Dagstine attacks.
You will find that I bumped up my post “Let the truth shine in” because Dagstine posted a comment to it. He posted there in an attempt to be sneaky.
He has left me a long string of attacks on the “Suing Critics” post
You will find that I bumped up my post “Let the truth shine in” because Dagstine posted a comment to it. He posted there in an attempt to be sneaky.
He has left me a long string of attacks on the “Suing Critics” post
Cussedness Corner 
I was wondering when he would come back from his butthurt.
Daggy is full of crap. He has no file on you, Cuss. He has no case. As typical of his history, this is just his way of trying to take control of the situation so he can feel good about himself.
No felony was commited.
However, threats, going to people’s houses to stalk them…well, that is another issue, hey Daggy boy?
Well, at least he gave us an initial to work with.
I’m going to do a search on all science fiction writers with the initials CR.
Actually you’d know better than me, Johaha, you’re the one with the personal vendetta.
Know what? What are you talking about?
I have no vendetta, just a morbid fascination with watching you squirm.
I’ll find out who CR is.
And I’ll bring him or her here to you? How’s that? Happy now?
But I thought you were Harry Harrison? That’s what Janrae told me?
That’s not what she said, dickhead.
Reading comprehension not your strong point.
Now, let me get back to my search for CR. It may take a while. But I’ll get this person. And then we’ll see what this shit is all about.
Well, I hope this makes you squirm some more: three books, a fuck-ton of magazine and webzine credits over the next year you DON’T know about, four pen names, two editors, freelance projects on the side, and money you yourself will not make as a writer… because we all know deep down that’s what you want to be.
The proof is in Range’s blog. Go back there. I think you missed one integral entry after you backlashed. That was no ordinary man’s blog, and in the end, that turned out to be no ordinary research article; my bad for not posting it.
Dagstine, the man is very ordinary. He teaches english as a second language and he is getting a fresh degree in mathematics.
How is he not an ordinary man?
Furthermore, his blog’s google rating is a 2.
Mine is a 4.
Tell me, who is more important?
Ah, so I’m a dickhead… so we’ve resorted to petty name-calling again, huh?
Sad.
You don’t get it.
I am not impressed with your NON-PROFESSIONAL credits in amateur magz. THEY MEAN NOTHING. You might as well be writing for your own turd.
Freelance projects my ass. Money? I don’t have a mortgage on my house. I just paid it off. How about you?
I don’t want to be a writer.
I writer is any fool.
An author is a professional.
Deal with that. Buttwipe.
And your references to me as “special olympics” was not petty name calling?
Janrae, I already know he teached English as a second language… I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the kind of man who has traveled continents for fie years at a time, only to fail in his own endeavors. As for being a teacher, one can only wonder what he does to his students.
Mind you, I don’t know what a blog rating scale is… only someone addicted to blogging more than a few times per week would know what that is.
You’re a big brave man, Daggy… when you’re dealing with a crippled woman.
She’s talking about Range, you moron. Not me. Range is the English teacher.
You fuckwit.
Who failed? Range?
You’re getting confused.
Actually, to set the record straight, I told Janrae about Google’s PageRank system. Seeing as how she pays me to design her websites and keep an eye on how much traffic is coming in, I thought I’d best tell her. It’s one of the more basic measurements of incoming links and popularity. Knowledge of it isn’t confined to obsessives. Hell, it’s displayed on Google’s toolbar, an increasingly popular browser extension.
If obsessiveness were the main criterion for knowing about it, Daggy, I wouldn’t have to tell you any of this. You’d have told us.
First off, Janrae, Special Olympics was twisted by John when he made that one-legged comment. I meant it in the grammar department, not the Polio department.
“You don’t get it.
I am not impressed with your NON-PROFESSIONAL credits in amateur magz. THEY MEAN NOTHING. You might as well be writing for your own turd.”
Really, then why bother following me for four years and saying bad things about me across the web? Wouldn’t that put you in association with that very turd? Why email editors lies — I only lost small credits, so it was nothing off my skin (they’re a dime a dozen for me), but at the same time you pissed off a lot of other editors.
“Freelance projects my ass. Money? I don’t have a mortgage on my house. I just paid it off. How about you?”
Me? I live in a beautiful two-bedroom, and I’m middle class. I get to have a family that loves me. Who loves you?
“I don’t want to be a writer.
I writer is any fool.”
I couldn’t understand this. Please rephrase.
“An author is a professional.
Deal with that. Buttwipe.”
