Donald Carlos Seoane aka “Donny Long’s” Hacking and Negative SEO Sucks!

Notorious recist and internet terrorist Donald Carlos Seoane aka Donny Long Porn Wikileaks and

Hey Donny Long: Trying To Hack / Negative SEO Me? Don't Worry Bro, I've Got This!

I'll have this fixed right up. Your attack isn't my first rodeo. A valiant attempt that might have worked 4 years ago. Who knows, you might have even given me a boost. I don't need to build links, people just share.

Let me remind you, what you are doing is illegal. The hacking is, anyway. The negative SEO, I know how to handle without even having to disavow. Google knows I didn't ask for or want your spam.

A feeble attempt, actually, most irritating.

You Almost Got Away With It?


ocm negative SEO


It's a good thing because you almost got away with it. I am kind of like the Edward Snowden of the porn industry.

I know who is responsible for the ongoing attacks on my servers and hacking into my bank accounts.


Here Come More Truth Soup!


Let me see if I can map this out?


Donald Carlos Seoane: 5000 of the Worst Links on Earth Can't Hold Me Back



5000 of the most crappy links on the Internet couldn't hold me back. They all came from the same guy: Donald Carlos Seoane, a.k.a. Donny Long who is best known for PornWikiLeaks (a once a conriversial site, but gets about 20 hits a day now).

Hey Donny, if you're going to try to hack someone, you should cover your tracks a little better.

That said, I've got something for your ass.

The best defense is a good offense, right?

So you like terrorizing people on the Internet? Let's get this fucking party started!

The next post will have your name, location, criminal records and photos sent to Interpol.

Let's get this fucking party started! Donald Carlos Seoane: You can't hide in Thailand (or Miami) forever.

Let's bring this shit, Donald Carlos

PS: Hey Donny, if you are reading this (and I know you are) Google your real name!

While Donny is in the us he is claiming to not the owner of PornWikiLeaks, even thought this is not perefct, because people use CloudFlare for privacy (including groups like ISIS) you can see a patten developing.

I bet you had a blast leaking all of those girl's personal info on PornWikiLeaks for so many years.

Now the shoe is on the other foot.

You do dirt, you get dirt.


PS: I find it hilarious how he doesn't want his name on the internet! Lol, talk about hipocacy, I love the 4th grade all caps. It really drives the message home


10/8/2013: Meet The Day That Killed Me

“Suicide is painless, It brings on many changes, I can take or leave it if I please.” – Theme from MASH

10/8/2013: Meet The Day That Killed Me


Continued from Hurricane Bob.


I'm not going to make any friends with this blog post.

Today is July 26th, 2017.

No lie: I'm not doing well.

Truth Is, I've Been Dead 4 Years


The events of 10/8/2013, have left me permanently malformed. I have accepted the fact I cannot control this downward spiral. Before I pull a “Chris Cornell,” I'm taking a parting shot at my enemies.

People reassure me “Karma will catch up” with John JC Baumgartner, Morgan Mcnerny, Sandra McCarthy, Nick Melillo, and I'm adding to the shitlist Doug Vanderpool, ESQ, without whose collusion, wouldn't be so fucked.

Recently, I re-synched my old Instagram. I saw my former business partners (usually blocked) vacationing in Europe, with new houses, and fancy cars. Meanwhile, the guy who got them success is reeling in the dust, broke, cripple, and homeless. I don't give a rat's ass about material shit, but seriously: Fuck karma!

It's imaginary hippie shit.

The worst people rise to the top naturally.

Just look at who is president!

Prelude To Ruin


Back in 2013 one our content partner, TTboy was pissed off because his crappy ghetto porn wasn't selling and we weren't walking in his office with 70K checks.

Times had changed.

By 2013 porn hadn't been selling for a while.

Last year “adult” was a legitimate business 2008, in my opinion. Once air, freedom, AND porn free via Pornhub: Selling smut was like selling fire in hell.

And that was my job.

TT blamed everything on a “racist video” (below) I made 15 months prior mocking the Mr. Marcus syphilis incident, who infected dozens of girls by forging STD tests. I never had a problem with Mr. Marcus. I thought what he did was fucked up: SO DID EVERYBODY!



Throwback Thursday 2008: Why You Shouldn't Turn Down 8 Million Dollars!


In 2008 we turned down an 8 million dollar buyout from DeeCash (yes, you read right) My moronic business partners said, “TTBoy wouldn't be OK with it.” My stance was TT would dump us in a hot second for 8M, but was voted down. I could see the writing on the wall with porn tubes like RedTube gaining momentum. The industry was in for a rough ride.

The whole “Porn Tube phenomenon” came via a very loose interpretation of the DMCA law (the same regulation that governs sites like YouTube and Vimeo). However, the owners of Redtube and Pornhub were paying outsourcers in the Philippines / India to rip and upload stolen DVD content, which hardly fits the spirit of the law!

Fast Forward 2009


In 2009 invited to speak at the AVN’s on content piracy. I estimated, by bandwidth speeds of the day, it would take 14 hours to rip and upload one scene to a tube site. That meant no myspace, email, or file swapping while the upload clogged the user's bandwidth.


Just who were these porn philanthropists?


HMM, I wonder?

All of the tube sites were all owned by the same entity (Mandwin). The same videos would reappear just days after a DMCA complaint USING THE SAME FILENAME on another site in their network?


Still trying to connect the dots?


It wasn't tough to figure out the scheme. None of the Brainiacs in the industry could catch (Mindwin/Brazzers/Mindgeek) in the act.

“Organizing smut peddlers is like herding cats.”- Tony Morgan

Ironically, I had predicted this debacle in the late 1990's in this apocalyptic blog on Consumption Junction:

Today’s subject: FILE SHARING


Lately, there has been a lot in the news about file swappers. 1500 people sharing music fileses have been subpoenaed to appear in Federal Court by the RIAA this week.

There is a lot more than just MP3s shared online.


Yes, there’s a lot of software traded on file sharing networks. Did you know that Adobe Photoshop is $999? It seems every computer has Photoshop. Either somebody's been stealing, or my friends are richer than I thought.


Do you want to watch a wobbly bootleg theater copy of “Pirates of the Caribbean” with crappy sound? Jump over to Kazaa.


Every time there is an advancement in technology; the recording industry wants to crush it. During the 70’s the RIAA tried to sue the manufacturers of tape decks. More recently, there was similar outrage expressed over CD burners. Keep forking up $18 for crappy CDs with two good songs on it! Fuck progress. For decades the music business has been raping its customers. Now, the fat cats in the music biz can see the end of the gravy train, and they are starting to panic!


You should, under no circumstances – EVER, EVER share porn files! Our beloved American institution is in enough trouble. The attractive females of porn don't get paid enough to demean themselves. There’s barely incentive for a maladjusted teen with low self-esteem to start degrading herself on camera, let alone some LOWLIFE PORN THIEF stealing!

As the porn industry’s main revenue streams dry up, they will run out of lawyer money. With no more funds for lawyers, the folks that run the jizz biz will succumb to the Bush/Ashcroft’s Witch-hunt and get sent to prison. With businesses folding, it will displace millions of Americans, quietly leading decent lives marketing porn. These people, unable to find work elsewhere because of their past involvement in smut, will turn to violent crime and overload the courts and correction systems.

The porn industry will become a distant memory of the past, only living as a fading memory on file swapping networks!

With the porn industry out of the way, it leaves only one person for of the Republican goon-squad to come after:



The already saturated prison system will bog down further. The number of Americans incarcerated will outnumber those on the street.

With a giant multi-billion dollar sized hole left in the economy, the country will fall into disarray. There will be Merciless budget cuts. Healthcare will go first. New strains of disease will form and become pandemics.

With no more porn, billions of people will become bored and shut off their computers, causing a surge on the energy grid; leaving entire continents powerless. The only modern convince left will be automobiles. Survivors turn to them for heat, shelter, power and pray for death.

The hydrocarbons will strip the plant life, oxygen levels plummet, and thick pollution will block the sun.

With Gravity disrupted; the Moon will be knocked off kilter, and collide with the half-dead Earth; sending it hurtling into deep space.

Eventually, the particles of dust from the once mighty Terra Firma will appear again on a distant planet as shooting stars to a more advanced culture. These exceptional beings still exist because they were smart enough…





Dramatic pause.






Wait for it.





Keep waiting.






Now Back To Our Story…


As bad as the description of this Apocolypse sounds, it wasn't shit compared to October 8, 2013.

Originally, I was excited about that day because I had my first show with a new band (which was a big deal to me). A few weeks prior, I started getting calls from my parasitic business partners insisting we'd meet at OUR attorney's office (Doug Vanderpool) on Oct 8th.

Now, keep the “OUR lawyer” part in mind as (if) you keep reading,


Was I Was About To Become The First Person Banned From Porn For Being Too Big Of A Scumbag? (LOL)


My senses told me something was wrong, but also before October 8, 2013, Google had just rolled out its latest update (Penguin 2.1 (#5) on October 4, 2013). By predicting it, we'd blown over our high sales mark in several years. I worked every day, including weekends. Anytime my shit-head business partners wanted to reach me; they knew not to call my cell phone; call my office phone because all I did was work!

When tasked with a project, I always completed it on time and to specifications. I can't say the same for them. “My abilities” made the de facto “auditor” to look over new sites for mistakes because of my “eye for detail”. Was it my “eye for detail” or their will to be half-assed?

Some of both I imagine.

My partners were pissed because of TTBoy, but the ironic part was just months before, JC and Morgan wanted to drop TTBoy and replace his content with “some other n#gg&r porn” (their words not mine). I was the sole dissenter. I said we should keep TT, because we should have dumped him when 8 million was on the table, not now.

Killing The Goose That Laid The Golden Egg


Sensing an ambush, I printed out statistics and log of everything I’d been contributing. Surely they weren't stupid enough to kill the goose that laid the golden egg? I wrote the companies “creative accounting practices,” along with bank reports proving if I didn't continually monitor my account, I just wasn't paid. I guess they hoped I wouldn't notice, and several times I didn't. I was wise to the tactic because I'd caught JC red-handed jacking our affiliates, something I insisted must stop.

