Way back a long time ago, in the dim prehistoric days of social broadcasting, I met a unique guy with the name of Roller. It was on Yahoo Live and for those of you who were on Yahoo Live… it was the Wild Wild West of the broadcasting world for a few glorious and insane months. Roller fit right in. He had a great sense of self-deprecating humor and was an early adopter of the webcam overlay packages that were available at the time. I was doing a show one night and he popped up on a guest cam, tinted RED as a fire engine, with animated flames coming up from the bottom of the frame and enormous horns superimposed on his forehead. He gleefully typed in chat “I’M IN HELL!, get it?”. He was never one to let his infirmity slow him down or get him down.

Roller loved what is euphemistically called “classic rock and roll” and loved to share his music with one and all. He fell into doing shows pretty quickly and made a lot of friends with equal speed. I never met a single person who didn’t like him once they got to know him, which leads me into a True Roller Story. He was doing a show one afternoon, and I sort of dragged a new-to-the-site female into his cast. She had never seen Roller before, and shortly after we entered his channel, she PM’d me and said “This guy looks weird.” I replied “He’s a quad, think nothing of it.” She replied “A quad? What’s a quad?” I realized I had not given her a detailed enough explanation, so I told her that “quad” was short for quadriplegic and explained briefly what had happened to him. To make a long story short, that woman never missed another of his ‘casts after that day. Once she spoke to him that first time, he worked that magical southern charm of his all over her and he had another friend for life.

When Yahoo Live bit the dust we all migrated to the various available webcasting sites and eventually washed up on the shores of BlogTV. There was an afternoon show on BlogTV hosted by a guy whose ID was justROBme2 (a nice guy, technologically challenged to be sure, but a nice guy) that was heavily attended. When Rob would sign off there would always be much discussion about who was going to go live next. Eventually, Roller took over the post-Rob time slot and an internet star was born. Roller’s sure-fire mix of mainstream rock and his easy manners coupled with a fairly friendly chat room began to attract more and more viewers.

As time went on, Roller began to trim his hours a bit and cut back on the number of shows. I assume there were probably some health issues driving this, but Roller was always 100% cheerful and “on” when he went live. No show was complete without cries of “Fix your shit!” and “UNMUTE, noob!” from the audience, tales of dropped sticks (if you were there, you know what I’m talking about), and a detailed description of what was for supper.

Sadly, Roller has passed away, and while his shows had become downright infrequent, I feel comfortable in saying that no one who saw him is ever going to forget him. He was a natural at entertaining his friends and it was a pleasure to kick back for a couple or three hours and just let Roller take over the controls. He was widely loved, respected and admired; he will be missed.

YellerTellerbeller is back and looking absolutely terrible. Cocoa Black actually called me and asked me to look in on the old woman. Cocoa was concerned that Yetta was puffy and misshapen and was perhaps nearing her end. While I did not disagree that Yetta is indeed looking more saggy as of late, I suspect she still has a few more miles left before her farting days are over.

Yetta was having a grand old time spewing her hatred toward the latest people that she has interacted with. Singled out for special attention: the human appearing scarecrow named McGuyver (loudly and repeatedly denounced for trying to “hijack” Yetta’s show), Boston Chickie (apparently for the crime of having McGuyver in her channel) and Capt. CRAPtastic (the latest person she is quite certain is an author on this blog). Yetta pronounced all of them to be pedestrian and unworthy of her attention… all while paying them attention. Consistency is not exactly Yetta’s salient characteristic.

Of note, there is a new Yettacentric channel on Ivlog. I do hereby swear and affirm I have exactly nothing to do with that channel, but I can also state that it is doing the Lord’s work and I wish them every success, right up until the time some asshat reports it to the comically inept management of Ivlog and they remove it.

Okay, this should be simple, and I think for most of you, it is. There are Certain Individuals that haunt social media sites and they do nothing but lie and incite. I suspect that you, dear reader, could easily tick off a short list of them without putting forth any effort. These Certain Individuals are harmless to those of us that know them for who and what they are, but the weak-minded (that’s harsh, but it’s fair) let these people get under their skins and all too often they take what is said to or about them to heart.

