THE LAST TIME I SAW HIM PARKS HE DROPPED BY HERE UNANNOUNCED WANTING ME TO STOP WHAT I WAS DOING AND TALK TO HIM. I WAS BUSY FEELING ALL MANNER OF DEPRESSED, GRAY, AND TERRIBLE FEELINGS OF DOOM.
My son died on December 10th, around ten or so in the morning, the exact time Jaba The Journalist showed up at my door.
IDIOT Parks didn’t listen to me tell him that. Just wanted to rattle his mouth as usual and have someone, ANYONE listen to him go on and on and on.
I didn’t want to.
Why should I have to on my own turf. Trailer house or whatever, it doesn’t mean that I’m ready for a mean, unpleasant, ready to get pissed off at any moment, talking constantly, bore.
I am a mother. I have actual feelings for my son who has been a great problem most all his life. I am a mother first.
I am not, repeat, not, in the mood for some old fat man to prattle on and on uninvited. I had just moved here from being assaulted by a meth head and his girlfriend in Hutto and I am on Klonopin for the panic attacks. So Jim’s going to take the opportunity to tell you I was on drugs. What a sweet man. Yes, old Klonopin, plain old Valium, and of course, I smoke pot.
I told him I had bad feelings about my son and his dumbass told me I’d feel better if I talked to him about a Congressional Review. Right?
While he was chewing me out, stomping his bigass around, my roommate came out of his room and pretty much silently let Jim know to get the fuck out.
So to get even for me he wrote my address out so that if anyone wants to come hurt me or arrest me, they can find me easily now. Nice guy. He told people I’m a crazy cat lady and on drugs.
I told him I hope he gets hit by a semi truck and the pain he feels in his cirrossed liver and stomach is my hand.
If you like me, fine, I’m cool with it, you don’t like me, fine, I’m cool with that too, you make funny jokes about me, I laugh, I expect it, I have no problem with people just fighting it out.
However, what Jim Parks did with his “The Last Time I saw Berni” was a chickenshit move, he still has it up knowing that my son, who was always nice to his sorry ass, and when Greg was around G was a gentleman, always offering Parks tea or whatever he wanted.
Now Gregory Feazell who was nice to idiot Parks is dead but not as dead inside as Jim Parks who writes about me now after interviewing me, or trying to at the EXACT TIME my son was dying.
Much like Trump comparing himself to Jesus, Jim Parks calling himself a Christian and “Legendary” just makes me cringe.
Like me or not, I’m not showing up at your house, mean and lonely, a tough combination.
So Jim Parks, Merry Christmas, fuck you and bite me.
YOU knew my Greg and you are so chickenshit I haven’t heard from you and you are ever so butt hurt you leave your little revenge on me up online.
You can’t hurt me.