So on October 8, we had to have this meeting in Seal Beach. I politely asked if we could move this date. I would have to drive to from LA to seal Beach, then to North Hollywood to get my equipment and then Pasadena to play and finally back home; which is tantamount to a sentence of being trapped all day in LA traffic.

No, it had to be Oct 8, and you will see why these ruthless bastards were so inflexible with that date!

You can see the 181 mile treck below:


The Dangerours Meeting


John “JC” Baumgartner, who called the meeting, said not to worry “the meeting won't be a long”. By my calculation, I was responsible for all of the house traffic which was about 85%, especially after the Google update. Our biggest affiliate was bringing in less than 5% of total sales, my other business partners being responsible for 0%.


When I finally got to Doug Vanderpool's Office in Seal Beach. I was the one who found Doug seated with John “JC” Baumgartner, Morgan Mcnerny, Sandra McCarthy, with Nick Melillo absent.

This was going to be an execution.

Doug started the meeting by saying, “Does anyone need anything before we start?”

I made a joke “ shotgun” (to stick in my mouth). Doug left the room for a minute and returned with a large rifle and laid it on the desk.


Ut Tu Brute?


John “JC” Baumgartner


JC is a tough guy who spent a lot more time buying guns, taking steroids and going to MMA classes. JC gets his way through intimidation, so he opened the meeting in one of his trademark steroid rages.

JC, “Well Jay we're not even sure what you do.”

Thinking to to myself, “Pretty much everything.”

While I was working 16 hour days, JC had tried to start:

  • A location business
  • Got a real estate license
  • Tried to start an energy drink
  • Joined a 1% motorcycle gang
  • Disappeared once or twice a week on cocaine binges in Vegas
  • Spent a year trying to buy a strip club
  • Invent a green motorcycle
  • An MMA twitter site
  • That’s just what I can think of; I’m sure there is more


JC proceeded to pull out this chart showing how our sales weren't nearly what they were four years ago.


Well, guess what JC?



The fact that we were still taking DVD content and rebranding it into websites made us a dinosaur. The amazing part was we were the LAST DINOSAUR on earth after the meteorite hit the Yucatan coast. Thanks to my abilities as a marketer and aptitude to pull free traffic from anywhere, I had extended our shelf life WAY past its expiration date. I suggested many times that we update our business model or get into the mainstream. That would cost money and cut into what JC had been stealing.

There was a brief attempt to pull out all of the spreadsheets of stats I put together the night before. I might as well spent that previous evening taking one massive shit because I was never even given a chance to present them.


Sandra McCarthy


Next came Sandra McCarthy, who I had supported HER AND HER FAMILY for two years while waiting for OC Modeling to become profitable. Now that she had a lucrative escort empire running in Chatsworth, she arbitrarily decided she didn't want to pay me back. Little did I know I had been heading up a RICO sized prostitution empire with my property as a bond, and not reaping the proceeds.



All of a sudden, she magically has 39k in cash, which was the cost of my buyout from OCModeling that was written somewhere deep in the annals of the contracts that I should have read better her lawyer, I mean my attorney….I mean, their lawyer wrote.


Vanderpool Law: Now Accepting Payment In Cash, Checks and Prostitutes!


Doug had always worked for us “gratis” because Sandra would send hookers over as payment for legal services. She used him frequently to squash disputes with other pimps, models and file phony restraining orders.

Maybe now you are starting to see my confusion, conundrum, and conflict of interest.


A picture of Morgan Mcnerney Morgan Mcnerney Newport Beach-pornographer-chronic-Weed-and-pill-addict


Morgan McNerney pulled out a huge stack of papers with stuff scanned from my FaceBook page. He accused me of being a drug addict. Ironically, Morgan just got out of rehab last year. You shouldn't throw stones when you live in a glass house. He admitted that fact to me while asking that I remove Morgan McNerney Newport Beach Tranny King post.

As they started to produce each page and say how “Ï made the company look bad.”Which to me seemed rather ridiculous, considering WE ARE IN THE FUCKING PORN BUSINESS.

Among the items they said made them look bad was some statements made affirming my atheism, the infamous Mr. Markus song, stuff from my band, the fact I'd contracted tuberculosis and was jumped by some steroid asshole were also problems for the “company image” for some reason

My response:


“Who was I 15 years ago, before YOUR decision to get involved with me?

They didn't say anything.

So, I reminded them, “The same guy you see right now, if anything, I've mellowed out. Now that money is tighter, me being me is a problem?”

Doug asked if they all could step outside.


[Insert Canned Speech]


He Said, “Guys have been in this chair many times. Take them up on their buyout, or they will just force you out.”

It's not the best idea to take advice from a lawyer who arranged a meeting with your business partners and compensated for legal services in hookers.

I know that now anyway.

I liked Doug, I thought he was my friend, but the situation had become too convoluted. I should have gotten a real lawyer, fought and not taken their paltry 100K.

Doug handed me that dumb stack of papers, you said “go outside and shake their hands,” but I refused. As I left, those bastards were in his office busily shutting down anything I had tied to the company.

By the time I was back in LA, my credit card, bank, and phone cut off as I ran out of gas not far from my house. There was still had a show to play that night, which I managed to pull off, despite the mental trauma.


So Now What?



It's been a stuggle been trying to get back on my feet since, but between identity theft, bogus restraining orders, lawsuits, evictions, and not being able to play guitar anymore; it just isn't happening.

I'm not living anymore.

I'm just existing.


Karma and Sobriety Are Dumb


The sad thing, the last four years of my life have been my most sober.

Guess what?

Life was immeasurably better when “I was fucked up all the time.”

In summation, Sobriety is a concept, just like karma. Being sober (ish) has done nothing for me mentally, spiritually, health, relationship or money-wise.

Remaining are 150 pages of “the DTMHTRML good times” on my hard drive, but I can't get in the headspace to publish it. Life has changed so much; I don't feel like I was ever that person.

All of my “friends” have disappeared.

That's okay.

I wouldn't want to hang out with me either.

There isn’t a day I don’t think about suicide.


That said, this will be the final blog.

One reason for not drinking is I know my subconscious mind has the courage to do what my conscious mind doesn't.

It's time to get a bottle of Jäger, check out of this miserable world.

Every day above ground isn't a good one.

It's time to change that.


On Reddit WTF:

10/8/2013: Meet The Day That Killed Me from WTF






Cassidy Vivid Girl – Hurricane Bob (Prelude To Ruin)

Cassidy Vivid Girl – Hurricane Bob (Prelude To Ruin)

All women are born evil. Some…All women are born evil. Some just realize their potential later in life than others. – Jean Giraudoux

Why Nothing Good Starts In A K-Hole


Ketamine, I snorted it before. I thought I been to the infamous “K-hole”. After I had mainlined, I realized I hadn't come close. This porn chick gave me a “skin pop,” I walked two steps and then slumped next to my refrigerator and went into another dimension for 45 minutes.

One night, the girl came with a friend. We're supposed a threesome but just wound up banging K. My porn star buddy was a Samaritan and told girl #2, “If she ever needed some dick, I would be a good unattached guy.” A few quickies and months afterward, girl #2 rings me about dusk, and she says she wants me to meet her friend Bob. I thought, “Why are you bringing over a guy?” Then she texted me a picture of “Bob” – a stunning Latina with piercing green eyes.

hurricaine bob

As with most girls that would eventually make my life a living hell, I was smitten with her. I scrounged my house for drugs; we could find ecstasy, mushrooms, cocaine, and lots of alcohol. Bob and I took the mushrooms, while Girl #2 had a party of 1 with the blow. In few minutes, Bob was naked. I joked I could “eat pussy like a lesbian” and she asked me to prove it.

We will leave it at that.

10 minutes later, Bob and I were in our bedroom. The sexual chemistry was ten right off the rip. The other girl sat in the kitchen interested in little else but the bugger sugar. While Bob squirted, 300 orgasms, soaked my entire bed, and we had to go to the other bedroom to continue coitus.


porn fan guys


The Strange Thing About Porn Fans


Back in those days, I was banging 2-3 porn stars a day. I never thought about it. My “civilian friends” knew their names better than I did. They would always ask, “Have you ever banged [insert their favorite pornstar] and I would draw a blank because I always knew them by their first name. Then they would pull up a picture on their phone, and I would be, “Oh, Lisa, yeah I know her.” I always got along well with the girls because I was “in the industry,” but wasn't talent, so I was never looked on as “work”.

Bob was relatively a well-known Vivid Girl named Cassidy but I never heard of her. She'd flown in from Texas to do a few scenes and was supposed fly to her boyfriend (who somehow “didn't know” she did hardcore porn). I had fucked many porn chicks, have the multiple trips to see Dr. Rigg to prove it, but never tried to “date one”. Bob, and I had an attraction.


The Wager


She was supposed to be going home on Wednesday. I told her about my 4/20 party on Saturday. I joked she would be in California for that party.

She was.

One day became to the next. One week led to the next, and I realized Bob had blown off her boyfriend. She never called him and was living with me my proxy. I didn't have a problem with it because we were having a real time luring girls(sometimes from Ralph's parking lot) to join in our sexual shenanigans.

Call me a traditionalist, but I can’t take a porn star seriously. I just can't deal with knowing that some dude who probably has a dick bigger than mine (a tough feat) inside your girlfriend. I'll give Bob credit where credit is due, as soon as we hooked up she called her agent, Derek who runs escort agency The Luxury Companion with Dwight Cunningham and stopped doing boy-girl scenes. That costs her a lot of money, I'm sure.

