.

The following is a transcript of the phone conversation.

"I've had a lazy life, working for a little while but nothing in the past ten years. I used to date a lot of women, mostly topless dancers. In recent years, I've caused a lot of misery on the Internet. That part of my life was good. The biggest difficulty I had was my arm - where the monster had bitten me. The wound burned like hell sometimes - like a thousand needles being shoved into my skin. I started making mistakes on my blogs, getting my lies mixed up. I started hating more people. My body felt weird, like it was growing! I noticed hair sprouting all over my body. I had an insatiable urge to eat chicken hearts, even raw right from the meat department at the grocery store.

The worst was when there was a full moon at night. I would howl like a wolf. All I could think about was finding a topless woman, and devouring her on the spot. At first I tried devouring women on the Internet, but that stopped working for me. My body grew grotesque and I was popping out of my clothes. Full of blood-lust, I staggered down Beach Street, naked, my nostrils flaring, fangs ready, growling as my nose smelled the scent of a woman. She was standing outside CVS, holding a plastic bag, when I stood up on my hairy hind legs and raised my fingers, ready to attack. She screamed at seeing a monster on a city street, but as she looked me over, she started laughing hysterically."

"Your penis. It's so small!" she laughed.

"I could barely say, "Fuck you!" before I ran from her, the cold Queens air slapping me in the face. I raced up the stairs of the SUS building and ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. Disgraced and embarassed, I spent the night watching Star Trek and eating raw chicken hearts. I was a failure as a man-monster."

"Did you go to a doctor?"

"I went to my Medicaid doctor, Dr. McFreud. I told him that I used to have a smallish sized penis, but ever since I became a monster, it had shrunk."

"Very in-ter-est-ing, Thomas," said Dr. McFreud.

"I'm not Thomas anymore. Or, Tarquin, or TC, Dr. McFreud. I am The Monster."

"I understand. But your insurance still has you listed as Thomas. It's better that we stick with that."

"Yes, thank you. What about my penis?"

"Well, the tests show a tremendous surge of adrenaline in your system, and it is having an affect like steroids. It is changing your body in many ways, one of them being that it is shrinking your penis."

"How can I be a happy monster with such a small cock?"

"I'm sure there are monsters with all sorts of penises. Six per cent of the population is sociopathic, Thomas. Your small penis shouldn't really affect your performance on your blogs, when you go searching for prey."

"Well, it's affecting my performance OFF the blogs. I've always hated women but now that I want to ravage one, I can't!"

"I see what you mean. Here you are, looking scary and dangerous from the waist up, but one little thing below the waist is making victims in the street laugh at you."

The stranger on the phone asked, "Did the doctor give you anything?"

"He gave me some pills, but they didn't help. I just got headaches. I tried herbs, Chinese root, voodoo and dealt my Tarot cards every night - nothing worked. Finally I enrolled in a 12-step program for dysfunctional monsters. There was a witch who couldn't get off her broom, a vampire without teeth, and a ghost who was too scared to scare anyone. Losers."

"Did the group help?"

"No, but I became chummy with the witch, Laureanana, and we hit it off. Man, was she wild! One day when she saw me looking at my small penis, she opened up an ancient book and started chanting:

Fooga Fama Figga
Make his penis bigger

As she finished the chant, the room started to shake. I was whirling like a top and landed on the floor. I stood up and looked down...Laureanana had succeeded! My cock was three times as big! I grabbed her, threw her on a table and screwed her for almost two minutes!"

"That's great."

"But the story isn't over. The true horror had not even begun!"

"Oh, no!"

"Even though Laureanana let me move in with her, and also let me use her phone 24/7, and I was by now a successful monster with a giant penis, I found it hard to commit to just one woman."

"I hear ya."

"After coming home from a long night ravaging topless women, I was not in the mood to do the dishes, or talk about "her day." I told her that if she got another yeast infection from her broom, she should stop being a witch and stay home and cook and clean for me. She didn't talk to me for a week."

"Relationships can be tough."

"One weekend, Laureanana came home from a witches convention early and caught me in bed, fucking a friend of hers. She went crazy, called me every name in the book. I tried to tell her it was her fault. After all, she was the one who gave me my new penis. Wasn't I supposed to share it with the world?"

"Monsters feel that way, sure."

"She ran to her book of spells, and chanted:

Boodle, yoodle, woodle
Turn him into a noodle

And the damn harpy turned me into a noodle. That's what I am right now. Can you imagine how difficult it is to use my phone and computer?"

"So, you're not a monster anymore?"

"I'm still a monster. I LOVE being a monster! But my body is a noodle!"

"I'm sorry."

"And the scariest thing is, she did this just to punish me for my transgression."

"Cruel."

"Women who are wronged are the cruelest."

"That was the SADDEST story I have ever heard."

Pass the Popcorn

2008-02-15T08:30:00.000-08:00

This post gave me a migraine. How can I write about my ex-girlfriend's deception without also writing about MY deception? I can't, they go together like green mold on stale bread. I could post something about the "deer-in-the-headlights" - that's the people who received my ex-girlfriend's eye-popping emails - but I don't know anything about THAT.

For now, I'm tired of the subject.

She was just one hundred seventeen, you know what I mean

2008-02-14T05:24:00.000-08:00

Fans reading the title of today's post are saying: OH, NO... Is this going to be another Tarquin/Thomas post about imaginary old ladies? Gotcha! Today's post is NOT about my old lady thing, or topless women, or my "child porno writer" fantasy, and it's not another post about my ex-girlfriend, Miss Nipples, though this is where the tension builds.

No, the question on everybody's mind today is: Where can you go for a romantic Valentine's getaway, if you don't mind spending ten thousand dollars?

To answer this question, I looked online and found a place in the UK. The Hard Days Night Hotel opened this week in Liverpool. The 110-room, four-star hotel is located across the street from the Cavern club, where the Beatles got their feet wet. It features a rare Yellow Submarine jukebox in the lobby and candlelit restaurant called Blakes, who was the art director of the Sgt. Pepper album. The John Lennon suite has a white piano. The hot tubs are shaped like guitars. Then there's the wedding chapel, and it's not a place for argoraphobics, because, according to the article, the chapel is a "windowless, mirrored room accessed by a narrow spiral staircase." Of course, at $1200 a night to stay in the suite, you should be snoring like a chainsaw.

And, if you are alone today, romance can be around the corner..or, it can be WORKING a corner.

He he he.
Administrator's note: "I Saw Her Standing There" is no longer playing.

Just the Tip of a Very Naughty Iceberg

2008-02-13T05:42:00.000-08:00

I, Tarquin Thomas Churchwell, am ready now to clear up the mystery of The Three Rhinestone Buttons.

First, I was so unimpressed with the guesses. I read all of them and answered a few. Some of you had a harder time than others. I was lucky, since I actually knew what the buttons meant.

(flashback)

"Daddy! Daddy!" they cried, and I skidded on the linoleum, and did the mambo around the Thomas LEGO Train that I swore their mother put in the toy box just an hour ago. "I'm coming," I yelled like Ralph Cramden. Who would have thought that becoming an unmarried father would be like this -- a life full of dangers? When I entered their room, Tommy Jr. was playing on the floor, and Tommy the third was still wrapped in his blanket that has my picture on it, his finger extended, showing me a "boo-boo."

