Former 2:24 marathoner, now in my late 40s and hoping to maximally flatten the curve of my slide into senescence and mediocrity • Magazine writer, book editor and author, and commentator on the sport of distance running since 1999 • Adviser and confidant of other perambulators • Paradoxical hater of exercise fanatics • Chihuahua whisperer Sentence-fragment impresario

Tuesday, June 5, 2018

The freak shows are being relocated (or colocated)

And update on an earlier idea: I’ve copied all of my posts about Steve McConkey and Kim Duclos to the Chimp Refuge, preserving these posts' original dates in the process. Although both Kim (new home) and Steve (ditto) once belonged to the running world, this is no longer true (although, exactly as anyone familiar with either of their habits could have predicted, they've become bonded to one another, if not to sanity, in their lie-soaked and unrelenting distaste for yours truly).

The Chimp Refuge has existed since 2006, and was originally designed in no small part to serve as a repository for derisive essays about religious loons anyway, and I’m no longer interested in sullying a legitimate running blog with new material about either person.

Because the Chimp Refuge was once part of the now-defunct network, it actually attracted a considerable number of hits in its day (we topped out at just over 90,000 unique visits one month in 2007), and thanks to the vagaries of Google indexing, it still gets more traffic than this one does in spite of my having largely neglected it in recent years. That aside, it's simply a more appropriate place to rant about the world’s reprobates, undesirables, and sickos. [If you really want to keep close tabs on the ridiculous things Steve writes and says, try this humble project.]

Neither of these people is ever going to change unless physically compelled doing so. I've been around a lot of troubled people in my travels as both an active and sober drunk, and neither Kim nor Steve has the constitution to just align their minds with objective reality.

Their respective caregivers are plagued with their own obvious problems, so as long as Kim and Stave have Internet access, each will continue their lying and delusion-mongering. Kim, in fact, is scrambling at this very moment to try to erase all evidence that I coached her; this isn't the first time she's tried this, but now she's using especially florid lies, empty threats, and demonstrably false (and possibly actionable) accusations aimed at one of my friends to bring this about. Ironically, I never tell people I coached her and wish fervently that I never had; she got plenty out of the arrangement, and I got stiffed in real time and hounded mercilessly ever since. Kim Duclos is probably the worst person,  head to toe, I have ever personally met, including people I know who have spent time in prison. She is thoroughly unrepentant about absolutely every wrong she's ever committed, and that includes a very long string of wrongs. Lawd ha'mercy, I haven't even started with the really jarring screen-shots from back in the day yet.

Although mental problems fuel Kim's and Steve's wild dissembling, I don't feel sorry for either one of them. Their "issues" hurt others too much for pity to be an option anymore, and their screwy actions, though fueled by psychological disarray (and in Kim's case, alcohol), are deliberate.  They are just damaged, babbling sacks of useless biomass and a drain on civil society, and they inhabit the highly disposable far-left tail of any imaginable bell-shaped distribution pertaining to overall human worth.

All of that said, there's a part of me I'm not at all proud of that insists on engaging people like this even when I know I won't get through to them. No one ever will. You can't teach even the brightest Golden retriever to play chess, and you can't reason with people whose minds are mush thanks to the unfortunate consequences of unfavorable gamete fusion. The right kinds of drugs to move either person back into the realm of normal functioning may not have been invented yet, and even if they have, neither one has been cajoled in the direction of getting help. With Kim I had little choice because of her baseless vendetta, which she's been carrying on now for a solid four and a half years. (You think marathoners have endurance? Insanity is endurance incarnate.) I've been a little meaner than I've wanted to in some ways but less so than I could have been, and now intend to be, in various others. Steve is just an old, stupid, daffy gay-bashing hypocrite who is using the Bible as a shield for his fears and insecurities, and rails about The Gay because of the things he despises about, and can't excise from, his inner self; no mysteries there.

That neither of these sad clowns has anything to lose by continuing to lie and throw tantrums is not exactly something I can say works in their favor (really, who wants to be a lifelong prisoner of vicious turmoil and social dysfunction?). But it's an issue to be aware of when dealing with dregs like these. Steve apparently never had any intention of doing an honest day's work in his life, and Kim has neither the intention nor the ability to remain employable. So as long as someone else is subsidizing their rickety lives, they have no impetus to be honest or remotely decent. They can spout the same arrant bullshit continuously and not even care that everyone knows they're lying, because when you're already lying in a mewling heap on the basement floor in your own stinking offal and effluvia, there's really no further you can sink. I suppose they could fuck up and cross the line from saying insane things to saying insane and actionable things, but as is characteristic of low-wattage yutzes, they don't have anything of material value to lose.

So that's that. At this point, I won’t delete the relevant existing posts from this blog, and the more astute among you -- and even some of you nitwits -- can probably figure out why.

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