Don't forget My first course on Udemy:
Only $10best video marketig course utill the 21st then up to $200

Bob and I got into doing GHB. I had pretty good experience with the G sex party rules: Not to drink much etc. Don't don't and missed booze. We would make videos of each other and other girls, G-passed out videotape it (sometimes it was me); it was some sick twisted shit. They always woke up and it was back to good fun. One weekend by the end of doing GHB for two days Bob insisted that we find another girl. Threesome etiquette dictates guys should never choose the girl. Bob asked, “I must know some bitches,” so I just started looking through my cell phone to find girls. We looked through my Facebook, and she said, “Oh, she's cute. “I joked, as a bonus, we would be able to get free drinks later.”



So summer came around, and Bob was still living with me, we never discussed it, it just happened. One day in the middle of the week, I was sleeping. Bob usually got up early to start drinking. She woke and said that I ought to look at my phone. My friend, Jeff Hanneman had passed just a few hours before from liver failure. I had seen Jeff only a few weeks before, and he seemed fine. He was the same Jeff I always knew guzzling Heineken and cracking jokes; I couldn't believe that he died. BTW: Jeff wasn't killed by a spider, it was (more on this later). I drank cried and played Slayer for the next two days.

I also had another problem; there was this girl I had had sex with around nine months prior that was claiming there was a good chance I might be baby’s daddy. The night I had sex her last, she was going to leave for rehab the next day and unbeknownst, she was living with her boyfriend who was in the house at the time.

Like Phil Lynett, I put my trousers on and got the fuck out.

I didn't hear until her child was born and there was a lot of back and forth as to who the dat could be. When she started getting a hold of me, it was the day after Jeff's death, and she also knew that I was friends with Jeff Hanneman because she was with me the night in the hot tub (hint, hint).

She kept telling me I have something that will cheer you up. I tried explaining I'm going through some heavy shit right now can we just hold off on this? She announced, Friday, and she says she’s coming over with the baby. I was like no, “there is a porn shoot shooting” at my house. She said well our son doesn't have problem porn. An underage person on set, while they're shooting porn, are all going to jail.

This is only a half truth; we were taking some stills for a model for OC modeling. There was no actual sex going on I was just trying to keep her at bay. So after the shoot, Bob and I tried to seduce the model, like we usually do. I go to the bathroom to take a piss, and I can hear the sound of my front door, I look, and there is baby's mama holding the kid standing in the middle of my living room. She said “Jason meet Owen,” “Owen meet Jason”. I looked into the child's eyes, and he looked at me with the same brown eyes and pointed his finger as if he knew me. It was surreal. So, Cassidy, was an excellent host playing with the kid, and babies mama is trying to make small talk, and we are just all hanging out.

The group consensus: It was mine.

We had a big bottle of Jager sitting on the table. Babies mama proceeds to pick it up and take to the massive swing out of it. We were all like “Hey, aren't you driving? That ain't cool.” So then she copped an attitude and asked me to have a word outside.

She says you know how I know this baby's yours and proceeds to pull out the kid's wiener in the cul-de-sac. I guess it was a big winner. I don't look at children winners. Then she proceeds to ask me if I can get some Xanax for her and then our drummer Freddy drives up a.k.a. (The Mexican Tom Linkous) dives in out and plays Capt. save-a-ho and said I had to be at being at band practice and the girl finally wound up leaving.


chris hayes


A friend of Bob invited us to a friend of mine Chris Hayes had a party way up in Canyon Country. Chris was the “husband” of porn star Allie Haze of whom had previously been without OC modeling but left so her suitcase primo man. Despite our business differences I had always gotten along with him.


Why I Will Never Speak The Same The Rest Of My Life


So the next day goes to the party, it was like a 30 or 40 miles drive out to Canyon Country where. When I got to the party, I said hi to Chris, and seemed glad to see me. I introduced them to Bob, and everything appeared to be well and fine. The party was okay, but it was just one those typical porn parties, there was always some bad vibe. So it starts to get darker, the alcohol runs out at the party, there is a guy there selling Molly. I was starting to sober up from the lack of alcohol in getting bored. I asked my buddy if we could leave, but there was some chick or something he was trying to bang, so we were kind of stuck.


just minutes before my stroke


We scrounged the basement fridge for beer, to no avail. Now what happened after that I only remember in vignettes of pieces and from what others have told me. Apparently only a few minutes after Bob and locked the door Chris came knocking on it, Bob got off my lap and went to open the door, but before she could even open it, he busted the door down. Chris is a big felon steroid-laden-fuck-with-a-2-inch-penis trained in martial arts. I don't remember because concussion, but I hadn't even gotten up off the couch and he just cold-cocked me to the jaw, the bunch wasn't so bad, it was my head smashing the concrete that was the brain leakage. Bob was freaking out, I was unconscious, there was blood everywhere, and the other people at the party started to file in the room.

I woke up about 10 minutes later, still not sure of what was going on. I charged Chris there was another skirmish, but then somebody opened the garage door, and I walked outside, and my friend gave me a ride back. When I got to my home, Bob said I was confused, walking into walls and didn't even know what happened. Freaked out when I looked at my face in the mirror and saw how fucked up I was. Ike came over and said that I at least probably had a broken jaw, so they took me to St. Joseph's Memorial Hospital. The same place where I had been treated for tuberculosis and Ike was brought in for a drug overdose the just week before. I initially didn't think it was that bad. They took me to get a CATscan; the doc came back, I will never forget these words “Son your brain is hemorrhaging, you had the worst type of stroke you could have. If the hemorrhaging hasn't stopped in the next few hours, we are going to have to get you into brain surgery. I couldn't believe it, so I called my mother it was Mother's Day about 3 a.m. EST and left the news on their answering machine. Bob held my phone in case they called back. Meanwhile not being in the best state of decision-making I left a post on Chris's Facebook page saying something to the effect of a “mother fucker, I'm in the hospital I just out of bucking stroke,” and I'm going to get back. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.


jason quinlan - chris hayes

The best offense, being a good defense, Chris ran around the house punching windows and called the police and said I had attacked him with a knife.

The only permanent loss I speak with the speech impediment.

In the meantime, Bob would wake up every morning with a big glass of grapefruit juice and block a and would proceed to get drunk throughout the day. Which I don't mind, but when you're trying to be sober, it's annoying to have drunk people around you. I even tried to drop her hint like “Hey Bob do you know how when you go to bars, and you are sober, and there are a bunch of drunk people aren't they annoying?” I guess she didn't get to hint.

A few weeks later Bob was supposed to leave on a trip to visit some friends in Tennessee. The day before we decided to do G and have our girl from the over again, it was a great 24-hour sex-a-thon, and by the end of it, I was way too wasted to take Bob to the airport, so she had made some arrangements with their friends to meet up nearby. I passed out for a little bit, and when I woke up next to me I noticed Bob was out cold, I tried to wake her up, but she was G doubt. Eventually, our friend back came over. We both sat there and tried to wake her up for a while; then her friends started calling her cell phone and leaving text messages leg “Hey, you dumb bitch wake up”.

We wound up leaving, and I started getting on the Internet, to look up what the symptoms of the GHB overdose were. My unprofessional guess: III GHB overdose which could be fatal. I knew that I had to get her to the hospital, so I put on some sweatpants on her the floor. We dragged her out to my car; I drove Bob to the (now familiar) St. Joseph's Hospital in Burbank As soon as I got her out of the car I could see that the sweatpants she was wearing were covered with my jizz. I was like there is no way I am bringing some OD’ed bitch into the emergency room with sweatpants covered with jizz. So I drove her back to my house and got her something more decent

When we brought Bob in the hospital there was no waiting in; we were put straight through to the emergency. I could see doctors in the room trying to resuscitate her with the paddles of life. Meanwhile, I could see a large contingency of the Burbank Police Department was now gathering in the lobby. After one swift paddle, Bob woke up and started hitting the doctors, so they knocked her back out with another downer. I could see more cops gathering and starting to point in our direction.

In California, there is a law where they are not allowed to arrest you for bringing someone into a hospital that has overdosed. However, Burbank is its municipality. Almost like in Soperton. So I drove back to my house, scrounged through all of the drawers and try to find all the drugs, and I had been in the woodpile in the hills above my house. Since I'd already parked my Mercedes in the garage, I decided to drive my truck back to the hospital.

Upon arriving, I could already see a ton of the pork already had Girl #3 surrounded and was questioning her. We got our stories straight in case this happened before going. Since she was the at the Rainbow the night before, we were just going to tell her some guy slipped her some G because she was well-known and easily recognized porn star.

Cops surrounded me in the parking mall and said don't you need the warrant to search my house. Or far refuse they would just wait for the next day and get one. I figured I would lower their defenses, the drugs out of plain sight; I said sure to come over and search. They let me drive my truck back to the house, and the two cops went to my room for the little bit and then searched the back of my car and didn't find anything. So I asked them if I could politely go back to the hospital and make sure my girlfriend hasn't died.

When I finally got back to talk to them, they told me that Bob had been so combative that they were going to knock her out and she probably wouldn't be awake again for the next 24 to 48 hours.

When the cop saw me come back in, they took me into a room just opposite rooms drilling with questions. One of the pigs finally came up to me and said our stories weren't matching up. They told me that I answered the door and for the other girl, but he told me she rang the doorbell or some minor detail and that's how they knew we were both lying. I wasn't paying attention focused on was Bob

Bob's little scare the hospital didn't last because soon she was back to waking up at eight in the morning and drinking a grapefruit juice and vodka for breakfast. I was working a lot and wasn't drinking, and I tried to explain to her that you know how you can go to bars when you are sober because drunks are annoying, I was telling her that every day of my life was beginning to feel like that.

One Saturday, my good friend Ahn was having a birthday party/going away party, and I asked Bob to release day and good enough condition so we could go that night. Instead, both of us started drinking around for that afternoon by the pool. I can handle my alcohol fairly well, but by the time it even got time to get dressed to go out Bob was three sheets to the wind. Ahn had arranged to have a whole room rented out at a nice restaurant on Melrose. We got there, and they had champagne and Bob saying “bubbles mean trouble” bubbles mean trouble, we sat down to eat, and Bob was so obnoxious that I said let's just go. We walked out onto Melrose and whoever was driving the next car should be at the Indy Grand Prix because Bob didn't even look as she went across the street and the car that turned to swerve out of just mowing her down.