My friend Bob entered the room, interrupting the flow of my story.

"Master, what are you writing?" He looked over my shoulder at the monitor. "Do you have two sons?"

"Do I? While I was cleaning my closet, I found this."

Bob squinted at an old snapshot on the table that showed me sleeping. "Not that," I said impatiently. I held up a crumpled old jacket. "I used to wear this jacket in the 90s. See, it has three rhinestone buttons...Do you believe in repressed memories?"

"Hmmm...no."

"Is it possible I had two extra children and I forgot?"

You mean like you went shopping and forgot where the subway is?"

"I do have a habit of forgetting people's ages...but this..."

Bob clapped a hand on my shoulder. "If anyone would forget they had two extra children, it would be you..Where's that hard drive you said you couldn't find?"

"I found it." I smiled at my hard drives stacked on the table beside the picture of me snoring with my mouth open.

"Oh, well," Bob said, "maybe this is one of those things that seems real, but isn't."

"I still have the jacket, though. Wait, I remember. I told everyone the three buttons symbolized my three kids!"

Bob was staring at the jacket. "I could use that as a rag, if you ever want to part with it."

"In case anyone asks, do not blab."

"Asks about what?"

"About my two extra children!"

"But why are you writing your post like a father?"

"I read on MySpace that one of those parenting blogs is looking for a writer. I think they pay, and it would be a way for me to get some attention. But I'd have to write about topics such as "Daddy Lost His Prozac."

"Oh, yeah? Write away, Dad."

Bob seldom makes jokes. I taught him to be respectful. He was still chuckling, and beginning to irritate me, when I had a thought. "I wonder why there aren't any "Men Who Hate Women" blogs that pay bloggers?"

"I don't know, master. I suppose they have no appeal."

I shrugged. "Every day it would be the same article -- "New Ways To Hate A Woman -- Part 82." I probably should just stick to the Daddy Chronicles. Except I don't know anything about kids. I'll just write something else today."

"Why?"

"Why? Why? Why so many questions?"

"Just curious."

"I don't know why. Something in here (I tapped the side of my head with my finger) wants me to do it and I follow like a sheep. That's why!"

"What can you write about every day? Do you have that much to say?"

"I write about my life. My SUS turmoil. The people I hate. My female readers are always curious about what I'm like in bed."

"I think this photo of you sleeping might give your readers some idea."

And with that, we laughed and laughed.

Note: I want to thank my old girlfriend, Miss Nipples, for telling the world that I have three children. Without her, this post couldn't have been written.

Reason No. 28 Why I Am a Valentine Victim

2008-02-12T18:03:00.000-08:00

I will get back to the Three Buttons soon, and delve into other mysteries. But I want to use these seconds before bedtime to reflect on Valentine's Day, which is two days away. Here is a conversation I once had with a girl about Valentine's.

Her: I wish you wouldn't make me pay for my own Valentine card. That takes all the zing out of the day.

Me: I can't believe you just said that. You're so retarded.

Her: I really hate it when you use that word like that.

Me: What? Retarded? That's how you're acting. Retarded.

Her: Do you even know how high my IQ is?

Me: It can't be that high, because you're retarded.

Her: 120. My IQ is 120.

Me: So what? Mine is 1072.

Her: IQ, TC, not your apartment number.

Me: Retardo!

Get the idea? I think I'll go lie down now and scratch my belly. Nighty night!

Why Would I Wear Anything Else?

2008-02-11T02:04:00.000-08:00

This reminds me of a jacket I wore in the 90s...

Wanna guess "who" the THREE BUTTONS signified in my life? Leave a comment on the blog. The guess that comes closest to the truth wins a NO expense-paid trip to Queens and lunch with me in the SUS cafeteria!

Administrator's note: "Rhinestone Cowboy" is no longer playing.

In Which My Head Nearly Explodes

2008-02-10T09:15:00.000-08:00

I posted a lot of hate yesterday. Fans, I want every Google search of my name to turn up nothing but bad, bad crap.

Sometimes I blame my blog tirades on manic depression. Sounds cool to say this, because a lot of celebs claim they have it. But is this really what's wrong with me? Or, is this like the times when I indulge my persecution complex by saying I'm a Jew? I am not a Jew, nor do I have many of the symptoms of manic depression. I probably have what's known as a borderline personality disorder.

One of the “haters” jotted down some notes, so that I can show them to my therapist. It's unlikely I will do this.

Again, these are NOT MY THOUGHTS:

I can’t tell the difference between lies and truth.

I blame others for everything that happens to me.

No insight. I do not see myself as others see me.

My relationships. I alternate between neediness, arrogance, rage and suspicion. I use people and can't identify with them.

Paranoid thinking. I am always on the lookout for an attack.

No job. I actually resent having to do anything and expect praise all out of proportion.

I don’t understand cause and affect. I attack people and become outraged, when they react. I think I should get a free pass on my conduct and be treated with tenderness and indulgence like a child, because I am “ill.”

I spend so much time getting myself in and out of trouble, in making the most complicated efforts not to work, or to face my problems, that I have no energy left for normal thinking.

I use my good qualities, like my sense of humor, in a negative way to ridicule others.

Throughout my life, people have tried to help me, but I am stuck in Victim-land. Only I, with the help of a patient therapist, can pull myself out of it...

BLAH. BLAH. BLAH.

This Is Not Miss Nipples

2008-02-09T07:04:00.000-08:00

This is Britney in happier times. I'm with you, Brit.

My Crock Pot Runneth Over

2008-02-08T05:30:00.000-08:00

Can you feel the love tonight?

It was just one week ago when I went bonkers on my blogs again and I've been dealing with the inevitable fallout in my usual way. I did not apologize to Blogland, or to the woman I attacked. Instead, I've been writing blog posts about you, fans. I've been writing that you are sending me waves of love in emails, and that I am loving you back.

Yep, I've been lying my head off again.

The question everyone's been asking this week is: will Tarquin/Thomas go bonkers AGAIN? Does a pancake stuck to the ceiling always fall? HA HA HA. I love it when my blog posts make me laugh.

I wrote a poem about love (a variation on an old song).

Ode To My Crock Pot

Sometimes in the evening when shadows are deep

I stand here beside you, just watching you steep
And sometimes I whisper what I'm thinking of,
My crock pot runneth over with love.

Sometimes in the evening when blogging is done
I reach for a chopstick instead of a gun
I memorize big bites that I'm fondest of,
My crock pot runneth over with love.

In only a fortnight we both will be old
I won't even notice your bad smell and blue mold
And so in this moment with starlight above,
My crock pot runneth over with love!

With love!

"Show us, show us, show us how you do that trick."

2008-02-07T18:14:00.000-08:00

Dummies have been asking for a year, "Tarquin/Thomas, how is it that you go on lying rampages, and then act as if nothing ever happened? How do you do that crummy trick? Is your conscience on cruise control, or something?"

The way I do it is easy. I get my mask on.

famous Chinese mask

A Man and A Woman and A Deer In the Headlights

2008-02-07T18:10:00.000-08:00

Yes, fans, I will explain the picture that I posted on Tuesday.