So then YOU DO want to be an author. Now you finally admit it.
Hey, Kettle? You there? This is Pot. You know, there’s something about your complexion that’s a matter of some concern for me…
‘So then YOU DO want to be an author. Now you finally admit it.’
Admit what?
I did not admit anything. I said an author is a professional. That is fact. Don’t read into things that are not there.
And stop insisting that I’ve been following you around for years. I’m gonna find out who this CR is and ask him/her about your fascination with him/her. How’s that?
And I am not interested in pissing off editors of amateur magz.
Oh, so you want to compare lifestyles? I am upper middle class. A large four bedroom with a massive backyard, with half a million in the bank on investments made before the markets crashed. Yeah, I know how to play the market…
I don’t have to say bad things about you. I simply point out goings on.
You make your name bad all by yourself.
Oh, I said don’t read into anything because you said that I want to be a professional author.
No, I don’t want to be a professional author.
I am.
Reading comprehension gets you every time, hey junior?
Dear Daggy, precious widdle boi, the screenshots of you saying “special Olympics” are up at Rusty. You spoke first , not John, and you have been belittling my disability across the net.
Just as you did my prior drug use.
Oh, Larry…
I do recall a certain butthurt statement, bemoaning the fact that I post without using my “real name.”
Pretty hilarious coming from a twit that changed his own name so as not to be lumped together with sterotypes of his ancestry.
I saw a “falling star” the other night, Larry. Would you like to know what I wished for? I wished that that “cancer” you claim is not only REAL, but is crawling into your tiny brain. I wished for a huge, inoperable tumor to invade your cranium, and extend its malignant arms to, literally, hug your gray matter.
After all, it would only be fitting for a parasite to be consumed by another parasite.
Every time you try to attack Janrae, I will show up. As usual, I will hand you your ass on a silver platter. A wise man would just drop the attacks on her and move along in life. But then again, no one has ever accused you of being WISE.
Three books. Yeah, three self-published books (xlibris, airleaf).
Geez, I’m so impressed.
For the record, a publisher will pay you. You’re not supposed to pay a dime.
Damn straight, Johaha.
Cussedness: Will the screenshots get me a cookie, or a ride on the subway. Oh goody, when does Rusty show up!
Johaha: I am spitting up coffee right now! Time to call you on your bullshit!
‘So then YOU DO want to be an author. Now you finally admit it.’ Admit what?
“I did not admit anything. I said an author is a professional. That is fact. Don’t read into things that are not there. ”
And yes, that has already been clarified, so why are you reading into it?
“And stop insisting that I’ve been following you around for years. I’m gonna find out who this CR is and ask him/her about your fascination with him/her. How’s that? And I am not interested in pissing off editors of amateur magz.”
Are you sure about that? I have a couple of emails that say different… After all, you’re not “In the Vein” of emailing editors, yet you still do it.
“Oh, so you want to compare lifestyles? I am upper middle class. A large four bedroom with a massive backyard, with half a million in the bank on investments made before the markets crashed. Yeah, I know how to play the market…”
Dude, you are a nobody in dirty clothes in a basement, on a computer. You play Warcraft and wear big glasses. So you’re filthy rich and into the Dow Jones, eh? With a big place and property? If you really had these things — knock, knock, who’s there; my imagination — and if you were rich or well to do, and involved in the Stock Market, you would DEFINITELY not be on this computer worrying about where my next 25 dollar writing check is coming from. You’d be out getting laid by hot fucking girls with big titties, dancing and drinking the night away and socializing and yeah, profiling. But you aint. Because you haven’t lived life to the fullest. I have.
“I don’t have to say bad things about you. I simply point out goings on. You make your name bad all by yourself.”
If that was true, you wouldn’t be here. Right?
“Oh, I said don’t read into anything because you said that I want to be a professional author. No, I don’t want to be a professional author. I am.”
So then I was right! You are an author… You just admitted it, but then how can you be an author when you work with the Stock Market and own a four-bedroom basement (er, house)
“Reading comprehension gets you every time, hey junior?”
You sure about that? 🙂
I think the butthurt got him again.
He’s off to think about things with the last two braincells left in his head.
Smell something burning?
Dagstine, I would suggest you read my essay “The Egoless Writer” but I know you’ll ignore it.
You have no professional writing credits. We’ve established that. You’re all talk and no walk. You’re a coward and a bully. Nothing more.
saw a “falling star” the other night, Larry. Would you like to know what I wished for? I wished that that “cancer” you claim is not only REAL, but is crawling into your tiny brain. I wished for a huge, inoperable tumor to invade your cranium, and extend its malignant arms to, literally, hug your gray matter.