At this point, I couldn't take anymore, and I just handed Bob 80 bucks, and I said take this Anywhere but my house. I walked through the streets of Hollywood, it was now nearing midnight, and I tried and tried to flag down a cab in vain, so I just Walking and walking until I finally said Fuck it and just walked the rest of the way home myself which was some 8 miles.

When I got back to my house, I could see Bob's high heels in the driveway and then I went inside and didn't see her in my room, but found her passed out in a guest room. I popped a Xanax and decided to call it a night.

While I was sleeping the next morning, Bob kept trying to come in and asked me if I wanted breakfast as if nothing had happened the night before. I just told her to leave me alone because I was sleeping and hours tired because I've walked 8 miles home.

By the time I woke up, it was about noon, and it was time to talk to Bob about the night before. Her friend Kristi was already over, and as soon as I went to speak to her, I could tell she was drunk as hell again. By this time I'd had it, I told Bob to take her she had and got the hell out of here she had made me look like a complete asshole, which is hard to do, and now it wasn't even noon, and she was tossed again, unbelievable. I told her that I had it, and she should take her shit and get the hell out of my house.

That same weekend I, supposed to go with my friend Brent Hinds (Mastodon) deep-sea fishing, but I had plans, so I didn't go. After I got Bob out of the house. I went to meet some friends in Venice Beach and try to chill. I was only down in Venice Beach was when Brent called me up. Apparently, the fishing trip had been a disaster, the broke down off international waters, and now he was stuck at a friends house whose girlfriend was bitching him out for getting home late. I said ran back to my house, not long different friends show up i droves, and it breaks out into one giant spontaneous party. Per the number of people there I could see we had put away A LOT of alcohol. My backyard littered had never been littlered with so many beer cans.

Bob and I broke up after that, but as many breakups go it wasn't a clean split. After the big spontaneous party. There were a few girls over, and I might have banged one of them, and she left some panties and my bathroom. The next Bob wanted to talk to me, but I didn't want to speak to her. She found the panties and erupted to another round of fighting.

Bob and I went our separate ways after that, most of the time. A friend of mine brought overa synched copy of Bob's iPhone who been using to do hooker stuff. I've busted her in every lie and cheated known to man.

Clients, days, everything.

It was brutal.

I heard Bob is married now, with kids these days, in all seriousness, I want her to help herself and straighten her act out.







The Sebastian Bach Career Ender Video


“Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon, You come and go, you come and go.” – Boy George

The Sebastian Bach “Career Ender” Sex Tape!

For those who choose to watch this video: Do so at your own discretion! In a unique way, it's equally is haunting as an ISIS execution:

The Sebastian Bach Career Destroyer from Jason Quinlan on Vimeo.

Amended 12/18: it looks like Minnie Gupta filed in DMCA request. That's OK because I was going to take down the video anyways because she explained she had been dealing with harassment from him for the last two years. Honestly, I was going to apologize to her for not getting around to posting it sooner! LOL See:

If you were late to the party, this is what you missed.

The ISIS execution might be going a bit far, but you get my point.

I've had this sitting on my Vimeo account set to private for months. The footage was sent to me by my ex-girlfriend, who went on to date Sebastian Bach a few years after we broke up.

We were friends before we dated for a year and are cool to this day. She's a rad and smart girl, way out of Sebastian's league.

I thought it was an odd combo.

I always sized up Sebastian Bac is being a massive douche bag, but in the few times that I met him, he seemed like he was pretty cool.

After hearing a few horror stories from her, he must've on his best behavior because he knew her ex was present.

Initially, I didn't know why she sent it to me, but then I read he dumped her for some bimbo he just met, married her days later and charged people money to come to his wedding.

Talk about a douche move?

Can't get much douchier!

A friend suggested she was obviously hoping I’d put it on the internet.

Seeing as the whole Charlie Sheen controversy didn't exactly hurt my Alexa and I don't have anything to lose….

I said, “Fuck it” and posted “The Sebastian Bach Career Ender“.

So now I have to ask myself a question?

Am I like Jules from Pulp Fiction, “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil.” or am I a douchebag blogger taking advantage of a celebrity to get more traffic.

It helps to see people whose life and is more of a mess than mine and to look down on!

jason quinlan hallowen pulp fiction
I know one thing for sure: The world-famous penis chart from Metal Sludge can't be entirely accurate because my dick is way bigger!

Just for fun, we can put this to a vote….

JASON QUINLAN: Douchebag blogger or champion of women's rights?

View Results

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If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbuck for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

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How I Got Into Dealing Drugs

Preamble: Quick note before I get started. Mom, Dad or anyone in my family reading this, please exit the browser now. The events detailed in this post were a long, long time ago. Sandra McCarthy don't get excited and try to drop dime again because I can hardly afford my own drugs these days, much less sell them.

As I had mentioned in my previous post, in moving back and forth across the country, coupled with a computer crash, and nerve damage, I thought I lost the raw 180 pages of “my glory days” from the first draft of the book.

Luckily, I searched my Gmail and found an email I had sent to myself from July of 2016, so I'm fairly sure, I have the whole thing again.

Bad old days, here we come!

Chapter 4: How I Got Into Dealing Drugs

“People don't sell drugs, drugs sell themselves.” – Chris Rock

Like porn, drug dealing was never anything I had considered doing for a living. It found me. Drugs were my chief source of income from the early to late 1990's.

I've always been a stoner. I smoked pot five or six times when I was 13 before I ever got high, but I loved it. When I lived in Connecticut, we'd get our parents to drop us off roller skating; then we would sneak out to the graveyard, smoke joints and play ice hockey. I can remember the first time I felt the effects and have been a committed stoner since.

At 18, one of the things I was looking forward to in Georgia was the vast difference in weed prices. In Connecticut, a quarter was $60 and not high quality. In Atlanta, a quarter of weed was $40 and slightly better.

There was a hitch, every year during the end of summer ATL would “go dry, ” and marijuana would be impossible to find. That July I moved there was the worst drought on record. Finding a nug would be like finding a brick of gold.

It was that bad.

Once I had my truck unpacked, my next order of business was scoring a bag. Crazy Chris called a few of his pot dealers, but everyone was out. That year, I can remember the police erecting billboards on the interstate stating, “you think it's dry this year, wait till next year” with a big marijuana leaf and international no sign.


I was frustrated and sober.


One of the first days in Atlanta, I was going to see where my mailbox was in my apartments, this older black guy in a car drove up and asked me if I was looking for weed. I responded, “Hell, yeah.” I had the cash; he took off his hat with a bunch of 1/8th bags rolled up in it and I bought one. He lived in my same apartment complex, gave me his number and said call him if I need more. I strutted back to my building with my first half-price Georgia dirt-weed. Everyone was dumbfounded “the new guy” could find weed, where the locals had failed.

Within an hour I am back at his apartment scoring a bag for Crazy Chris and then a few hours later, for Chris's friends, who I didn't even know. I started making 3 or 4 runs per day to the dealers' place. For a few days, I got the sacks for people without making a profit other than they'd smoke me out or give me a joint. As the week went on, people kept calling, so I proactively bought an ounce. I figured I could sell three-quarters and get my weed free. After another week I started making a lot of “new friends” because I was the only guy who could score weed. Eventually, knowing that business was incoming. I bought 2 ounces, two became 3, and soon I'd moved up to a “QP” (quarter pound).


Without knowing it, I had become a drug dealer.


I had a few “regular” quote jobs too. I worked at UPS for a while unloading trucks. I also used to work for my friend “Johnny Cold Beer” installing carpet. I will save those debacles for another chapter, as they were adventures in themselves.

Between working, selling drugs, partying and my girlfriend Beverly that had just moved up from Connecticut, I had my hands full. I never went to many classes at school and dropped out in the first quarter. I already knew some pretty advanced music theory just from years of reading guitar magazines, so everything at school was a refresher.


dave from distemper


While I was working at UPS, I met this guy Spencer who had a similar side hustle. He had a better connection than the guy at my apartment building, so together, we graduated from “QPs” to pounds.

Some guys from Kentucky tried to stick us with a few pounds of really moldy dirt weed with maggots and it during the dry spell the second summer. We told them we didn't want this shit, and they could have it back. They refused, Spencer knew one of them had a big grow operation in the back of his house, so one October morning after work, just as it was time for harvest, we went to his greenhouse and chopped down all the flowering weed. We cruised down Peachtree Industrial Highway in rush hour traffic with marijuana plants darting out of every orifice and Spencer's compact car. Keep in mind; this was long before the tolerant medical marijuana years; this was 1991 Georgia: In the eyes of the law, we were carrying a life sentence in Reidsville State Penitentiary.


Not long after I quit UPS.


Besides from working with Johnny a bit from time to time, I never had a “real job” again.

After a while, I lost touch with Spencer and was introduced to “Hippy John.” John was involved at a higher-level than Spencer. He was arranging shipments of hundreds of pounds of weed from Mexico. He became my new connection, and I was his right-hand man. We dominated the ATL spot market by having “mids,” which was HQ weed but not as expensive as hydroponic, and far better than the cheaper Mexican dirt weed. The best thing about “mids” was they had the highest profit margin and demand.

By 1995, Dick Delicious wanted to play a lot more shows out-of-town, so I wanted to solidify my income. I had a truck that I barely drove so I sold it for $3000 and picked up 3 ounces of the blow. I didn't know if I'd have any luck selling it, but within 48 hours the cocaine was gone, and I was re-upping. I don't like cocaine that much, so I made for a good coke dealer.

Say what you want about the morality of dealing drugs, but many people have asked me how I got so “good at business.”


I learned it by selling drugs.


From my stint as a drug dealer, I can do even relatively complex math calculations in my head. For example, if I bought X per ounce of blow then I could Break it up into to X, Y and Z at know what the profits were from each. Selling drugs is a service industry, and a big part of it was just available and in stock.