Keeping you informed

2008-02-06T01:36:00.001-08:00

In which I cut to the chase

2008-02-05T06:50:00.000-08:00

TARQUIN CHURCHWELL SAYS: I WON'T STOP LYING

2008-01-31T22:13:00.000-08:00

When people want to read lies, they can go to Tarquin Churchwell's hate blogs. When they want to read the truth, they come here.

As everyone knows, I have been lying my head off for more than a year, and probably much longer. When I was a kid, my parents took me to a psychiatrist to find out what was wrong with me. I've had a life long problem telling lies.

I sit here in my underwear, still unemployed, and posting big wads of lies about women I don't even know.

Fans, this picture was my dream. It was all I ever wanted...

TARQUIN CHURCHWELL ADMITS LIES ABOUT SCARLETT

2008-01-31T17:25:00.000-08:00

Today I posted lies about Scarlett that I've written so many times, they have a beard. Here is the TRUTH. Scarlett is a nice girl, though it makes me puke to say it. She has NEVER written "child porno stories." Susan does NOT live in the "slums." Scarlett is NOT an "online prostitute", whatever that means, and she definitely is NOT an "old hag."

I have been libeling and harassing women for more than a year on my blogs. He he he.

Slight Discomfort Mixed With Utter Denial

2008-01-31T02:40:00.000-08:00

How do I, Tarquin Churchwell, feel about talking to my therapist?

Not good!

And how the hell do I have time to bullshit my therapist? Remember, I'm a busy guy sitting at home in my boxer shorts. I'm constantly updating my hate lists, for one thing. I have my blogs to write. And I need time to dupe people from my past. And to draw decent art that is stalled. And to watch reruns of Seinfeld. I'm a busy guy!

But once a week, I have to go to therapy.

Note: My new name, "The Artist Formerly Known As Tarquin", takes too long to type. I'll refer to myself in this post as TAFKAT.

So, I was sitting across from my therapist...

Therapist: So, how do you feel about it?

TAFKAT: I'm pissed off.

Therapist: So, what did you do?

TAFKAT: I went to my blog and wrote. That made me feel better. I always feel most comfortable just sitting around and writing lies.

Therapist: What did you write about last night?

TAFKAT: I wrote some blog posts about SUS and about some woman on the Internet.

Therapist: Hmm...

TAFKAT: Although no one reading it would guess, I must have been venting about my childhood.

Therapist: Do you think you were venting about your childhood?

TAFKAT: Isn't that what you're always telling me, that I substitute people on the Internet for my parents? Not that I believe it.

Therapist: So, writing this blog is an important outlet for you.

TAFKAT: Yep.

Therapist: Maybe you could use it as a form of therapy? A way for you to think about things. What do you write about mostly?

TAFKAT: Same thing every day. I call people names. I write about women on the Internet and about SUS. I'm even writing about barnyard animals. In the beginning I was nicer. Now I don't care.

Therapist: Really?

TAFKAT: Jesus, I can't believe I'm telling my therapist the truth about something.

Therapist: Why do you think you call people names and lie?

TAFKAT: Because they won't get off the INTERNET!

Therapist: Really?

TAFKAT: Okay, why do you think I do it?

Therapist: I think this will take some time to explore, and our time is almost up today. Have you been thinking about your childhood since our last session?

TAFKAT: I'm too busy blogging.

Therapist: I've never done this with another patient, but your blog seems to be a large part of your life. Your fantasy life. Do you think it would be a good idea, if I read your blog?

TAFKAT: Oh, I thought you had been reading it.

Therapist: No, I wouldn't read it unless you ask me to. Do you want me to?

TAFKAT: Sure. Why not? I'm always looking for a fan.

Therapist: I don't know too much about blogs. How do people find you?

TAFKAT: From the search engines.

Therapist: Do a lot of people come to your blogs?

TAFKAT: Well, it depends. I like to think hundreds come to my hate blog. Right now, there's only one person from Pakistan, and I have no idea if that dummy is actually READING anything I write.

Therapist: Let's make next week a special one. We'll sit by the computer together and you'll show me some of what you write on your blog. I want you to show me things that can best help me to understand you better. Let's make your blog part of therapy, since it's so important to you.

TAFKAT: Okay, but do you realize I'm going to write about this on my blog tonight?

Therapist: I have no doubt.

Brrr. It's Still Snowing In My Brain

2008-01-30T21:00:00.000-08:00

Thoughts From The Trail

2008-01-29T02:59:00.000-08:00

The question on everyone's mind this week is: How come you can talk about the weather, but you can't do anything about it?

Bet you thought the question was going to be something else. He he he.

Personally, I like the cold. Freezing weather coordinates good with my below freezing approval rating.

Many bloggers around the country spend their winters moaning. They think they got it bad. Ha! From the window in my room at SUS, I can see snow caps on the sewers.

And so, for the next few days, I will be showcasing music about the weather.

Enjoy this cozy time on my blog. By the way, I don't know what I would do without the "fans" who suggest this stuff!

Happy Trails!

2008-01-27T19:00:00.000-08:00

If I am REALLY going on "VACATION," I should get going!

Everyone who has been a target of my galloping lies:

The women on the Internet
Online merchants
Writers of books
My ISP
MSN photography forums
SUS

...will be glad, when I hit the dusty trail.

Administrator's note: "Happy Trails To You" is no longer playing.

Spam It!

2008-01-27T16:00:00.000-08:00

A Thumping Bore

2008-01-25T02:00:00.000-08:00

(Revised) I, Tarquin Churchwell, threatened another woman on my other blog today. Hooray for me, I'm a law breaker.

My threat was about this blog. I still like to say that someone else is writing it, but why do I blame Scarlett? She has never claimed to be the author! As for re-posting the recording of her voice, how many times am I going to bore my "fans" with this? I have been playing it for more than a year!

Can I say exploiter of women?

Before I re-post a short version of my post from Friday, here is an email that I sent to another woman on my hate list. The style of this note is clearly my own. Nothing has been changed. The bold lettering in the postscript is the way I sent it.

From: Tarquin Churchwell
Sent: Saturday, December 29, 2007 3:56 PM
To: Suzi
Subject: making up emails again?

I see you are so lonely you are making up emails from TATman just to pretend you getting his attention. Your not. Your dumb.
Gotcha Dummy. No one believes you. I dare you to post this email too.
Your dumb tiger turd!
The Always Amazing Right Stuff!!
(Maybe you could make up another email with your fake email maker and photoshop to make it look like they are from tarquin!)
GOTCHA DUM DUM!
(PS, Tell Scarlett I miss her voice. Please tell her to call me at 12 am tonight. She was the best thing I ever had.)

That email shows how mixed up I am, fans. Anyways, Scarlett didn't reply. She didn't call, email, or blog about my note. If she had called that night, I would have recorded her voice AGAIN!

Now the re-post:
Friday, January 18, 2008

I am playing that recording of her voice again, the one I made over a year ago. I had three weeks of online conversations with Scarlett in the fall of 2006. I lied to her and she got upset. The recording is a message she left, while I hid in my room and cackled.

I've been trashing her voice (AND beating off to it) for more than a year. This is bizarre, fans, even for me!