After all, it would only be fitting for a parasite to be consumed by another parasite.
Scooby Snacks 🙂
“I live in a beautiful two-bedroom, and I’m middle class. I get to have a family that loves me. Who loves you?”
Meeee!
Oh baby. You are so way off.
So, every rich guy wants to get laid by big breasted women. You are an idiot.
The big house is for real. Trust me. Cuss has seen it.
Too bad your apartment in Melville is financed by your parents and the government.
I ain’t worrying about you. Like I said, I like to see you squirm.
And I agree with Devil’s Child.
Like I said , I admit nothing. You said I wanted to be a professional author.
How can I admit to wanting to be something I already am?
Reading comprehension. *tsk*
That was sure funny, daggy old boy. Your response was true amateur high schoolish wannabe.
Thanks for the lulz.
I love you too, Tragic.
No, you ADMITTED to it Johaha. Don’t try and change the subject because you got YOUR ass, of all people, handed to you on a platter.
No, I did not.
You failed reading comprehension.
Accept it, bitch.
The big house is for real… Cuss has seen it? Can I see a picture?
There is no subject to change.
It’s about the CONTEXT of the message.
You missed it.
You loose.
Butthurt.
“No, I did not.
You failed reading comprehension.
Accept it, bitch.”
I’m telling your mother.
Oh wait, she lives in the house with you that Cuss saw, right?
Dagstine just go back to lieking mudkips with your penis.
There is no subject to change.
It’s about the CONTEXT of the message.
You missed it.
You loose.
Butthurt.
I loose….As in Footloose?
Hurt Butt? What?
Dagstine, you are once more taking things out of context and playing a semantic game called doublespeak.
Furthermore, as most psychologists would put it you are playing a game called “uproar” which is symptomatic of an emotionally dysfunctional person.
Might I suggest that you are living in a co-dependent relationship with you gf as your enabler.
Can I see a picture of a guy boasting about a self-published book?
Oh, I already have on illout.
Don’t worry, it was saved before it was deleted.
O Dags, you’ve all the wit of a playground bully. If you start throwing rocks, though, I’m going to tell the teacher on you.
My mother lives 7000 miles away.
But hey, feel free to bring her into the conversation.
Just don’t expect a response.
God, Daggy soooooo scares me.
I think I’m going to cry when his latest story hits yet another amateur mag. Better yet, I think I’ll die when his collection comes out from an amateur publisher with no clout in the business.
Be still my beating heart. Can I take the strain?
This is amusing. Larry actually thinks he’s capable of handing someone their ass.
He’s too busy talking out of his.
Well, the poor woman is hardly staying with him for his personality, is she?
One day on Halloween, I decided to fuck with the major retard at school when I came out of science for break. Heis name was Larenzo, Lori for short, but he always dressed as Ash. Knowing this was going to happen, I brought a Mudkips doll. Thus I started the conversation, making sure no one saw me.
Me: “So I heard you like Mudkips…”
Lorenzo aka Lori “Mudkips? I LUUUUUUUUUUUURVE MUDKIPS.”
Me: “Well uh would you fuck a Mudki-”
Lorenzo aka Lori: “OF COURSE.
Me: ” happen to have a Mudkips here, and.”
Before I finished the sentence, which would have resulted in me hitting him across the face with the doll, Lori grabbed it. In one swift motion his pants were down and he was violently humping it. Not to get between a man and his Mudkips, I started to walk away, because there is no way I’d be caught wrestling a half-naked crazy guy humping a Mudkips.
Needles to say, within 5 to 10 seconds, some girls saw him and started screaming. I cooly walked into a restroom, pretending nothing had ever happened; not that I had intended that outcome, but now that it was in play I didn’t want to be involved.
I came back two minutes later, and like any wanton act on school grounds there was now a huge crowd round him. Lori was still fucking it and baying this real fucked up ‘EEEEEEEEEEINNNNF EEEEEEEEEEINNNF’ sound. Suddenly a scuffle broke out in the middle, meaning he probably did something stupid. I asked someone what had happened. A girlfriend of one of the football players tried to get him to stop, but he bit her for trying to take it away. Someone called in a few football players (all dressed up like Road Warrior) who proceeded to pummel the shit out of the guy. Meanwhile the school police were freaking out and having trouble getting in to the situation.