For a brief time, I tried to sell ecstasy because coke clients often wanted ecstasy as well. What I've noticed is cocaine cancels ecstasy out. You just stopped rolling (that's no fun). I found myself buying a hundred pills and giving 80 of them away to chicks at parties when I was rolling my face-off. I was a shitty ecstasy dealer, so I didn't mess with it long.

The funny thing was for all the drugs I've dealt the only trouble I ever got into was for personal possession. While I was in jail, Hippy John kept supplying my girlfriend with the mids, so I never missed a beat.

When I got out of prison, I briefly considered going straight and getting a real job, but the problem with being a convicted felon on probation is no one wants to hire you. So I jumped back into drugs with both feet, this time with the threat of probation looming over my head.

I went another two years or so slanging hard, during this period that my Internet porn career was starting to take flight. I eventually approached my suppliers and told them that I wanted to get out of the game because I was making more money legally. Because I had always been trustworthy, paid cash, and could move product — they didn't want me to leave. So they made me an offer I couldn't refuse.


No, it wasn't a death threat.


They offered to make my life easier! They set me up, so all I would have to was pick up an enormous amount about once per month. I had three guys, I could trust, so I immediately split it up between them. When 30 days or so would pass I would collect my money, restock, rinse and repeat.

Finally, I decided to move to California. I went to my suppliers and told them I was out of the business and this time I meant it. To placate them I made the introduction to the two guys that I had distributing for me, thereby cutting myself out as the middleman. To this day, they are still in the game, as far as I know.

Now with that out-of-the-way, I had a few more loose ends to tie up. I had this big envelope full of cash in my room. To be honest, I never counted it, but I assumed it contained something like $2000 or $3000. My girlfriend and I had mostly used it as drinking money when we went out to bars. The night before I was counting it and my estimate were way off! There was over $20,000 that envelope. I had heard of the crime of structuring deposits (anything over $10,000 must be reported to the IRS). So we took the money and deposited it $5000 at a time into separate ATMs.


I never got caught.


Ever since then, I've been a buyer, not a retailer.

And that was how I got into dealing drugs.


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How I Got Into Dealing Drugs from Drugs








Thursday 8/18/2016: The Worst Day of My Life!

They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues – Steely Dan

Jason Quinlan on guitar in Los AngelesThursday Was The Worst Day of My Life By A Long-Shot!

I've been through a lot of hard shit lately, but this week, by far, has been the most difficult pill to swallow: I am officially done as a guitar player, which has been my life lifelong ambition and one real passion.

photo of ulner nerve surgery
After losing my house in California, I was forced to drive across the country with the few things that I wanted to keep: My guitars, amps, computers and other musical equipment.

One of my big reasons for coming to Atlanta was because, even though I was in bands in LA, I always just joined just to keep up my chops, not because I was particularly into what they were doing musically. I always had to be playing. Even if I weren't jamming in a band, I would pick up the guitar for at least a half hour a day to practice. Despite all the craziness and my detour into porn, I have always considered myself (above all things) a guitar player. I think if you Google my name it even suggests it. I figured I could move to Atlanta, join a few bands, and slowly start piecing my life back together.


Jason Quinlan practicing guitar in Los Angeles


Of course, I would never have that kind of luck. My drive from Los Angeles to Atlanta was loaded with detours and road construction. I should've known I had bad luck in the mail when on the second day I went to adjust the driver's side mirror, and it just fell into the highway and smashed. The 35-hour drive turned into a 45-hour drive.

By the time I was on my third day, I was still west of the Mississippi. I decided that no matter how long I had to drive, I was going to reach Atlanta. I drove from 10 AM that morning until 1 AM the next day without stopping once, except to refuel and grab a coffee and gummy bears.


Jason Quinlan playing guitar at the beach in 1989


By the time I reached Atlanta, I was exhausted but glad I finally made it. I immediately crashed out for a few hours and then when I woke up, I took my beloved ESP Guitar (which belonged to Jeff Hanneman) and tried to play a few notes. My ring finger was half numb, and I couldn't feel my pinky at all. I had lost all dexterity in both fingers and didn't even have the strength to push the strings down with my left hand.


I Should Have Never Done Things Right Handed?


I'm left-hand dominant; I just play guitar right-handed for some reason.

At first, I blew it off, thinking it was just my body tired from the drive, but after a few days, it didn't get better. I decided to go to a chiropractor, after a few adjustments, he told me if I hadn't seen any improvement at all I should see an orthopedist.

I had already been doing some googling, and I had correctly diagnosed myself with a “compressed Ulnar nerve“.

In the meantime, some asshole found one of my old checkbooks I left at my house in California and thoroughly emptied my bank account to $0 (-$500 actually). I am still trying to straighten that out with the bank.

This past Thursday I went into the Emory Spine and Orthopedic Center to get checked out.

You know you were in trouble when you go to the doctor, and the first thing he says is, “Oh shit!”

Apparently, I have some of “the worst Ulnar nerve damage” he's ever seen. Oddly enough, it was the driver's side door from Los Angeles to Atlanta that did me in. Too many hours of it bumping around on the door compressed something in my elbow and impinged the nerve

jaso quinlan ulrar nevrve surgery

The Surgery Was A Dud


I'm going in for surgery on Tuesday, but it's a “Hail Mary,” best case scenario 18 months to 2 years recovery time, but I'm likely never to recover because the nerve is already dead and the muscle in my hand has already begun to atrophy. I know, the same thing happened to Dave Mustaine, that was in 2002 when he could heal quicker as well.

Of a lot of hard days I've had lately, Thursday was by far the worst.

In case any of you motherfuckers thought I was a slouch on guitar: I could play even the best under the table. I was going to put together a compilation of guitar solos, but it is emotionally too much for me to handle right now. Here's just a taste, follow the link to the video for more:


Personal Soundcloud: – (a little bit of everything with a lot of unreleased home recordings)

Dick Delicious and Tasty Testicles the band I'm best known for)

The Despised: – A Punk band featuring Atlanta comedy kingpin Rodney Leete. I wrote all the hit songs but got none of the credit. Now my music career is over, they say comedy comes from a place of pain, I have plenty of that.

Bath Salts Cannibals: – Thrash project that was struck down before it had a chance to bud because the other guitarist developed cubital tunnel syndrome (ironically).

The Spo-It's: – This band has been kicked out of more clubs in the Southeast than GG Allin.

Operation and Asparagus: – These are all home recordings with me playing every instrument. No particular genre but they're a few hits, perhaps best known for “Ballad of Mr. Marcus” and “Real Men Get Drunk On Tuesday.”

Kreep – Los Angeles Project with singer Brett from the band Bile>.

Rumble Pig Version 1 & Version 2 – only audio/video record avaialable here.

COV – spare your ears, Lamb of God wannabes.

So that's my musical “career” in a nutshell. Maybe I'll try comedy for a minute, if not, I'm going out like my man HST.

It's not like I make money writing this. Donations are always appreciated! 🙂

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Tuberculosis and Me

What do Nelson Mandela, George Orwell, Tom Jones, Cat Stevens, Desmond Tutu, Florence Nightingale, Edgar Allan Poe and Jason Quinlan all have in common? – We Are All Tuberculosis Survivors!

jason quinlan in the hospital

Tuberculosis and Me


In March 2008, I had my official “Off Probation” party! I was free — finally free from rednecks cops in South Georgia.

Or was I?

During that time I was in an on-again-off-again relationship with a girl named Yvette. If there is one regret in this book/blog, I should've stayed with Yvette. At the time I was making money hand over fist, I had a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, a condo on the Vegas strip, a Mercedes, was relatively young, in porn, and had bitches on my dick like they had scurvy and I could cum orange juice.


picture of yvette garcia and jason quinlan

It was a lot of temptation: Being young, rich and having lots of shiny objects. I wanted to live that lifestyle for a minute, or that's what I thought. Now, in this late hour, I can tell you none of it means a goddamn thing.

I admit, I went a bit crazy drinking and partying when the whole probation debacle had ended. I would selfishly break up with my girlfriend, so I could go out and go nuts, and then we would always wind up back together.

But just a month later, in April 2009 I started to wake up late at night drenched in mysterious pools of sweat. At first, I thought it was just my nerves or maybe just partying. As the weeks went on, my condition worsened.

Nights Sweats?


I started to Google “night sweats” on Web MD and saw there were three conditions commonly associated with night sweats:

1. Menopause – I could rule that one out!

2. Tuberculosis – Nobody gets that disease anymore!!

3. AIDS – I knew it, I had the monster: The High Five. All those women. All that unprotected sex. I went down to the AIM clinic (the old porn clinic) to get checked for HIV. You'd get your results in 24 hours. That endless night, I mentally Rolodexed every shady piece of pussy I've banged. I narrowed down to 2 or 3 girls that gave me the bug. Fortunately, of the tests came back negative. For a short time, the symptoms abated. I chalked it all up to being psychosomatic.

It wasn't long before the symptoms came back except a worse. I would start sweating the bed so profusely that I would have to change my clothes and sheets two or three times almost every night, during the day I began to feel weak, but oddly enough I never coughed up blood or did anything like your typical tuberculosis patient.

By the end of May, I couldn't ignore the sickness anymore. I was starting to feel run down and losing weight, but still wasn't convinced that it was anything serious, so I went to see a doctor and told him, “I think I have the flu.” He checked my breathing. My left lung obstructed. The doctor said I should go directly to the emergency room and get a chest x-ray. It didn't seem like my left lung, was inflating.


How I Lived For 2 Months On One Lung


I was so sick that one of my lungs had already collapsed. The funny thing was, the doctors said my lung had been collapsed for about two weeks. Even stranger, I was still able to workout and go on 20-mile-bike rides. I had no clue I was doing it on one lung!