Top Ten Things I Hate...after women

2008-01-24T00:05:00.000-08:00

10. When Bob makes me break the icicles off his mustache

9. The thought of a hate-free Internet

8. People who ask, "Working hard, or hardly working?"

7. Having a perfectly happy day and then suddenly for no reason thinking of the numbers 666

6. Can't give people the finger with mittens on

5. The exorcist

4. Instead of sirens, I hear squad cars in Queens blaring my hate posts

3. Hanging around the SUS lobby disguised as a giant woodpecker

2. Anyone who says, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive."

1. Three letters: TOS

Free Event

2008-01-22T04:17:00.000-08:00

Anybody wanna see me beat off, while I make up fantasies AGAIN about CHILD PORN on my other blog? Turn on your computer cams, and watch me go at it.

Mr. Ed and Me

2008-01-18T00:30:00.000-08:00

Fans, last night on my other blog I wrote again about the Smoking Horse. I was sitting in front of my computer, pounding out my latest hate post, when I felt his presence.

"Mr. Ed?" I asked. "Is that you?"

The room shook like a stampede. The Smoking Horse galloped toward me, a pack of Marlboros in his shoed hoof.

"You switched brands?" I asked. He used to smoke Salems.

A light flashed across his familiar, blonde-maned face. He was lighting the cigarette.

"Hello, asshole," the horse finally said.

He stood next to me, blowing smoke rings through huge black nostrils. I waited for him to say something more, but like always, he flew out the window, trailing ashes behind him.

I Love It!

2008-01-17T00:05:00.000-08:00

When I post lies and hate on my other blog, I always get new fans! Look what I got in an email last night.

Uh Oh...

2008-01-17T00:03:00.000-08:00

I Recorded the Whole Thing

2008-01-16T18:30:00.000-08:00

Yay

2008-01-15T11:59:00.000-08:00

I almost forgot to post the stats for Reineer Droppings. Thanks for all your emails, and for making this blog a success!

Total 6005

Average per day 150

Last hour 23

Today (as of noon) 87

One more thing, I want to be clear about the pictures I post here. None of them are done by me.

Rock Me, Grandma

2008-01-12T06:00:00.000-08:00

Fans, last night I went bonkers on my other blog. I was filled with misery and it's still simmering in my brain like a pot of spaghetti. I know it will be okay if I continue my vent over here.

When I meet a young woman online, I immediately add forty years to her age, and then I imagine that she is hot for me. Since I started blogging, I've been fantasizing about screwing a little old lady.

I asked my therapist about it.

ME: I keep having fantasies about little old ladies, and I don't even know any.

Therapist: Do you write about these fantasies on your blogs?

ME: All the time.

Therapist: Why do you feel the urge to blog about it? Readers know you have a c**k, Tarquin. You don't need to remind them.

ME: What? I HATE women! The little old ladies who I make up in my head, I just want to cuddle. I think.

Therapist: There's only one therapy that will take care of that.

Asshole.

Naked Friday

2008-01-11T11:10:00.001-08:00

Big yellow Hawaiian banana

I Had A Nightmare

2008-01-09T18:50:00.000-08:00

Baliff: Here ye, here ye! The State of the Internet vs. Tarquin Churchwell.

Prosecution: Your Honor, in November of 2006, Tarquin Churchwell started blogging. He wrote that he "loves making people happy." But on 300 days out of the past 365, he wrote mysogynist posts, if you can call them posts, on various blogs, which were about women. He calls women "life sucking hags" and "witches."

(Gasps are heard in the courtroom)

Judge (banging gavel): Was the defendant alive during the Salem witch trials?

Prosecution: That is likely, your Honor. Hoping that the posts might actually be read by someone, Mr. Churchwell decided to keep posting hate about women. Thus, the same posts have been repeated, ad nauseum, creating no happiness for the State of the Internet. However, he refuses to accept reponsibility for his actions and willingly continues to post all manner of hate against others. We have no other solution but to take legal action. Thank you.

Judge: Mr. Churchwell, your response.

Tarquin: Your Honor, I will be representing myself. Sluts and asswipes of the jury. Every morning I wake up and do a little blogging. What do I blog about? I will get to that soon. When I am finished, I look at myself in the mirror, and say: Hello, god!

I consider myself a god as a blogger, one who operates under his own rules. After all, isn't my blog my own creation, one that spews forth from me? When I started blogging, I said that I love making people happy and I still post those words today. But who is to say that your definition of "happy" is the same as mine? Perhaps my happiness is actually your misery. Perhaps I am happiest when I am lying and creating hate. Why should God get a free pass in creating what He wants, and I have to follow your dumb idea of what "happy" means?

The only explanation is that those who insist that I be expelled from the Internet are the same people who hate the Almighty! Do you really want to be one of those people?

Judge (rolling his eyes to the jury): Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?

Jury: We have, your Honor.

Judge: Read it.

Jury: "In the matter of the State of the Internet vs. Tarquin Churchwell, we find the defendant guilty!"

Judge: Amen.

Pic of the Day

2008-01-07T14:00:00.000-08:00

Look out! Somebody else just read my other blog!

Tarquin Churchwell is Back on Broadway

2008-01-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

Fans have been asking, "Tarq, what happened to that book you were writing? Is it almost finished?"

My ghostwriter and I had an agreement for me write down my thoughts, and then give them to him to write a book. I figured one and a half pages of thoughts were plenty! He said he couldn't write a non-fiction book based on nothing but that. I got even by trashing him on my blog.

Last year I was stalled. Health stuff, relationship upheavels, and the knowledge that everyone is a dum dum, have been lousy for my writing. Except for hate blogging, which flourishes in times of chaos, I haven't been working on any projects that would lead to a career. One blogger sent me an anonymous email, suggesting I write one of those "How-to Dummies" books, but I have no idea what kind of book that would be, or who would buy it.

Another fan suggested I combine all my hate posts into one book. A project like that might be fun, but who would publish it?

Even my fan Bob would probably wait until it was half-price at the bookstore in Queens. Still, it's a new year...

What could my book be about?

"Me and My Penis... Strolling Down the Avenue" by Tarquin

"You Were Always on My Mind: A Stalking Memoir" by Tarquin

"One Man's Spiritual Search for Britney Spears' Thong" by Tarquin

"The True Story Behind My Trip to New Hampshire" by Tarquin

I'm more of a fiction person, anyway.

About three months ago, I received an email from an independent director in town (he made one Girls Gone Nude movie that did well on DVD). He wanted to know if I wanted to work on some pitches with him. A producer had seen a copy of his Girls Gone Nude video and was eager to hear some ideas. The producer was looking specifically for a certain kind of project, scripts that might appeal to young fans of slasher films. Sounded good, and I knew I wasn't planning to do any actual work.

My writing "partner" and I were supposed to meet the producer two months ago -- but the Writer's Strike stopped it from happening. So, I waited...and I don't like to wait.

To satisfy my fans, I have decided to star in a Broadway musical! A remake of "Beauty and the Beast" but this one is called "Beauties and the Beast." The reason for the title change is because two female bloggers were up for the lead and BOTH ended up getting the part. I like to call them hags, because I hate women -- he he he -- but they are so beautiful that the producer said, "What the hell, let's re-write Disney and have two heroines." And, that's what he did.