The latest episode of this drama du jour happened this morning in the Official Ivlog Transvestite channel. The laughably hideous “JackieLee” was babbling on in his usual mindless manner when a slap fight broke out between Michelle Stacy (a well known Certain Individual) and JessicaLuvsJesus (the weak-minded). The mentally ill LikLik (yet another Certain Individual) sensed a disturbance within the asylum and immediately rushed to join the affray, adding his own peculiar brand of inflammatory disinformation wherever he felt it would do the most harm. It’s what he does. In the meantime, JackieLee did what he does best: absolutely nothing.

As far as a fight, the outcome was never in doubt. Michelle Stacy and LikLik are devoid of anything we might term a conscience, and JessicaLuvsJesus is basically unarmed in any battle of wits. The Certain Individuals fired off their usual spread of lies, the weak-minded took it very seriously, burst into tears and rage quit. JessicaLuvsJesus retreated to one of her alt accounts, wept copiously and finally summoned an Ivlog site moderator to nail “mean” guests with IP bans.

Various denizens of Ivlog popped in and out of JessicaLuvsJesus’ channel to commiserate or remonstrate as their natures dictated. Among these folks was Boston Chickie (someone I have “known” since she first appeared in the dim and misty past of social broadcasting) who wisely observed that with the passage of a few days this would all blow over. It did sadden me to see that Michelle Stacy was later sighted in Boston Chickie’s channel as her super-op. Boston, dear lady, if you lay down with dogs you will surely get up with fleas.

This all leads into a discussion on the subject of “transitive friendships” and the ultimately destructive nature of relationships to people who give credence to that philosophy. The friend of your friend DOES NOT HAVE TO BE my friend. It is entirely possible and eminently legitimate that you may have a friend that I despise and you and I can remain friends. If you would be so kind, please ask yourself some simple questions: when you were growing up, how many of your friends were disapproved of by your parents? Did you despise your parents because they disliked one of your friends? Do you feel your parents were wrong, given the time that has since elapsed? Do you now comprehend their point of view?

I worry for Boston Chickie and her seeming friendship with someone that I know is a viper, but I am not going to cease contact with BC over the issue. I suspect BC will, in her own good time come to see what, in my opinion, is self-evident, but as a wise man once said, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him think. Er…., drink.

I meant to post this yesterday and I got sidetracked by a stubborn PCIe SATA controller card that wished to have its way with me. This afternoon, after a fearsome struggle in which much blood was shed, I prevailed.

ONE YEAR AGO, Mommy Vaughn announced that she was dying.

It grieves me to report that I have nothing further to report. I shall endeavor to maintain a sense of optimism and hope for the worst. For her.

Cocoa has told me to get off my dead posterior and do something I mentioned in passing once upon a time: Cookie Bingo.

The rules are simple and the card below is but an example. Write down 24 of her annoying words or phrases (which should not be too difficult, because that woman is the living embodiment of annoying) and play Cookie Bingo with your friends. Fun for anyone who has ever been on JTV, blogTV, YawnLive or Ivlog.

Note: Her OCD forces her to say some of her words/phrases over and over. Sorry, you only get to use it once, because she IS crazy and you aren’t.

Cookie has decided that she has discovered the secret identity of this writer. She has come to the inescapable and ineluctable conclusion that I am…

Tripcode. After announcing this, she then loudly proclaimed (in triplicate, as is her wont) that I would deny that I am Tripcode. Toots, I could give exactly zero flying fucks at a rolling doughnut who you think I am. If you need to think I am Tripcode, the Wizard of Oz, the Grand Wazoo or Father Duffy, then that is who I am.

With the help of her current sidekick, Ian985 (more about Ian shortly), they then deduced that Cocoa was someone named Jinx. After a bit more brainstorming, they came to the positive conclusion that HandsomeMork and Cocoa Black are both Tripcode. By now, you must be thinking the same thing that I am… Tripcode is a VERY busy boy.

As H.L. Mencken said, “For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.”