I got to the emergency room and admitted immediately; I still didn't think I was that sick. The medics start running all kinds of tests, X-rays, TB, HIV, bloodwork, immune response, and everything checked out normal, but I keep getting sicker and sicker. That is the thing with TB, once the virus goes “active” it doesn't show up anymore on those pinprick tests like you used to get school. What they are doing is injecting a small amount of tuberculosis to see if your body will resist it. Of course, when your body is loaded with TB the test turned out negative.

Once I have a negative TB and HIV test they began treating me for rare diseases such as Valley Fever. They put me on antibiotics so hard-core it wasn't used in humans anymore. That just made me sicker.



X-rays show that I have a massive effusion in my pleural cavity. They drain the liquid out of me by sticking some spikes in my back. I was awake for this, and it was terrifying, but the infection it still keeps coming. The doctors think it might be TB and order a second round of test that proves inconclusive.

Halfway through my stay, I have to get a major operation (a thoracostomy) to remove the infection from my lungs. The operation is a success, but the infection still keeps coming. If the source of the infection still couldn't identify, so if this didn't stop I was going to go through all of this again

After being in the hospital for 18 days, they think that I way have had and am released. The day after I get home, a blood test used to screen for TB came back positive. To find out if I had TB, I would have to wait six weeks for the results of my biopsy. To be safe, I was placed on a regimen of anti-TB meds.

The odd thing is withing 3-4 days of taking them I felt as if nothing had happened.


Tuberculosis Positive


In July, the results of my biopsy came back: I had tuberculosis. Worse yet, I've left the hospital with an active case of it. To this very day they quarantine TB patients.

I probably had contracted TB somewhere overseas in my travels or (even more ironically) in prison. TB an airborne disease that anyone can get, one-out-of-3 persons in the world ARE exposed to it; it just requires something to wear you body down (in my case it was alcohol) enough to become active. I also had atypical pleural TB, which isn't in your lungs, so I could't cough and spread it. If you hung out with me in that period you are fine “I wasn't contagious”.

I spent the whole summer of 2009 sober. I wasn't even smoking weed. Honestly, once the TB meds had taken effect, I felt pretty much normal, aside from the pain from the surgery.



If you have been reading this far, you probably realize: I like to drink. I can't help it. I suffer from a form of social anxiety. I am a silent and shy person naturally; it takes some alcohol< to bring be out of my shell. When I am sober, even the most mundane of social scenarios make me nervous and fidgety. If you know me, that may seem ridiculous, but it's true.

One of the cruel tricks TB meds play on you is they completely cure the disease (if taken correctly) but destroy your liver at the same time. The state also assigns the health department on you. It's a total pain in the balls, and ironically it was just like probation!

The last 6 months of 2009, I have been getting complete blood workups done once a month and as of December 17, 2009, I was completely cured, and my liver survived. I would always ask the doctor “Are you sure you have the right chart?” when he said everything as OK.

So, I am free to live my life again, right?

Not Really!


If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

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At Least I’m Not Mike South

If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not seek revenge? – William Shakespeare

lemmy xxxjay

At Least I'm Not Mike South


In my last post, I initially made the mistake of linking to a blog written by Mike South.

Who is Mike South you might ask?

Don't worry about it; he's a nobody.

When I have the sporadic thought of suicide, I just remind myself that I could have been born Mike South, and I go on to live another day.

The post was regarding “Dave” from the Luxury Companion. Guess who I got a call from last night?

Dave from TLC.

Dave was very cordial, and we cleared the air about past misunderstandings. There was no discussion of his “legal troubles” (which have been widely misreported by Mr. South) and we mostly bonding discussion over our mutual hatred of Sandra McCarthy and the rest of The Gay Mafia currently controlling the mortally wounded porn business.

Mike South's post correct. I would link you over to his blog, but I don't want your IQ to drop. Last night, I buried the hatchet with Dave, and we both realized we would've made better friends than “enemies,” had the cards played out differently.

It doesn't matter to me if he was or wasn't pimping out girls behind my back that isn't his problem.

According to Mike South, that's his vocation.

My problem is unknowingly being the head of a Rico-sized prostitution empire run by Sandra McCarthy.


Sandra McCarthy Prostitution


Sandra McCarthy: Human Sex Trafficer


They say don't do the crime if you can't do the time. It's also said crime pays, but if you are not receiving any of that delicious tax-free human trafficking money, this slogan isn't true either.

When I write, people pay attention. I don't need to spam GFY with links to set traps for the trolls. That's all I was using GFY for anyways, until they banned me. That is going to hurt thier Alexa rank for sure, which is already pretty bad. Unlike, Mike South, I don't put a robots.TXT file to block my posts from being indexed in to deny I posted something.

I speak my mind, and I own what I say. I don't take posts down.

A picture of xxxjay and lemmy from GFY
Mike South has the unmitigated audacity to call himself a “blogger,” plagiarize my posts and then go on to criticize me public forums as he did with Lemmy post. I never said Lemmy was my best friend. I merely shared stories from the last two decades I've known Lem.

Here is a screenshot of Mike's post, do you notice any similarities to mine:

Screen Shot 2016-07-15 at 3.35.31 PM
My 2-hour conversation with Dave and / GeneRossIsBack / “Seo Guy”(LOL) Internet Terrorist Donny Long was rather entertaining. Apparently, Sandra McCarthy was supposedly trying to make use of Dave's “political connections” with judges to obtain a search warrant for the police to raid my house because I was “dealing cocaine”. With certainty, if she had been telling Dave to drop dime on me, there is no doubt in my mind she was doing it herself and having others do it.

That is how much of a CUNT Sandra McCarthy is. Since we are on the topic, let's get a few facts straight.

1. The mass exodus of porn girls from 101 talent was main reason Sandra wanted to squeeze me out. She saw the opportunity to double roster. Why split twice the money three people instead of 2?

2. Sandra falsely alleged that I was a Coke dealer. Was I a big cocaine dealer? No. Would the cops have found cocaine at my house, had they decided to raid it? Maybe. There might have been some baggies in the “drug pockets” of jeans I washed or half empty bag sitting in a drawer somewhere I'd forgotten about. That was three years ago. In a community with a median age of 60 and a very active neighborhood watch, they would have nailed me by now. The cops never came to call. Do you know why? Simple, because I wasn't selling cocaine!

Here's the catch: Let's say the police had found a minuscule amount of devils dandruff I'd forgotten? That would be enough to force me out of the partnership, rather than buy me out. If I was the big cocaine dealer that she claimed, wouldn't I still be living up in that beautiful house in the Hollywood hills, instead of homeless in Atlanta? Which brings me to my next point of contention….

3. Sandra McCarthy told everyone in the porn business I was bought out for $250,000. That is an out-and-out lie. I will swallow my pride and tell you the exact amount I was “bought out” of OC Modeling for $32,000. Yes, you read that right, that wasn't a typo: $32,000. You can get on food stamps and make more. Let's remember; the agency didn't earn money for the first three years. While Sandra bungled her way through the first original partnerships and just clung on like a dingleberry in the part of your asshole that you can't wipe, and trashed talked people out of their jobs which grew the business like Phil Mac; Sanda usurped the throne by attrition. If you did the math, technically I lost money. And that doesn't include checks never mailed to me for falsely endorsed and deposited in other bank accounts via Katie's creative accounting process.

4. Sandra McCarthy claims to have come into the porn business through her experience as a “mainstream talent agent.” That is another lie. When she left her job working in a custom closet company and continued to fail miserably at running a porn agency until Phil Mack got things into full swing, I covered her rent, expenses and supported her family while patiently waiting for the business to turn a profit. Her name was not on the bond, nor was John Baumgardner. That was me.

5. Anything you email to [email protected] or from that email address is BCC'ed to John Baumgartner. Yes, that's right. Sandra McCarthy isn't even the real owner of OC Modeling. She is nothing more than a patsy for JC, who is the real president.

Okay Sandra, since you like to have fun getting the attention of the police: Two can play that game. This blog has a lot of loyal readers, and they are growing every day.

Let's have a little bit of fun.

If anyone would like to report an illegal prostitution ring run in Chatsworth California this is the address of the offices:

OC Modeling Los Angeles Main Office:
22024 Lassen Street
Suite 114
Chatsworth, Ca. 91311
(818) 626-9550

Here are some links to law enforcement would take an interest in Sandra McCarthy's prostitution empire:

Chatsworth Police Department
810 G I Maddox Pkwy,
Chatsworth, GA 30705
Phone:(706) 695-9667

Los Angeles County resources:

Human Trafficking Section

Gaming, Bookmaking, Pornography, Prostitution
251 E. 6th St, Rm 332
Los Angeles, CA. 90014


Kelly Mulldorfer
Detective Support and Vice Division
Email: [email protected]

Vice Division (VD) is responsible for collecting, recording, maintaining, and disseminating intelligence data a major organized criminal enterprise within and affecting the City of Los Angeles. The Vice section concentrates on the enforcement of vice activities such as gaming, bookmaking, pornography, and prostitution. –

I've thought about it, but I have never reported any of Sandra McCarthy's illegal activities to the police. I don't believe in getting law-enforcement involved with anything. My new daily goal is to make her spend her life inside the confines of a State penitentiary.

In the event, the police are paid off, which I have often believed that they are. With companies like LADirect and Oc Modeling flagrantly operating out in the open for so many years you'd think they would've eventually gotten the attention of law enforcement? You never know, we might get lucky, this is an election year. The office located within proximity to public schools and other areas that wouldn't want this kind of activity.

If the are police paid off, I would happily pass the baton over to the criminals.

Prostitution is a cash business. Though it has been some years since I was in that office, Sandra would always stash the cash in the file cabinets on the left side of the main room. Of course, that was three years ago. Surely, she can't be stupid enough to be still stashing the cash in a rental office with minimal or no security, but this is Sandra McCarthy we are talking about. If no money can be found there, Your next best bet would be to jack one of the model houses or catch one of their employees in the parking lot when they usually leave the office between 8 PM and 11 PM. She perjured herself in court, saying, “Jason Quinlan has a gun and is dangerous.” Which couldn't be further from the truth, as I've stated in previous blogs I am an advocate of gun control. So I'm assuming she isn't packing, but I can't confirm that.