On opening night, producers will be sitting in the front row, and want to sign me for the movie, which will become a huge hit, and I will become so famous that men all over the world will stop calling their members "Dicks" and "Peters", but will start calling them "Beasts." Millions of women will be screaming for "Beast" every night!

You might know how the story of Beauty and the Beast ends. Once the Beast lets love into his heart, he is transformed. The producer, after seeing my audition and loving it, said, "Tarquin, I'm going to change the ending so that it will be believable."

That's all for now, fans. Bob is waiting for me in the hall, screaming at the top of his lungs like Ralph in The Honeymooners.

2008-01-04T04:11:00.000-08:00

Beds I have Known

2007-12-31T12:40:00.000-08:00

Like the reindeer thanked Santa after they had their first flight in a year, I want to use this day before the new year to thank myself for bedding 3,000,000 women, back when I was hot.

I can't believe it's been fifty years (it feels like fifty years) since I bedded all those women. Fifty years of short relationships and wondering what the hell "bedded" means, anyway. But like those hardy reindeer, I continue on, doing the blog work to build something that will live in infamy, making up lies and never asking for thanks, just knowing that one day my past will catch up with me and I'll be going to jail.

Oh, right. And about the bedding part...I love beds.

Here are some beds I have known:

Rusty's Bed
Rusty's bed was in a cave

Rusty was my first "bed-ee" of the heyday. She lived in a cave, a small hollow apartment scooped out of the side of a two-story building. After one bedding, we lost touch. Still, we always remember our first, don't we?...

Peaches' Bed
Peaches bed was in Georgia

At first glance, Peaches and I had little in common. I was a New York celebrity and fallen Catholic. She was a Baptist and the sister of a bigwig in the Klu Klux Klan. But getting herbed up can make strange bedfellows, and despite our differences, we immediately bonded over our love for Grade A weed.

Astrid's Bed
Astrid's bed was in New York

Astrid was a busy designer of rare beds, and this was one of her creations. In the photo, you can see her legs, waiting for me.

Cecily's Bed
Cecily's bed was in New Hampshire

When I met Cecily, she told me that she liked to sew. That night she knitted my undershorts to this quilt, and I was still in them. Geesh.

Mistress's Bed
Mistress's bed was in Manhatten

Mistress was not a shy woman. In fact, she was a pole dancer. She introduced me to S&M and banged my head against the metal bed frame for hours.

Doreen's Bed
Doreen's bed was in hell

She had more food wrappers on the floor than Mickey D's. "You are the banana, I am the tomato," she yelled, as I inched my way to her bed. Unfortunately, I slid on a wrapper, broke my collarbone and was in traction for six weeks.

Lucy's Bed
Lucy bed was in New York

Yep, that night it was me, Lucy and Ricky. Ricky snored.

Monique's Bed
Monique bed was in France

During my brief stint in St. Tropez, I met Monique on the beach. Look at the European artistry of her bed!

Cashmere's Bed
Cashmere's bed was in upstate New York

Cashmere was highly allergic to pillows and sheets. She was called Casper at the time, because this was right after her sex change operation. One day, I levitated her bed. See the picture?

Petal's Cat
Petal's (never seen) bed was in New York

She said, "Well, TC, there is nothing I enjoy more than eating a hot dog, then riding a kooky man, my perfect breasts bouncing, until I'm orgasming to the music of Queen." I went home with her that very night. Her cat wouldn't let me go in the bedroom. Bad pussy.

When I think about the women I bedded, I also remember the ones who got away...but that's another story, fans.

Analyze That!

2007-12-30T14:29:00.000-08:00

Hi, fans. Today is another example of a post gone wrong.

To set up the story, we need to go back in time, back to a fall morning many years ago, when I was born. After a year of booties, my mother bought me a pair of baby flip flops. I liked the smell and feel of this new foot ware. I could bend them, manipulate them to my will! They smelled like rubber, which I thought of years later when I got interested in S&M. Anyways, for years and years, I wore a pair of flip flops...or nothing at all.

For the past few years, I have been wearing size medium flip flops in royal blue. They're not the greatest flip flops, and they are not practical in winter, but they're comfortable. In the winter, I wear them with socks.

A couple of weeks ago I went with some of the SUS inmates to the city to look at Christmas decorations. I was in New York for hours. Whenever I travel to New York on the subway, there is always a lot of tension before I go. There are the inmates, for one thing. And for another, I worry about being cold in the street and walking. Remember, I have been sitting at my computer for years. It is hard for me to walk even a block to the grocery store.

As I dressed for my Manhatten "trial run" in gloves, hat and scarf, sweatshirt and leather jacket, I looked down at my flip flops and said, "These flips flops look like shit."

I sighed noisily.

"The sides are loose and the bottoms are shredded."

Double shit.

"Fine," I said. "I'll go the the 99 Cent Store and buy new ones."

Off I went to the 99 Cent Store. I could have gone to Target, but as a guy who spends all his money on software and cameras, why pay more than 99 cents for flip flops?

I quickly found the flip flops in aisle six, next to the athletic supporters. One display had royal blue flip flops. The other display was identical, except for the addition of a special "bonus pair." Along with the pair of royal blue flip flops, this pair included ONE black flip flop. I squinted at it through the plastic packaging.

Now I've already said I like a bargain. Why would I buy the first pair, when I could get the "bonus pair" for free? At this cost, I could buy two pair and get ONE black PAIR, which I could wear for whatever.

On my way home I chuckled. Something was so funny about these black flip flops. I laughed as hard as I did when I sent my last spam email. When my friend Bob knocked on my door, I was still laughing.

"What's so funny, master?" Bob asked.

"I have another great post today. Look at this," I said.

I opened the 99 Cent Store bag and showed Bob the flip flops in the plastic packages. "They sell you a pair of blue flip flops, and then they throw in an extra bonus of a black flip flop. But think about it. What are you supposed to do with ONE black flip flop? Just wear one shoe? Ha Ha Ha!"

I explained how I bought another pair of flip flops, just so I could have a pair of black flip flops. Still laughing, I sat down and hunched over my computer, pounding out my latest post.

Bob cleared his throat.

"Whatever it is, not now," I said. "I'm in the zone."

"Tarquin, you better unzone, because I opened the package -- and it isn't a pair of blue flip flops and one black flip flop. It is two pairs of poorly made blue flip flops and one pair of equally poor black flip flops. There are TWO black flip flops, not one."

"Shit!" I said, my mood falling like a body from the top of the Empire State Building. "So that means my whole post is dead."

"Well, you could do what you usually do," said Bob.

"Lie? On my blog?" I started laughing again. "Just give me a minute to spin it."

"Yes, sir."

I struggled for awhile but couldn't come up with anything as good as the tale of the single black flip flop. I procrastinated and downloaded some software. I tried on the new flip flops. As you can see, not only were the 99 Cent flip flops bad quality, but I realized they were too big.

The situation sucked. Since I bought two packages of the flip flops, I now had four pairs of crappy flip flops -- two pairs of blue and two pairs of black. Still, a blog post is a blog post, and the truth sounded better than anything else. THIS time.