Ian985 is a rather interesting character. He agrees with every single bit of nonsense that drops out of Cookie’s ever flapping pie hole. He agrees just a little too much, too eagerly, too avidly. I’m gonna go ahead right now, in writing, and call him out as a catfish. No one agrees with anyone as much as Ian agrees with Cookie, and when something is too good to be true, it’s just too damn good to be true. Shitlips, you are fixin’ to get burned once again and I for one am going to revel in every minute of it.

Deeply into her senescence, Yetta’s show has become a festival celebrating her own peculiar brand of egocentrism. I have encountered some self-centered assholes in my sixty plus years on this planet the kids call “erf”, but this old bat is walking off with the cake. With an ego that large, it is simply impossible for a knave such as myself to resist the impulse to stick the occasional pin in the enormous balloon of her self-esteem. Sometimes it rattles her cage just a bit, as witnessed by the screen capture below:

She did in fact notice her error, as a clear expression of irritation passed across her face, but in true Lipshitzian fashion, she plowed on for the next 25 minutes telling me just how very much I sucked. Then it was back to the “All Lizzy, All The Time” diatribe she has been locked into since the beginning of 2019. I must bow to Lizzy, as she is UNDER the skin of Kookie in a truly impressive fashion. Troll Level: Master.

This time of year can be difficult for some people. For example, the bag lady of Ivlog is having an exceedingly rough time of it right now. Still pining for her young and star-crossed time-traveling paramour, we observe that Ruth Telebooth Yetta Telebenda is showing not only her sizeable bald spot (which, it appears she has been able to successfully lease as a helipad), but also a good inch or so of not-so-fashionable gray rootage.

I truly feel sorry for the poor hair dresser that will have to endure the hour or so of inane and befuddled Lipshitsian ramblings as Marjorie sees to her thinning coiffure in an attempt to hang on to the dimming memories of those bygone times when she was young and dinosaurs walked the earth.

Is this Sara62’s mom? Yes, I know she doesn’t spell it that way and I don’t care.

While browsing Ivlog.tv I found a new broadcaster, blackdick021.  His room was just that, a black dick.  He was live for 24 minutes.  I am impressed that he could stroke it for 24 minutes.

In an event that we all saw coming, Yetta’s unrequited lesbian love for Lizzy is no more.

Yetta is a harsh mistress, and apparently Lizzy’s behavior failed to pass muster, leading Yetta to label Lizzy a “sleaze”. Yetta spent a rough 24 hours defending her judgemental behavior, alternately declaiming that she had not in fact called Lizzy a “sleaze” per se, but had labeled Lizzy’s behavior (repeat the word “behavior” three times then write it in chat) “sleazy” and then stating that it really didn’t matter if she had called Lizzy a sleaze or not, as the truth must be told, and Yetta – being a direct descendant of Moses (just ask her) – is the preeminent giver of the law and truth.

So now we come to Yetta, sitting in her channel, chat set to “ops only”, insulting her listeners as “uneducated”, “willfully ignorant”, “fools”, “lacking in understanding” and so on. Yetta has lots of experience in failed relationships, and all of those failures have one common element. That element is Marjorie Levine. Lack of understanding indeed, Yetta.

Per Yetta, Lizzy will not respond to any PMs and so Yetta had no choice other than to ban Lizzy from her channel. This information comes directly from Yetta, so look for the story to change by noon tomorrow. It always does.

Last night I didn’t feel well.  I think I might have had a touch of food poisoning or maybe it was my nausea from Vaughnmas.

Last night I felt terrible!  I was on the verge of throwing up and other things.  At one point in time my stomach made a noise that scared the furry beasts I have in the house and made me wonder if I needed to go to the hospital.  I had actually forgotten about the Vaughmas, it’s just not calendar worthy.

I decided to scroll through the Ivlog before I went to bed and stumbled into Bubbaganoosh’s room.  He was watching the Vaughnmas while casting.  I must say after hearing some of Vaughnmas over his computer this was the best way to watch the load of fecal matter that was the Vaughnlive holiday program.