I am not going to cross the line and post personal information, but if the police don't want to handle it, use Search anybody by name, e-mail address, phone number, online username or even friends in your address book and instantly return lots of info.

In case you haven't noticed, this blog was originally supposed to be a re-accounting of my glory days. I haven't even gotten to the good stuff like why I have Jeff Hanneman's guitar, the incident with Oliver Stone, and how I tried to shut the ocean off.

I have only been able to post a few of those stories from the 200-page manuscript I already have written, and have opted to use this blog as a platform to dish out massive bowls of truth-soup against my enemies.

I am homeless, have a pinched nerve which makes it likely I can't play guitar ever again without surgery I cannot afford.

I have chosen to go out with guns blazing. No justice, no peace, no quarter from my enemies.

In case you haven't noticed: I don't give a fuck about anything.

I'm not drinking to excess or on drugs.

That makes me more of a threat and hopefully a better writer.

Thank you for your time.

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of Mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

jason quinlan paypal


Sandra McCarthy and OC Modeling: Who Will Pimp Your Bitches Now?

Sandra McCarthy / OC Modeling: Who Will Pimp Your Bitches Now?

Again, I don't mean to keep rehashing the same bullshit, but sometimes this blog writes itself. I caught this today in my Facebook feed a blog.

Dave From The Luxury Companion Gets 5 to 10 Year Sentence

For those of you who are unfamiliar with porn politics, “Dave from the Luxury Companion” is the quintessential “El Chapo” of pimping out porno bitches for illegal prostitution. If the Prince of Dubai wanted to order up the latest “it girl” in porn: Who is the guy to call? Want to obtain some hookers anywhere across state lines or internationally? Who did Sandra McCarthy go to when her rinky-dink porno agency couldn't make ends meet booking legitimate work?

That's right…

Dwight Cunningham (aka “Dave From The Luxury Companion”) and is an accomplice “Karen”!

Look, I am not some preachy Christian do-gooder motherfucker. I have no problem profiting from crime, in fact, that will be the subject of an upcoming blog post. From my late teens to my mid-20s, I openly admit I supplemented my income selling drugs.

That's my problem, I'm honest, even to a fault. I play in a “sex, drugs, and poop” comedy metal band.

I get it. It makes me an easy mark.

As for prostitution, I have no problem with it. I think it should be legal. Where I do take issue is when the company that I am holding the bond for is pimping out bitches behind my back, and not reaping the monetary rewards. That's right, if I am unknowingly be taking part in a Rico-sized prostitution ring I should at least be receiving some of the proceeds?


Even though I was a partner in OC Modeling, one of the main reasons Sandra never wanted me at the office is because she would be forced to break bread and give up a some of that sweet tax-free money they have coming through their greedy hands.

And Sandra McCarthy likes to say, “that Jason Quinlan never held the bond for OC Modeling” and I would like to state on equivocally Sandra McCarthy is full of shit.

Most importantly, to keep the bond for a talent agency it is required that you own property in the state of California. John Baumgartner was a resident of Las Vegas Nevada. Sandra didn't own ANY property and as far as I know still doesn't.

How is OCModeling “bonded” anyway?


What would've happened if Sandra had gotten caught running her her illegal prostitution ring in the two years I held the bond? I would have been arrested and forfeited my two point two million dollar house, which wound up happening anyways because of you greedy motherfuckers.

And you know what's worse?

1. At the time I wasn't aware of I was at the head of a massive prostitution ring, but I suspected it.

2. I never received any profit from OCModeling's illegal activities.

I knew it was happening. Do you know how I know? On several occasions, I sent my friends up (gratis “pimp fees”) with hookers from OCM!

I know, (Jay) stop playing the victim and blaming everyone else: You are a drug addict!

Spare me the lecture.

If any of you OC Modeling, ATM LA, or LA Direct fuck-wads want to see a drug addict or complete slimeball you need not do more look in the fucking mirror!

I know you think I've lost my voice in the industry just because you had me banned from GFY for exposing Pornstar Platinum's creative accounting practices. People still look at my Twitter and Facebook. It won't take long before this post is all over the internet.

And in closing, I gave the better part of a decade of my life to ensure you assholes success. Sandra and Nick Melillo, you didn't put down a fucking dime to ride the coattails and then had the unmitigated gall to sue me over a wet napkin! Make no mistake about it that's exactly what you fucking did. I take your confidentiality agreement and fart in your general direction.

Just like you don't give a fuck about throwing me under the bus because I was some kind of “liability”. For Christ sakes, we are talking about the fucking porn industry!

PS: I've read the blog comments and the GFY threads. I need to stop harping on this and move on with my life because karma will get you in the end.

I'm fueling karma with a nutritious bowl of truth soup, so it doesn't take longer than the Nazi hunters to find Adolf Eichmann hiding in Argentina.

Here's to the decimation of your pathetic asses!

It's not like I make money writing this. I have two sneak into
Starbucks to get WiFi! Donations are always appreciated!

jason quinlan paypal


Fact: Charlie Sheen Has HIV!

don't tell me how to ruin my life

Fact: Charlie Sheen Has HIV!

This story has haunted my conscience for approximately four years. If this news and the presidential election were the same day: I'm not sure which story would get more coverage! Temporarily, due to the tragic terror attack in Paris, Charlie Sheen dodged the media's bullet, but the charade is coming to an end…

Not only does he have HIV — he's knowingly slept with hundreds of women while fully cognizant of his HIV+ status.

How do I know? Let me explain…

For purposes of this story, I am NOT using real names. The two women affected by Charlie’s megalomania have moved on with their lives and are mothers. Girl #1 was a procurer of “talent” for Mr. Sheen and a dear friend. Girl #2 was an up-and-coming porn star, who suddenly disappeared.

charlie sheen hiv

I used to work in the adult business. It was no secret Charlie has a taste for porn girls. These events transpired during height Charlie Sheen delusion: his departure from Two and a Half Man, the “winning,” and erratic TV interviews.

Charlie was America's anti-hero and very much “A-List” in his right.


jason quinlan taylor tilden at the rainbow in Los angeles 2


About six years ago, I met Girl #1 at The Rainbow Bar in LA.


I knew she was a porn star, but she had a butch-dyke girlfriend. At first, I assumed she was a full-on lesbian and didn’t have an interest in guys outside of “work.” She was attractive, hilarious, fun and smart. She also had the strong pimp hand with the girls. We’d go to clubs in Hollywood together; I would say, “Go round up ten girls. I want them naked in my hot tub. I’ll give you 50$ a head!” Nine times out of ten she would succeed and never asked for the money. Like says, “Guys don't have girls for friends. They just have girls they haven't fucked — YET!” There is a lot of truth to that joke. After two years, we started banging. We didn't ever “date” — just were fuck-buddies.

She had a girlfriend who’d been going over to Charlie's house to party for years. One night, she was introduced to him at dinner, and it wasn't long before she became Charlie’s paid wing-woman — bringing girls over his house and banging him for pay. The situation went on for over six months, yet we never went over two weeks without crossing paths. Suddenly, for three or four months, she went completely off the radar — her phone number changed, Facebook deleted — everything. One night, I got a call from a blocked number. It was her: “Hey, I’m in Hollywood, let's go have drinks.”

jason quinlan taylor tilden at the rainbow in Los angeles 231

When we met, she looked strung-out; she hadn’t been taking care of herself. She always had a problem with meth, but you I could see she’d been going harder than normal. I don’t judge. I like to tell people, “I tried meth once: From 1992 to 1999. It was a one long-ass day.” We went out, got hammered and then back to her apartment. She broke out a meth pipe immediately. I did a couple of hits, remembered why I quit and stuck to the beer while she puffed away. I asked if she was still going to Charlie's. She responded, “Not for months” and went on to say they weren’t “talking.” I asked what happened. She explained, “I had brought this girl over to his house he requested for a threesome. After the girl had left, I was laying in bed with him, and he asked (very nonchalantly) if I could go to the bathroom and get me. I thought he was making some sick joke. I’d been having unprotected sex with him almost year along with 50 other girls at the minimum.”

She described how she went into the bathroom and there was the HIV cocktail with his name on the prescriptions. So she took a picture of the bottles before bringing him his pills. I listened in disbelief. I said, “Whoa hang on! Back up. Are you serious?” She said, “Yes.” Then she broke down and explained that’s why she disappeared on a Belushi-sized bender — not knowing how to cope and too scared to get tested. I asked, “What she was going to do about it?”

jason quinlan taylor tilden at the rainbow in Los angeles 2

I was revolted, and a bit scared because I'd been having sex with her too. I told her, “I have a friend who knows people. If Charlie's is going to pull shit like this, you may as well cash in, because it's only a matter of time some other girl does.” So, I called up my buddy. It was 4 AM, so left a message, “I have the biggest story you will ever be the part. You need to contact me ASAP.” Ten minutes later, my phone rings, twenty minutes later he's at her apartment in a bathrobe. I was sobering up, but she kept smoking and getting pretty spun. I told her to tell him exactly what she’d just said to me. When he heard, his jaw dropped. I asked, “How much is a story like this would be worth?” He replied, “Let me go talk to some people and I will come back at noon.” I got few hours sleep, and he was back at 12 sharp.