Inside this cookie it's too dark to post

2007-12-30T08:00:00.000-08:00

Tarquin Churchwell's New Year Resolutions

2007-12-29T07:25:00.000-08:00

If there's anyone who needs to make a list of New Year's resolutions, it's me, Tarquin Churchwell! Here are my Top Ten resolutions for 2008:

10. Start new diet of cheese-filled weenies

9. Stop calling Mr. Barnett at 3:00 AM for relationship advice

8. Finally get named People magazine's "Creepiest Man Alive"

7. Limit myself to four hours of Internet phone sex per day

6. Update my hate lists

5. Raise financial backing for my one man ice show -- TARQCAPADES

4. As a plea for Scarlett's forgiveness, sit for three days in a bathtub full of grits

3. At least once a week, break a law I've never broken before

2. Stop laughing when I refer to myself as the "morals guy"

1. Keep smiling

Naked New Year

2007-12-28T00:05:00.000-08:00

It's Naked Friday again! Look at the detail in this photo. The workmanship. The craftmanship. The airbrushing. The spine has been stretched, and her waist is ten inches.

This Just In

2007-12-27T10:37:00.000-08:00

Boxing Day

2007-12-26T00:05:00.000-08:00

The fun suggested by Boxing Day has nothing to do with family members who have been looking forward to beating each other up all year. No, this holiday, celebrated the day after Christmas, is traced back to mid-nineteenth century England, where people of the upper classes gave cash in boxes to people that worked for them.

I can think of at least 20 people that I'd like to punch in the face right now!

2007-12-24T00:05:00.000-08:00

Season's Beatings

Kind of Blue

2007-12-23T18:45:00.000-08:00

I love getting emails from fans that say: "Tarquin, your Reindeer Droppings blog was so funny. You made my morning." I like them so much, I reread them every night. Christmas is almost here, and while I should be glad that I, Tarquin Churchwell, made it through another year without getting arrested, I'm feeling kind of blue. I don't know if it's the crappy gray sky, the cold, or missing therapy this week. Even writing hate posts and eating the perfect sugar-free gummy bear (thanks, Lylah!) haven't gotten me out of the rut.

My legal work at SUS is on the back burner, since a real lawyer threatened to sue me. There is the rent coming up, and thinking about that makes me nervous. The confusion over everything has created problems with sleeping and my dreams are weird. Last night, I combined all my hatred for women, SUS, and the world into one figgy pudding of dreaming.

In the dream, I had just talked to the SUS staff. My lease brouhaha was winding down (no thanks to me), and it was looking like I might have to pay my rent! I needed money, so I looked online. I ended up getting a job (!) with a police crime unit. I was hired to be a special interrogator. My daily assignment: a squirmy blond suspect would go down on me, and from her "chomp", I would learn all these facts about her. "She's 22, listens to Snoop Dog, is missing a back molar, and loves Wheaties," I would tell the Police Captain, as the suspect lifted her head from between my thighs. "She's a graduate of PS 169 in the Bronx, and she is lying about not hitting her husband over the head with a tire iron." My authority was never questioned, and the grammar school graduate was thrown in jail for murder. But instead of feeling good about my "interrogation," I had the creepy feeling that she had tasted me without flossing.

After this dream, I woke up with a headache. And now there's two more weeks without therapy. God help us all.

The Incredible Shrinking Yule Log

2007-12-22T06:20:00.000-08:00

I don't have a post to go with this. I just liked the title.

Wasting Away Again in Macbeth-ville

2007-12-21T01:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I slurred the mother of Jesus and compared her baby's conception to a teenage grope.

Big deal.

Here are some last minute wacky gift ideas. If you haven't got your shopping done, you may as well strangle yourself with your Christmas tree lights, because you won't find anything now. I can still order the following stuff online:

Get Noticed

If you're like me and want to be the center of attention, wear this wacky Singing Santa Hat on Christmas day and you'll get noticed. One size fits everybody.

Singing Santa Hat $19.99

Baby Steps

According to the website, these Freud slippers will help you "take small steps toward psychological wellness." Right.

Freudian Slippers $24.95

Gesundheit

With flu season coming up, a box of tissues will come in handy. This Sneezing Tissue Box has a motion-activated cover that makes six different loud sneezing noises each time you reach for a tissue. Guaranteed to scare the snot out of you. Ha Ha!

Sneezing Tissue Box $14.98

Wizard

"Will I be famous some day?"
"Should I get a job?"
"Will I ever stop lying?"
The Fortune Teller Wizard answers all of life's important questions. Ask the Wizard a yes or no question, then pass your hand over him and he will foretell your future. Prediction: you're gonna love it.

Fortune Teller Wizard $40.00

Check Your Local Listings

2007-12-20T00:05:00.000-08:00

By the way, TV documentaries suck. Here are five Christmas Documentaries I hated:

* Keebler Presents: "Elf Autopsy"

* Frosty the Snowman: Big Where It Counts

* Xmas at Riker's Island: "It's a Wonderful 10-years-to-Life"

* The Blogger Who Ate Christmas: Why He Did It

* Tarquin Churchwell Remembers the Very First Christmas

Look Out!

2007-12-18T16:30:00.000-08:00

This is going to be the coldest winter ever. The Top Ten Signs:

10. Pickpocket put his hand in my pockets to keep warm

9. I walked across frozen ocean and saw dozens of SUS informants beneath me

8. Squirrels in the park have ice on their nuts

7. The cockroaches are wearing scarves and mittens

6. Woman down the hall charged $10 just to blow on my hands

5. When new program director got hit by a bus, he shattered into a million tiny pieces

4. Headline in New York Post: "Tarquin Churchwell mugged in Queens for Ear Muffs"

3. Only 200 rats left alive in my building

2. My teeth are chattering

1. Britney's wearing underpants!

Is Your House on Drugs?

2007-12-17T17:45:00.000-08:00

I get billions of emails every day, and they all say the same thing: "Tarquin, are you ever going to stop being a pain in the ass?" What a DUMB question. Does Rudolph's nose ever stop blinking? Ha Ha Ha! I love it when my own post makes me laugh.

Here are a whole lot of holiday light displays from around the world:

Rockefeller Center, New York City

Painting of the National Christmas tree in Washington, DC.

Hanukkah light display in Pennsylvania

The iced palm trees in front of this house in the Phillipines give it a little something hallucinogenic.

The Queen of England don't know how to decorate.

Charlotte, North Carolina

Not a Creature Is Stirring Inside My Head

2007-12-16T15:00:00.000-08:00

As I was just saying on my other blog, I have known a few intelligent women in my life... Isn't it a SHAME I never say anything nice about them, until they are dead?

What's Up With That?

2007-12-16T13:45:00.000-08:00

What’s up is the bottom of the tree. Hammacher Schlemmer sells this upside down tree with 800 white lights as "a solution to the problem of living in small spaces." Cool if you live in one room like me. The shape also gives you more space to pile up presents for me underneath.

Upside Down Tree $600

More Wacky Gifts

2007-12-16T00:05:00.000-08:00

Looking for something wacky to give your insignificant other for Christmas this year? Here are a few ideas:

I LUV YOU!

Nothing says “I love you” like giving someone Herpes -- just ask Paris Hilton! Giant Microbes has come out with a line of plush and cuddly STDs. A steal at $7.95 apiece, you couldn't get anything cheaper from a real hooker. Also available: Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, and Syphilis.