Bubbaganoosh made it tolerable.  Although I did throw up a few times and had a headache, I’m not sure if it was the vaughnmess or the food poisoning.

Also, I didn’t come up with Yawnmas or vaughnmess, those were some clever terms used to describe the waste of time that I will never get back. Merry Christmas.

What the fuck is Vaughnmas?  Which one of the vaughns, the owners of vaughnlive.tv, thinks they are comparable to Christ?  Are they smoking the weed?

If you are one of the fools who have still bought into the vaughns I guess you can participate in their second annual ‘vaughnmas’.  I can’t imagine who is still casting on the site to actually send in a small video they can play on this vaughmas cast.  

Of course I will be there to report my findings.  I would rather have a tooth extracted and a colonoscopy at the same time but Handsome Mork is very demanding.

For some reason, It seems that Under Teleblunder likes to “fart into pleather”. I had to look up “pleather”, which seems to be the 21st century version of what us old folks used to call Naughahyde.

Now naughahyde was damned mysterious in and of itself back in the day. I have hunted many species of critter on the North American continent, but I had never heard of a Naugha; I assumed that it must have a splendid hide, so it was probably a domesticated animal, being raised on vast Naugha ranches, probably located in exotic locations, such as Wyoming or maybe the New Jersey Pine Barrens.

Some internet research reveals that “pleather” is a chemical product made from polyvinyl chloride. Yes, it is made from exactly the same stuff that all those white, gray, blue, green, black, etc. plumbing pipes are made from. And that was when the light came on: no wonder she farts into it, it’s her toilet drain pipe.

In other news, Cookie’s COTU has hit new heights, as she stormed out of Lizzy’s show because Lizzy wouldn’t cut guest chat off. Cookie has now announced (and channeled Miss Scruffy exceedingly well in the process) that she will no longer enter any channel that has guest chat on. The Grand Dame of Social Media stated that no rational broadcaster would ever consider doing a show with guest chat on. She seemed quite put out that just anyone could add to the conversation. She added that every guest was up to no good and they should just be banned. Of course, she was telling this to all the guests sitting in her channel watching her melt down.

But she is NOT mad.

Utter Telebutter has gotten big mad at me. I am talking full on screaming, howling, raving, barking at the moon mad. You see friends and neighbors, I am, in her own words, “less than an insect”, however I am also “very dangerous”. So dangerous that Fetta will now be leaving her tenement housing project via the garage. She has alerted the NYPD Internet Troll squad, the Federal IP Enforcement Unit, The Royal Canadian Mounted Packet Inspector Division and The Brooklyn Boy Scouts (can we still call them Boy Scouts?) of my presence on her channel and… boy do I feel sorry for whoever has to deal with her.

She has sworn a mighty oath, sealed by the Covenant of Moses (who she does in fact claim as an ancestor) that she will never again read a single word of this here useless blog, as it is beneath her notice, contempt, excrement, finger nail clippings, stained underwear… you name it.

I wish her well, but I fear that she will be unable to hold fast to her word. Below is a screen cap of November’s server logs – which is (at the moment of this writing) a bit less than 29 hours old.

So good luck Yoda Telekubota. I will do what I can to help you avoid my miserable website which your immense, bloated ego has no further desire to see.

I must say I was a bit disappointed when she stated she bought a new toy and this was it.

I’ve been out of town, actually I’ve been stuck in a Guatemalan prison for reasons I can’t say at the moment. (When the press obtains the story I will give my story to Handsome Mork first then sell it to the press for one million dollars and attorney’s fees.)

I arrive back to Handsome Mork telling me that Cookie Lipshitz has actually found this blog. I couldn’t believe it, the blog has arrived (not really)! I checked out Cookie’s social media broadcast on Ivlog.tv tonight to hear her ramble on about bike lanes in New York City and thought of her in a police hat (it made me giggle), and then it happened. She mentioned the blog! Cookie, please, say the name of the blog, come on. If you are going to mention this blog, say the name of it. I would hate for others to think of a different blog, and they are out there aren’t they?