He said, “Look, TMZ would probably pay a million for a story like this, but that's taking the short money: To cash in — the money is in NOT making the story come out.” He explained he had a lawyer, who had sued Charlie Sheen many times over similar issues (like giving a girl herpes). By this time, Girl #1 still hadn’t slept and was high. When the lawyer called, I talked to him for her. He suggested meeting for dinner in a couple of days. With the state Girl #, one had deteriorated into; I didn't feel like she had days to spare. We needed to handle this now! She was afraid of Charlie. I told her to get her stuff and come to my house.6 PM that night The Lawyer came by, and she still hadn't slept and was barely completing sentences, so I explained the situation. I told her to show him her phone with the pictures and text messages. He took a look and said I would go buy another iPhone right now if he can keep this one, then went into a “canned personal injury lawyer” monolog how important it was to make sure she was “OK.” He insisted she get tested, probably hoping she was HIV+ so that the settlement would be higher. The next day, we both went to get HIV tests; both were (thankfully) negative. The Lawyer could see Girl #1 was not in the best condition. He asked if I'd protect his investment until he could get her into a, so she stayed with me.

xxxjay 2005


Girl #1


The next month would be a shit-show. Her hardcore methamphetamine addiction caused dramatic mood swings, paranoia, and erratic behavior. I'm a weed guy, but she was “Breaking Bad” — so it got ugly. Before they had a bed open at the rehab clinic, we were about to kill each other. The lawyer, sensing the impending victory, put up his own money for a $30,000 per month rehab in Malibu. She could get a visitor every Sunday, so I'd go and check on her. She seemed to be recovering quite well, looking better, and happy to be sober.Let's get to Girl #2. She had stayed with me a while when she fist came to LA, and I also had sex with her. She was also in Charlie’s crew of party girls, before Girl #1’s tenure. Though good sources, I heard the reason she disappeared was that she turned up and pregnant (possibly with Charlie's baby). It’s rumored Charlie set her up with a nice chunk of cash ($25 million, although I can't confirm it) to move back to Tennessee and remain silent. She did exactly that. To this day, not many have spoken to her. Rumor has it; she'd become a mother to another child after moving to Tennessee and is doing well.


Girl #2


Girl #1 got out of rehab and transferred to a beautiful quiet suburb in Calabasas, still on the lawyer's time. When negotiations finally ended, the settlement came to $10 million with the payments structured across five years to ensure silence. It looked like Girl #1 was going to turn her life around. She had distanced herself from the temptations of Hollywood porn scene, was staying in NA meetings and seemed happy. We'd hang out a couple of days a week, go to the beach, chill and watch movies. It was happy, but the brief period. One problem was, as fast as she was getting the money she was spending it. I tried to tell she needed to slow her roll and stretch the money out, but she didn't listen.

After a while, I heard from her less often; I guess she got back into meth.

However, I do feel guilty because it was business as usual at the Sheen residence and people’s health were at stake. Who knows how many women were exposed to HIV?! How can you be such a sociopath to put people’s health at risk and boast that you’re “winning”? I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror. Being a tuberculosis survivor myself, I knew there's a doctor who dropped the ball by failing to report his status to the health department. When a new case of HIV or TB documented; the health department in California will force the patient to give a list of anyone they might have exposed and will track down them down for testing to prevent a further outbreak. I know: Because I’ve been there!

So many years have passed; I even began to wonder when this story would surface or was it even true? Surely, someone would have come forward by now? That was until the morning of November 13th, 2015 when I read this headline in the Daily Mail “EXCLUSIVE: Porn star who had sex with Hollywood actor secretly battling HIV fears epidemic as she reveals he has slept with at least 50 ‘adult actresses' AND transsexuals“! I knew damn well they weren't referring to Wilford Brimley! This story was the biggest news story in the world for a few hours until the Paris Attacks shifted the news coverage away. Mr. Sheen, serendipitously, dodged a bullet — unlike some unfortunate souls in Paris! The attacks just put a finger in the dam of truth! When the levee breaks, everyone will see how much of a loser America's biggest “winner” really is!

“Denial” isn't just a river in Egypt — Mr. Sheen.

The game is up.

Fact: Charlie Sheen Has HIV!



Where Is Donny Long? (Donald Carlos Seoane) – PornWikiLeaks

Donald Carlos Seoane Your Negative SEO Really Sucks

I've got to hand it to you Donny (Donald Carlos Seoane), your negative SEO attack had more effect than I thought. I had to spend a lot of time today getting it sorted.

Now I have control over 40% of the front page of Google for your real name, and 50% if you count google images. If you think I am not going to have some fun Photoshopping pictures of you leading the gay pride parade or making out with Freddie Mercury : “Denial” is not just a river in Egypt, my friend.

donny long on google


If anyone wants to add thier throughts to the Twitter moment…


Rweet and share the love.

Have fun with it!

Donald Carlos Seoane aka Donny Long of PornWikiLeals – Message For You!

Message For You! – Donald Carlos Seoane aka Donny Long you okay of PornWikiLeals

It looks like Donny Long (aka Mr. PornWikiLeaks) doesn't like having his information on the Internet? I've been spending a shit load of time unfucking this hacking that you are likely responsible.

As I was going through my search console, I saw you reported this page because it contains personal information.

Here is that video you tried to delete. I have plenty more copies.

VVV                                                                                                            VVV

I wouldn't even waste time taking it down; it will go right back up.

Snitch, ass bitch.

Being put on blast on the Internet isn't fun, is it?

The only way you'll stay in America's in a coffin.

<end rant>




Report Edward Przydzial aka (Lawson J Denning) To The LAPD If Anything Happens To Me

Hello Jay,

NationalNet has received the following DMCA complaint.  Please remove the offending material ASAP and advise when completed so we can call this resolved.

Abuse Team


———- Forwarded message ———-
From: edwardprzydzial<[email protected]>
Date: Mon, Jun 19, 2017 at 9:38 AM
Subject: Fwd: [WordPress #3268259]: dmca removal notice
To: [email protected], [email protected]

Takedown Notice Pursuant to the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998
To Whom It May Concern,
This is a notice in accordance with the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998 (DMCA) requesting that you immediately cease to provide access to copyrighted material. I wish to report an instance of Copyright Infringement, whereby the infringing material appears on a website for which you are the host.
1.The infringing material, which I contend belongs to me, is the following:
my photos and name-title
2.The original material is located on my website at the following URLs:
3.The infringing material is located at the following URLs:
4.My contact information is:
Name: edward przydzial Mailing address: ecpi box 3919 hollywood, ca. 90078 Telephone number: 323.632.4512 E-mail address: [email protected]
5.I have a good faith belief that the use of the described material in the manner complained of is not authorized by the copyright owner, its agent, or by operation of law.
6.The information in this notice is accurate, and I am either the copyright owner or I am authorized to act on behalf of the copyright owner.
I declare under the perjury laws of the United States of America that this notification is true and correct.
Signed: edward przydzial Date: 2017-06-19
———- Forwarded message ———-
From: Emilia L. –<[email protected]>
Date: Mon, Jun 19, 2017 at 2:54 PM
Subject: [WordPress #3268259]: dmca removal notice
To: [email protected]Hi there,> The infringing material is located at the following URLs:
> //'m sorry, but the web site that you have reported is not hosted at As such, we are unable to provide any direct assistance in this manner.The fact that the site was built using WordPress, or may mention ‘Powered by WordPress' (or something similar) simply means it is using the software, which may be downloaded and installed on any web host. Please refer to for the further differences between and you need assistance in determining a web site's host, we recommend reviewing the following articles:

Thank you for your report, and we're sorry we couldn't help.

Emilia L. | Community Guardian |





Editors note I did use Grammarly to make this more readable. The content is 100% unaltered otherwise.

Try it free, you will wonder how you wrote without it!<br/ >Best Plagiarism Checker & Proofreader


If anything happens to me here is the nearest police station. I am being stalked.

1358 N Wilcox Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90028



If anyone has info on this Edward Przydzial aka (Lawson J Denning) feel free to contact me:



About My Friend Mr. Jeff Hannemen

Three Years Ago Today: The Highlight of My Musical “Career”

I'm sticking with the Heinekens, but doing a few shots here and there.
– Jeff Hanneman

I did not have plans to add this post until I saw a memory from 3 years ago pop up in my Facebook feed. It was a scant three years ago when my friend, the better guitar player in Slayer, and notorious recluse Mr. Jeff Hanneman introduced Dick Delicious and the Tasty Testicles add a show in Spartanburg, South Carolina.

At the beach with Jeff Hannemen don't tell me how to ruin my life
As I mentioned in other posts, some of the craziest stories still sitting in a Microsoft Word document. I have a lot of almost unbelievable stories involving Jeff, including but not limited to handing him his guitar (later became my guitar) right before he walked on stage at the Big 4 in Indio California (his last performance with Slayer.)

I shot this video of Jeff Hannemen's final performance in Indio California
Because of my utmost respect for the man both as a human being and a personal hero, I have been holding these tales back (unlike Sebastian Bach or Charlie Sheen). There are a lot of people in heavy metal that claim to be “the real deal, ” but Jeff was true to the core.

There will be more about Mr. Hannemen in future posts.

Until we are again reunited…somewhere “South of Heaven.”

At the rate I'm going, it won't be long.


Grammarly Writing Support

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

jason quinlan paypal

Don’t Me How to Ruin My Online Privacy!

Do You Think This Video Might Have Landed Me on a Terrorist Watchlist?

Just checking in from another lonely night stranded in the Mexican Ghetto.

Last week somebody stole my mountain bike.

No that isn't a punchline to a joke!

I figured while I had already sunk to this level of depravity, I might as well get myself put on the terrorist watchlist for the second time. Now that I think about it, the first round of security antics would be a great topic for the next chapter.

Meanwhile, or somebody turned me on to the Lightbox Firefox Plugin. It allows you to see every website that is monitoring your activity in real time and it's pretty scary.

Check out the video above, and you will see how many eyeballs I had on me just from surfing Facebook and Google. Then I escalated to 12 minutes of surfing jihadist, FBI, ISIS, and NSA websites and you can see the eyeballs multiply exponentially.

I find it pretty scary in 12 minutes I caught the attention of both the US Government and Radical Islam.

Since we are on the subject, even as broke as I am, there was no way I could pass up this deal. Do you have a private VPN for only $2.45 a month and is a pretty impressive thing.

I don't think they are holding this deal for much longer so get in while you can….

pure vpn ad 2017Peace 2017,