Misty Mahan Dantico — Remix

So, what did psycho bitch trollface do — start a “I Hate Candi Mathis” Facebook page where she copies everyone of my post?  You know, if I looked like her, the last thing I would do is worry about my Facebook/blog posts.

That bitch is so ugly her birth certificate is a damn apology letter.

From the condom factory.

The same share on every post — automatically.

Who else would it be but my insanely envious “fan” club.

You know, how pitiful do you have to be to try to cyber-stalk, cyber bully somebody like me.  Here’s the truth: Life has never been exactly hard for me, but it hasn’t ever been particularly easy. Like most people, for every extraordinary gift I’ve been given — there’s been a loss. For every up,  there’s been a down.  For every step forward, there’s been two back. I remember when I could not imagine my life without alcohol,  but I couldn’t imagine it with it anymore, either.

I thought I might lay down and die.

But I didn’t.

I learned from my mother the importance of standing up for people who can’t stand up for themselves. I learned from my Uncle Chunky the importance of planting your feet and saying, “I may be in this world, but I am not of this world — I am of God, and if I have to take it, I’ll take it, but you will never beat me.”  And with that attitude, you can take anything the world throws at you because you know your soul and you know your place.

And I have.

And from my brother,  I got the importance of being a smart-ass.

And I’m good at that.

And with God on my side, I truly have beaten everything that ever tried to beat me — or if I lost,  I went out fighting like hell.

When the world said:  “You can’t, you’re not tall enough, you won’t, you never could, you never will!”

I said,”F-ck you!” and then pretty much did.

So you can’t imagine the level of pathetic that you preach about yourself when you go to great lengths to bully somebody like me.

The Bubba who should worry more about his wife than my words, or the worshippers of slavery and segregation — I would truly have a hard time dealing with myself if I went to the levels that you go to to find out what I’m typing that day.

Also, I was getting ready to go through my friends list and delete people I should have deleted years ago, when I noticed one of the ones who participated in the copy and pasting and trashing me behind my back and possibly the reporting me to Facebook (the one I called a drunk, absent mother who should worry more about not having her kids and less about how I feel about Obama — the one who I had actually, sadly, always really liked) who I threatened to expose — and name — if she didn’t remove herself from my page and go away — had unfriended me.

It’s strange how these so called “tough talking” cowards love to trash me BEHIND MY BACK — but God, they fear being called out where everyone knows what they’re really like when they think only like-minded lowlifes are around.

She ran away quick after my first blast back.

Funny. All the trashing they did/do of me — strange they aren’t tougher than that.

It also took them less than five minutes to share this post. That’s a scary kind of obsession. Do you think these psycho stalker girls want to sleep with me or something?

It’s kind of scary the levels they go to to see what I’m doing.

God, I hope that freaky looking fat ass and his weird wife aren’t into cyber stalking people for sexual kicks.

That’d be weird.

Something is wrong when you wait around for the words of someone you don’t even know like that.

I’d also like to thank Joey Hillard — or Bobby, whatever he’s calling himself on Facebook this week (did you ever notice how these stalkers change their Facebook names a lot) — for participating in the trolling of my page, copying and pasting, reporting me to Facebook to get my account locked when I addressed their cowardly despicable actions, and cyber-stalking me over the last few years. How pathetic is your existence as a grown-ass, married man that you have to cyberstalk a little and single girl — repeatedly and so obsessively to the point I wondered if I shouldn’t contact the police.
( I read enough True Crime to know that those kind of psycho- obsessives are the kind that chop you up and dispose of you on the side of the highway on one of their long hauls.)

How pathetic. Really. I feel really sorry for your wife to be married to a man so consumed with another girl.

I guess there’s not enough in that big rig to keep you busy there, Bubba.

But God bless your little dumb and obviously in need of exercise, psychotic heart.

Hey, at least now they have a place to start if I get plowed over in a hit and run while I’m out for a run.

You know, at least I’ll give credit to the other cyberstalker — the only one of them I ever really liked —  least when I threatened to blast her shit (because I really like her kids and didn’t feel comfortable doing that), she deleted herself and went away — at least from trolling my page.


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