A few minutes later the intruder alarm went off and we were shuffled into classrooms. Over the intercom the principal announced that someone had thrown a flaming plush toy into the library. Uh.. what the hell.
So we were kept there and about 30 minutes later the principal came on again. This time he was saying that whoever was behind the beating should turn themselves in. All of a sudden this woman began yelling “I WILL SUE YOU FOR DAMAGES. YOU LITTLE PUNKS, I’M GONNA SUE…” and it was cut off.
I asked an office later what had happened. Apparently his mother had come to pick him up and threatened to sue for the beating and ‘whatever else happened.’ The school threatened to counter-sue because of lewd conduct, inciting a riot, and starting a fight.
So I ask you: do you like Mudkips?
I think the butthurt got him AGAIN.
He’s off to think about things with the very last braincell left in his head.
If it’ll help, I can come in here and brag about my SIXTEEN self-published books! Nyah-nyah I win!
Sadly. But hey. It’s what I got.
Jeez what a twerp. Making compulsive liar evil masterminds look bad.
or to liek mudkips. Lieking mdkips is his only solice.
Poor Mudkips could do so much better.
Hmmm…
Apparently, in the world of Larry, “Scooby Snacks” is an appropriate response to my comment.
No wonder the nitwit can’t write his way out of a wet paper sack…
And this cretin is supposed to be given an award?
Okay. Here it is: I am now handing Larry the coveted “DUMBASS KING OF NITWITTERY” award.
It was by a unanimous vote.
I’m waiting for him to come to Suffolk County Long Island and stalk me.
(Naw, I ain’t really worried about him, since he don’t know me, he can’t find my house. And he’d need a car. Or money for a train. Oh, better sell another story for £25 bucks)
To make a long story short… You’re a funny little man, Johaha (and your kiddie squad), who failed miserably on Janrae’s blog, just as you did on Range’s (have you gone back there yet to see the correct entry).
Simply said, I don’t need to prove myself to you or anybody. Genre writing is secondary to me (not even). Yet you’ll all never be me; and that cuts some of you deep down like a knife. It’s the pleasure that comes first. Seriously, in the end, it’s the biggest bullshit side-gig there is. You’ll never meet a bigger bunch of unsocial degenerates otherwise. Oops! I just did.
Life is short, and none of you are going to be Stephen King either. Writing is not the big picture, it all does not matter. Money and elitism aside, I see a man with a single webzine credit just as successful as the mainstream writer, which none of you will ever be (you’re getting old folks, and the clock is ticking). Because sometimes the mainstreamer is missing something integral from his or her life. So what does all that success amount to in the end? Anybody here, and most, will die in obscurity.
So have fun wasting away in your four bedroom basement (er, house) and property, and I guess I’ll see you withering around in FAIL and contempt for the next four years.
Scooby Doo-Ya,
Lawrence
Dagstine, I will not be inviting you to any SFWA parties.
And if you try to crash them when I am there, I suggest that you re-think it.
“Because sometimes the mainstreamer is missing something integral from his or her life. So what does all that success amount to in the end? Anybody here, and most, will die in obscurity.”
Really? Professional authors don’t die in obscurity. Ever hear of anthologizing? Once a professional, your stories are always picked up for professional anthologies for decades to come.
Even a professional author who only ever published two or even a handful of stories will always get their work professionally anthologized. (Yeah, and that means yet another $800 check every time).
Obscurity is for writers. That’s you.
Posterity is for authors. Not you.
Say hello to oblivion, Lorenzo.
Wow, that sounds like a lot of “Wah!” to me. Allow me to recite Rule #1 of the Egoless Writer:
“Remember, it’s not about you.”
It’s always about Lorenzo. Didn’t you know?
you still have yet to address your affinity for mudkips. look what you forced the poor little guy to do to you. its horrible.
I had these good people aid me in showing the world some of the naughty things you do.
http://www.janraefrank.com/spec/dagstino_lieks_mudkipz.JPG
“Dagstine, I will not be inviting you to any SFWA parties.
And if you try to crash them when I am there, I suggest that you re-think it.”
Don’t worry, Cuss. If he shows up, he’ll do what most pussy bullies do when confronted. Skulk away and try an avoid you.
Aw, is he gone?
And I was having so much fun.
Poor Lolo’s sad because we’ve seen a glimpse of his pretty rack. 😦
“Genre writing is secondary to me (not even).”
Ah, so admit to not having that passion to tell a story — well it shows in your prose.
