Me, TOS, And The Parody Blogs

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.

That's "Mr. Bandit" To You

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!

I LUV My New Shirt

Lust In The Dust

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

Trying To Add More Color To My Diet

The Dummy Firing Squad

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

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

Peekaboo...I'll Beat Up You

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

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

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

My Lies. Served Tasteless and Cold

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

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

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!

Wash My Mind Out With Soap

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

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

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

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

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.