STDs pillow $7.95

KAMA SUTRA GOODIES

Here is a little book of Kama Sutra poses acted out by ginger bread characters. The pictures are cool, and the "position captions" are just as good. Each pose has a recipe, with a little cookie talk thrown in.

Cookie-Sutra Book $7.95

PEPPERMINT TREAT

As everyone on the Internet knows, this year I wrote about batteries and vibrators a lot! Guys, when you can't be near the one you love, this festive 10 inch vibe will keep her happy! The website says they've sold millions.

Candy Cane Vibe $19.99

ROCK HIM LIKE A HURRICANE!

What if you have just met someone but are afraid he will turn out to be like me? Be safe with your very own lie detector! What makes this thing so much fun, is that when a person is caught in a lie, he gets a painful jolt of electricity. The subject slips his hand into the special, ergonomic hand clamp, and you ask a series of "control questions" that even I could answer truthfully, such as: “Who is the president of the United States?” Then... ask what you want to know. When the lie detector senses lying -- ZAP! How much does it hurt? Well, according to the manufacturer, there are two settings. The "Low" setting hurts a lot. No one has ever had the guts to try the "High" setting.

The Shocking Lie Detector $21.95

I'm OK, You're a Dum Dum

2007-12-15T09:49:00.000-08:00

I want to thank you, fans, for all the emails about my recent post: 'A Tarquin Churchwell Christmas Carol.'

The note that made me puke the most came from reader Sally B. She wrote, "You know what kills me about people like you? That you actually think you are UNIQUE."

How deep. My first thought was to email back: "F*** you!" I felt like sitting her down, tying her to a chair with heavy rope, and not letting her up until she 'understood' why she was being a dum dum.

Hehehe.

In therapy, my therapist sits still. He doesn't moe around or talk much, except for an occasional comment about TV. I hate the patient/wise Yoda relationship. I hate insight. I think I could overcome my fears if my therapist just came out and said, "Holy shit! You are nuts. But not as fucking crazy as me trying to find meaning in another rerun of Seinfeld. Let's take a handful of Abilify and go out for burgers."

I understand, Sally B.

My Balls

2007-12-15T00:05:00.000-08:00

Yep, they are big and blue.

Administrator's note: "Blue Christmas" is not currently playing.

Tarquin Churchwell's Christmas Songs

2007-12-14T14:25:00.000-08:00

Who said Tarquin Churchwell doesn't like Christmas? Here are my top ten favorite Christmas songs:

10. Santas roasting on an open fire

9. Come on, it's lovely weather for a lap dance together with you

8. I'm dreaming of a libel Christmas

7. Grandma got run over by a Range Rover

6. I saw the crack dealer kissing Santa Claus

5. On the first day of Christmas, a blogger gave to me, one restraining order

4. It's a beautiful sight, I'm happy tonight, probably because I'm so full of gummy bears

3. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to lie on my blog all day

2. The little blogger boy

1. Joy to the world, the time has come, I'm going to jail!

Santa Centerfold!

2007-12-14T00:05:00.000-08:00

It's Naked Friday again! As you can see, Santa has leprosy.

Pic of the Day

2007-12-12T19:30:00.000-08:00

Actually, this is the wacky gift of the day. You turn it on, and the lips start moving! Or, you can press a button in the back and the lips will call you insulting names. Yep, twenty-three names are included on a chip. This is my kind of gift.

S&M Moving Lips Radio, $29.95

A Tarquin Churchwell Christmas Carol

2007-12-12T02:35:00.000-08:00

Last week, I was feeling very Scrooge-like.

"Why am I writing this stupid Christmukkah blog?" I asked myself as I trudged up Beach Street, spitting on the ground. "I don't even like Christmas. I don't celebrate Christian holidays."

I walked by a make-shift Christmas tree lot, set up in the parking lot of a Mickey D's restaurant. There was snow on the ground and crappy Christmas music was playing from a speaker on the ground.

"Bah humbug!" I said. "I'm going to close my Christmukkah blog. I don't care about the holidays and I don't care about people. All they do is catch me in lies on my other blog. And their "holiday cheer" is phony. After the holiday, they just go back to being dum dums and morons!"

That night I started writing a blog post explaining why I was cancelling Chrismukkah posts, and basically insulting every person I've ever met.

All the anxiety must have made me very sleepy, because I fell asleep before I had a chance to press "publish." That had never happened before.

I was awakened by the presence of a shadowy figure.

"Scarlett?" I asked. "Is that you at last?"

"No, Thomas. It is the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Yikes.

"The Ghost of Christmas Past? What do you want?"

"What is this bullshit about you shutting down your blog this year?"

"Uh, why do it anymore? Hanukkah is already half over. And I'm not even Jewish. I don't like Christmas either."

"But don't you remember how much you loved Christmas?"

My Ghost reminded me of a happy Christmas when I was a kid.

"Well, you're a more sentimental person than me. I'm selfish. What's in it for ME?"

The Ghost started to fade.

"Ghost, where are you going?"

"Thomas, you old pathetic fellow, your heart has turned to stone. I'm unable to change your ways. Now the BIG GUY will come for you."

"The big guy? Who are you talking about? Are you talking about God?"

The entire room shook like a tornado. Smoke filled the room and another ghost walked toward me. He was older than me, and short. He was dressed in a blue suit and had dark, bushy eyebrows.

"Thomas..." he spoke.

"Who are YOU? Are you God?"

"Of course I'm not God, you schmuck. I'm Irving Berlin."

"Irving Berlin? You're the Big Guy?"

"Irving Berlin. Songwriter, born Isreal Baline. My father was a cantor in the synagogue."

"So what? What do you want from me?"

"I also had doubts about Christmas. What do I know about Jesus? But then I said to myself, 'What do the goyim know about writing a Christmas song?' It takes a Jewish imagination to come up with "White Christmas." Some wonderbread in a cardigan like Bing Crosby sings it. He gets the glory, but I get the babes."

"Babes? You got women from writing "White Christmas?"

"Come, Thomas, let me take you to my Christmas past."

Irving Berlin took my hand and we flew out the window. We flew from Queens to Manhattan...and then to 6th Avenue and Radio City Music Hall. Suddenly, we found ourselves in a penthouse apartment. In front of us was a scene from the past -- a younger Irving Berlin dancing cheek to cheek with three naked Rockettes.

"You see, Thomas. Shiksas love Jewish men who can write a good Christmas song."

My eyes widened. For once in my life, I was speechless.

"You mean if I keep writing my Christmukkah holiday blog this year with all these female bloggers around...I will...?" I asked.

"First, let me show you what will happen if you DON'T write the Christmukkah blog this year."

The composer grabbed my hand and we flew back to Beach Street, into the future -- to MY FUTURE. Time blew away like sand through my fingers and we found ourselves in my room, watching the future Tarquin. It was Christmas Eve 2007, and I was sitting by myself, the computer in front of me and...my pants unzipped.

"What am I...am I looking at online photos of Britney Spears' vulva and playing with myself?"