“Yet you’ll all never be me; ”
And for that, I get on my knees every night and give thanks to the Lord God.
“Seriously, in the end, it’s the biggest bullshit side-gig there is.”
And thus you admit to your utter lack of professionalism.
“You’ll never meet a bigger bunch of unsocial degenerates otherwise.”
Nice sweeping generalization to ostracize yourself from the community. If ever had ambition to move up from the Legion of Nitwits, you would find that many of us have advanced social skills, hygenie, and are all together amicable.
I’d rather reach for the platinum ring and fail, only to snag the silver, then to be content with the brass.
And now his admission that he is not serious about writing is here for all to see. And he can’t delete it.
It is also typical Daggy style: When you rub it in that you are a professional–or when you call him on any issue–he slinks away muttering, ‘I’m only fooling around. I’m not serious about writing.’
And then he goes around insinuating law suits, as he did today at Range’s blog about internet psychosis.
So you are going to sue us for you loosing sales?
Go for it.
And yet when you pass on, I have no doubt that you won’t even have the dubious dignity of doing so in a puddle of your own urine.
He is right when he says he doesn’t need to prove anything to us. WE already know his writing is subpar, his actions pathological, and his attitude reprehensible. He’s a liar, a stalker and a criminal in all he says and does.
And his rebuff of the horror genre (or any genre) is due to the fact he can’t write anything worth reading, let alone getting published. He knows that and is trying to minimize his losses.
It’s a sad state of affairs on Planet Lorenzo these days.
It is not against the law in the US to have an opinion. that’s called free speech.
It is against the law to say the things about me that Dagstine has been saying.
I don’t hit below the belt, although I do sometimes speculate. However, I make those speculations very clear as what they are. Guesses.
I don’t get the constant referrals to Range’s blog. Leave the poor man alone. So you went back and cried on it again. Think he’s had enough of that on there thanks.
(noticed the actuall addressing of Range, like a child pleading to an adult).
Well, seems this smackdown has been thoroughly delivered. I’ll mosey on out of here. Evening, folks. *tips hat*
Hey Dagstine. Why did Shroud Magazine and Horror World both drop you?
Wow. Even though we make fun of him for being like Nicky and showing up whenever he has some sort of deal going through to brag about, he still does it! XD
Remember what you said to Janrae and them a while ago Lawrence, about how you limit your messageboard and blog usage every month?
I believe you. You can’t help but be a total douchebag when you speak and damn near everytime you post something somewhere it makes you look worse. From making fun of youth suicide to the Special Olympics, threats and admittance of stalking, or when you aren’t even in an angry mood you just follow Philbin around and post where he does making you look that much more like an ass kisser.
I think you’ve used up your posting time this month. Rep ruined again. Time to go back to thinking up some new attention getting to make Shocklines folks feel sorry for you…
Wowwwwww, I come here expecting a fight and all I see is one badly flayed little goblin screaming “I know you are but what am I?” over…
and over…
and over.
I was expecting a bloodbath. I’m disappointed.
Also, daggy the doggy is full of FAIL and AIDS. he is the CANCER killing self publishing and the horror genre. he needs to go back to forcing mudkipz to touch his ass.
I knew I shouldn’t have taken Mudkip to KFC…
My heart goes out to little guy, who has resorted to gay porn for his Pokedollars. 😥
I am already Steve King.
Writing is everything. A shame you don’t have talent or you could let your talent do the talking for you.
Daggy’s only talent, if you could call it that, is talking out his ass.
Johnny Carson’s (remember him?) talent scout is out in the field searching when he comes across a carny act – a man who can sing out of his butt.
He can’t believe it, so he watches the act. Holy Heck, the guy really CAN sing out of his butt – show tunes, torchsongs, even opera!
The scout calls Johnny and Ed, tells them what he’s found. Everyone agrees they’ve just GOT to have the guy on the show.
A few weeks later and Johnny is announcing his next guest – a man who can sing out of his butt. Doc leads the orchestra into an intro, the curtains part and there the guy stands.
He turns away from the audience, unbuckles his belt, drops his pants and –
shits all over the stage.
Panic at the network. The curtain comes down. The ‘Technical Difficulties’ screen goes up. Ushers try to quell the panic in the audience (especially the front row seats).
Johnny goes running over to the guy, absolutely apoplectic. “What the hell were you thinking?? We were live to 60 million people! Why in god’s name did you do that?”
The singer says “Singer’s clear their throats, don’t they?”