During my absence Handsome Mork wrote a post about revolver maps, which seems to be a widget to show where your IP address is physically located. Please see Handsome Mork’s post about revolver maps for all the details. It seems Cookie had revolver maps on her Ivlog page but due to a site policy change, no one on Ivlog is allowed to use IP trackers anymore. In the absence of said widget she bought herself a mini globe to tell her where all her viewers were viewing from. She also asked to have her photo taken so she can be on the blog. Ask and ye shall receive Cookie.

We’ve all heard fish stories. Someone went fishing and caught a fish, and that fish increases in size each time the fisherman (fisher-person?) tells the story about the catch.

Kookie Shitlips, resident crazy person of Ivlog, is spinning her fish story even as I type this post. This afternoon, Kookie stated that she had approached an art gallery with an idea. She talked about taking screen caps of some comments concerning her, “scribbling” on them, thereby transforming these posts into art and having a one woman exhibition of … whatever. Art, it ain’t. She said the mythological dealer of art was interested in this idea and after a pregnant pause, Shitlips added she was going to be paid. More about “being paid” later in this post.

That keen legal maven, Candy Rayne, playing her role of enabler of the demented, advised Kookie that by virtue of scribbling on these screen shots, they would then become Kookie’s intellectual property. Kookie cackled about wanting to be sued by the authors of the scribbled upon posts (sued for precisely what, she did not say) as that would require said plaintiffs to identify themselves in the forthcoming fantasy legal proceedings. In other words, a typical Kookie fantasy wherein she conjures up amazing plots so she can be the heroine and vanquish all who stand before her.

This evening, the story, much like that fish, had grown considerably. By 11pm, the story was that an art gallery had approached her with this idea. Now that makes NO effing sense at all for at least two very good reasons. First, exactly how would this phantasmagorical art dealer know anything about Shitlip’s experiences on the internet, and secondly, why in the name of Blue Jesus would he then advise the Bag Lady of Ivlog to “scribble” on screen shots of which he has no knowledge?

As the witching hour approached, one art dealer became TWO art dealers. Yes, apparently the Art World of New York City is beating a path to the rent-controlled walk-up that is the abode of Kookie, and they come waving money. I said I would get back around to “being paid”. Art galleries work on consignment sales, Kookster. NO ONE IS GOING TO PAY YOU A DIME FOR A COPY OF A SCREEN CAPTURE THAT YOU HAVE DRAWN SOME LINES ON. Sadly, I have actually seen some of her “art work” and… well, it’s easier to show it than attempt to describe it. It is about at the level of a child with their very first box of crayons.

On the one hand, it is entertaining watching her lunacy from a front row seat, on the other hand, it is kinda sad watching her lunacy from a front row seat.

Sure, it isn’t a movie, but it does make me cry.

Laughing until you cry counts, right?

It is apparent that someone has pointed out this fabulous blog to the vile and execrable Kookie Shitlips. Of course, Kookie is “disturbed“, so it is in her nature to point out a couple of posts we have made concerning her. She typed in the urls of two posts (her catfish experience with the mysterious Tripcode and a post concerning her usage of RevolverMaps) into the scrolling chat description window above the chat area. One aspect of her scrolling message does puzzle me mightily. Who the fuck is Voltaire?

Now I am going to go well out on a limb here and make an assumption. I am ASSUMING that Cookie is not referring to the historical personage known as “Voltaire” (real name: François-Marie Arouet), but is instead referring to some chat room wag who uses Voltaire as a user ID. This is not a safe assumption on my part. Given this antediluvian harridan’s grandiose delusions, she may actually believe that Voltaire is alive, well, and writing about her.

In any event, “Voltaire” is not a name that myself or Cocoa has ever used on any social broadcasting site. PremiumHogwash is now and has always been authored by myself and the esteemed Cocoa Black, and neither of us are fans of the cheese eating surrender monkeys. Any attempt by Kookie to credit this blog to Voltaire is purely the result of an Elavil induced psychosis.

A picture is worth 1000 words, so I’ll let this screen cap taken at 5AM (10AM Cr3am time, in other words mid-morning) speak for itself.