"That's what it looks like!" said Irving Berlin. "Ha ha! The best part is that in a second a staff person is going to enter your room with friends she invited over for coffee and arsenic cake (which is another story!) and everyone is going to be shocked, especially Toto, the woman's young dog."

"This really sucks. I can't stand it. Stop it! Stop the future!"

"What about the blog..."

"Ok, Ok, I won't close the Christmukkah holiday blog. Just take me from this future. This is shameful! Take me away!" I screamed.

I grabbed the arm of the ghost's jacket and we flew out the window and into the night.

"I understand now. Thank you for letting me see what could happen. I am a changed Tarquin. Or, at least I am changed for this one minute. I will not badmouth my blog. I want to make people happy and not just SAY that I do. I want to please the female bloggers so much that I get three naked women kissing my cheeks, just like you did! Please, Mr. Berlin. Show me the other future. Show me the REAL Christmas Eve after I write the Christmukkah blog."

Time swirled like a tornado and we were back in my room on Christmas Eve.

"Here is your REAL future, Thomas."

I was sitting in front of my computer, still leering at photos of Britney and my hand was reaching for a can of Crisco...The staff person was about to open the door, her friends and dog behind her.

"What the fuck!" I yelled. "It's the exact future as before! What about the blog? What happened to MY three babes?"

"The blog is great. But you with three women? What do you want from me, you schmuck? A miracle? I'm Irving Berlin, not God!"

Top Ten Signs I'm Freezing

2007-12-10T17:45:00.000-08:00

10. This morning I had to defrost my computer

9. I spilled McDonald’s scalding hot coffee on my lap and liked it

8. The rats are climbing in bed with me to stay warm

7. Inmates are hugging me

6. The staff is wearing long underwear

5. In cafeteria, inmate hit on head with bowl of congealed jello dies

4. Drug dealers selling "nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, achy, stuffy head" crack

3. I can see my breath when I yell "Fuck you!"

2. My fingers are stuck to my keyboard

1. My ass is frozen shut

Pic of the Day

2007-12-09T11:24:00.000-08:00

I Got a Letter from Santa

2007-12-09T00:05:00.000-08:00

Santa is an asswipe.

Rot My Blackened Heart

2007-12-08T14:35:00.000-08:00

Do I, Tarquin Churchwell see myself as a hating hipster? A callous creep? A bored out of my skull bozo? You bet I do! This morning's post on my other blog is chock full of hatred and lies.

Will I ever stop?

By now everyone has heard about my "child porno" obsession. I get a tiny thrill each time I type the words "child porno" -- and woo hoo, I have typed the words 9000 times in the past year alone.

Not Really a Post

2007-12-08T00:03:00.000-08:00

Thanksgving survivors meet in Central Park

See If I Care

2007-12-07T14:23:00.000-08:00

Santa is gonna leave a lump of coal in my stocking.

Naked Friday

2007-12-07T02:20:00.000-08:00

In the tradition of Hateful Monday and Fuck You Sunday, I, Tarquin Churchwell, would like to welcome you to my hottest blogging craze -- Naked Friday.

Yep, it's Friday. You've worked hard all week, unlike me. But before you go home and have a relaxing weekend, why not sit back while I tell you how dumb you are.

Ha ha ha! Why not look at pictures of semi-naked women, is what I meant to say.

Pictures like the one below don't faze me, fans. This is because I am an artist. I can look at naked pictures all day long, and never hear my penis talking inside my pants.

Anyone remember Caesar? He had a blog for awhile, then he stole a car and dropped out of sight. On my Bat Droppings blog there's a photo of him with a pumpkin tattooed across his butt. Anyways, this week Caesar (not his real name) emailed me again. Here it is:

From: "Caesar" ceasarl***@hotmail.com
To: "Tarquin Churchwell" tarquinchurchwell@msn.com
Subject: hottie in the haystack
Date: Tues, 04 December 2007 11:15:03 -0600

Tarquin,
Me and Chris are still hiding out. We left the Ozarks, and now we're living somewhere out west in a barn. We were fooling around the other night, playing Santa Claus, and Chris took pictures of me. Later Chris said, "Caesar, let's send this picture to our all friends in cyberland!" And, that's what we done! Check it out.

Up To You

2007-12-06T20:10:00.000-08:00

As usual, I've been snapping reputations like twigs on a Christmas tree on my hater sites, so I decided to lug my bulk over here and post introspectively.

What, you didn't think I knew that word, or that I could spell it? You thought that if I hadn't spent so much of my life doing evil, I would've had time to learn how to spell? Well, you're a bunch of dum dums.

I hate you, bloggers. All you ever whine about is:
"Read me!" "Read me!"

And I'm no different. I'm like a trained pooch trying to get attention from the humans.

At least some bloggers get paid to write.

Or if I hadn't blown it with Scarlett last year, we could be having phone sex right now -- and that would be one person reading my blog.

"But no," she said. "You're a big fat liar!"

I would quit blogging right now, but I have too much hatred in my heart to not ruin everyone's holidays. Plus, I'm a Libra. Very wishy washy. That's why I'm going to let Fate decide. Whoever writes the SECOND comment -- I want you to tell me whether to continue blogging or to quit after Hannukah or Christmas. Whichever comes last.

YOUR DECISION will be final, fans. You will decide the future of Tarquin Churchwell...

This boot was made for stalking

2007-12-06T00:10:00.000-08:00

You know You Want it

2007-12-06T00:05:00.000-08:00

I look cool in hats. This is my new Santa hat. Anyone touches it, I'm gonna shove a North Pole right up your ass.

Top Ten Signs I'm Already Sick of the Holidays

2007-12-05T17:30:00.000-08:00

There are still something like 20 shopping days left till Christmas, but I, Tarquin Churchwell, am already sick of the holidays. Here are the top ten signs:

10. I've got dark circles under my tattoos

9. I'm eating elf pot pie

8. When I hear, "Do you hear what I hear?," I scream, "No! I don't hear it, dum dum!"

7. I climb on the roof and start shooting SUS staff with my BB gun

6. Christmas trees are laughing at me

5. Instead of spending time with family, I'm thinking up lies to put on my blog

4. I got busted for riding the subway wearing nothing but a Santa hat

3. I got something that looks like eggnog coming out of my keyboard

2. My standard response, "And Merry Christmas to you too, asswipe"

1. Tinsel burn!

Bribing Santa

2007-12-05T00:05:00.000-08:00

I was 8, when I wrote this note to Santa. The year

was 1920.

Welcome to My New Blog!

2007-12-04T14:35:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Tarquin Churchwell's annual Christmas slash Hannukah slash atheist blog! This is the third and final blog in my trilogy of holiday blogs. My other blogs are listed below (the map pinpoints the geographical locations where they are based).

It's only going to get better from here!

Swerving across six lanes:

The Online Reporter wrote an article about me:
http://tarquinchurchwell-report.blogspot.com/

This is a "sneak preview" page:
http://tarquinchurchwellphoneconversations.blogspot.com/

A repulsed fan wrote this:
http://scarletttotchruchwellandall.blogspot.com/

And don't forget my trilogy:
http://tarquinchurchwell-droppings.blogspot.com
http://tarquinchurchwellbatdroppings.blogspot.com/

http://tarquinchurchwell-reindeerdroppings.blogspot.com