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.

SOFTWARE:

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.

MOVIES:

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

MUSIC:

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!

PORN:

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:

YOU!

 

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.

 

 

 

 

∅ To NOT DOWNLOAD AND SHARE PORN! ∅

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?

 

NOBODY'S SALES ARE WHAT THEY WERE 4 YEARS AGO!

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.

JQ

On Reddit WTF:

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

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2015: The Worst Year of My Life

jc and xxxjay occash
2015: The Worst Year of My Life

You might think I've lived a charmed life. Reality couldn't be further from the truth. I've been in prison at the hands of crooked police, almost killed by tuberculosis, a screwed by my former business partners, whom without me they would not exist.

But nothing could be worse than 2015!!

Hands down, the worst year of my life.

Before anybody gets their panties in a bunch and wants to call lawyers and sue.

Here is exactly what I'm worth. The Apple stocks are long gone, and I think I have a bit of change on my dresser. I'm not going to take this blog down — so, fuck you in advance!

A screen shot of check fraud

My net worth, but let's start this year where it all began…

 

Jason Quinlan New Year's Eve 2015

Exactly one year ago, I went to the Rainbow to celebrate New Year's Eve with the singer from my band. I got drugged. So did his girlfriend. I distinctly remember asking the bartender for my jacket and keys to get to my house shortly after midnight because I didn't feel right. She was mad because I wasn't staying until the end of her shift, so I wound up hanging around until almost murdered by some Hell's Angel. I couldn't get a cab on Sunset looking like I'd been shot, so I walked over 10 miles to Studio City through the back roads.

I wish I had written this chronologically because about three years ago I sustained a more severe head injury. I was at Chris and Ally Haze's pool/porn party with my ex-girlfriend. It was way the hell out in Canyon Country. Around 8 o'clock we wanted to leave, mostly because they had run out of alcohol and we were bored.

My girl took me into the garage, I didn't know why, but I guess she wanted to have some fun. Unbeknownst to me, she had locked the door, and Chris Hayes (who is a giant steroid out motherfucker) busted it down and blindsided me with a punch to the jaw. The punch wasn't what did the real damage. I split my head open and leaked my brains all over his garage floor. After that I don't remember anything, next to that, I woke up in the hospital in Burbank, and a doctor was telling me to call my immediate family because I was bleeding internally from my brain and had suffered the worst type of stroke possible. In the meantime, Chris Hayes called the police and told them I had run around the party with a pair of scissors trying to cut him.

To make it realistic, he punched a bunch of mirrors, so when the police came, he could show cuts on his hands. I asked several of my “porn people friends” if they could give a statement telling the truth, but none of these spineless motherfuckers would make one. For the record, I don't believe in going to the police for anything. The problem is, he went there first! If you're reading this and thinking I'm talking about you: FUCK YOU: GET AIDS AND DIE.

Looking back, I should have walked to the end of his driveway and called for an ambulance, but somebody gave me a ride home. I suffered permanent front-temporal brain damage, I speak with a stutter ever since. I also got buried in hospital bills. Recently, I noticed alcohol effects me differently. So I don't drink anymore. One of my band mates was at that party, knew what happened, but just decided to stay and have fun with the guy.

Real “bro” move.

Bro.

 

I spent most January trying to recover. It took me a couple of months to finally get back on my feet, so all I did was work. By this time, the pittance my bullshit ass business partners gave me as “severance” was long gone, and I was behind on my house payments.

I put my dream home up for sale. The idiot realtor I hired did an open house that was just supposed to be for other dealers and brokers. I figured he would know everyone there and I wouldn't have to worry about anything. One of the “realtors” went into the drawers in my room and stole $12,000 worth of belongings including a Breitling watch which I loved.

watch

So finally, I figure it's time to try to go out to network and get my business going. I kick anyone's ass at traffic, SEO and marketing. Unfortunately, my old business partners had smeared my name so badly that the only way I could get work was through a few people who still had faith in me, so I worked on projects for far less than I'm worth to prove I wasn't a degenerate. I haven't let a client down yet. I decided to go to the Phoenix Forum to make my “comeback.”

Anthony De Coninck ocmodeling pimp

I ran into two of my former partners and one of my ex-employees (Anthony De Coninck). I didn't say anything to my old business partners; I just ignored them. Anthony and I were still on good terms. I said hi to him, and we went to the bar for drinks. While we were sitting there, I kept noticing Sandra McCarthy keep peeking in the door every five minutes. Eventually, she came in and said he had to go, so I walked out.

As we departed, I stated, “Anthony, you are cool, Sandy you still suck, and Nick Melilo you are a fat fuck.” I was holding a cocktail napkin folded into a paper airplane. I threw it, it landed on my Chuck Taylors and started to walk away.

I was kind of shocked because Nick Melillo was a bit older and out of shape, he got up and said, “Jay, I am going to kick your ass myself.” Even if he hit me, I wouldn't have hit him back. I'm not into elder abuse. It took two seconds to realize how he'd become so emboldened. Before he took two steps toward me, one of their cohorts was lurking behind me, put me in a headlock and dragged me to the ground and Nick Melillo sat on me until security came. Judging by Planks Gravitational Constant, I felt Moby Dick was on top of me. I explained my side of the story; they explained their side and they didn't kick either of us out, they just told us to avoid one other. There was still one more day left, I got to my hotel, decided that rather than deal with those leeches again tomorrow, so I called the airline and left Phoenix on the first available flight.

 

I didn't think about it afterward.

 

The following week was Easter. I am aware that my social media antics are at times erratic, so my family was worried. They wanted me to come home, but they had an agenda. It was a full-on intervention. They wanted me to go to a rehab clinic and get on Thorazine. I don't believe in the whole twelve-step system, to me it's just replacing one bad habit with another. Being an atheist, it doesn't exactly fit into my circle of beliefs. So I managed to convince them that I was alright. I don't know how many times I need to repeat this; I am alright. I don't have substance abuse issues. I only drank socially, but if I started drinking, I kept drinking. I can go months at a time without getting wasted and not even think about it.

 

I don't drink at all now.

 

On Easter Sunday, I was watching the news about a bus wreck outside of Atlanta involving some heavy metal bands. One of the people critically injured was a dear friend Steven “Skully” Shoemaker. Several others died in the crash. I decided to switch my flight from Providence to Atlanta to show support. I wound up staying in Atlanta for over a week. Things were up and down with Stephen's health. He wound up living, but they said he would probably never walk or play guitar again. From what I understand, he will soon be able to do both, and that may be the only bright spot of this blog.

 

Headed Back West

 

I arrived in LA toward the end of April after being gone for nearly a month. Three days after being home, a Sheriff knocks at my door at 4 AM with a Temporary Restraining Order from Sandra McCarthy. At first, I thought someone was playing a joke. It had a court date in a few weeks I had to attend, or it would become permanent. Two or three days passed and the same Sheriff showed up with a second restraining order from Nick Melillo (fat fuck) with another court date in an entirely separate district. The only thing the cop said to me, was “You must have pissed someone off, go back to bed.” A couple more days went by, and I realized what the restraining order was about. I got a letter from Nevada stating they were suing me for $300,000 for violating the terms of some stupid contract written by the same lawyer who was my attorney and their attorney at the same time. Can anyone say conflict of interest? This is all now a matter of public record at the courthouse in downtown Los Angeles or Chatsworth.

nick Melillo porn

I was then forced to hire a high-priced lawyer to defend myself. I went to court a few weeks later and the lawyer I hired wound up sending this other woman to court who wasn't even familiar with my case. Nick Melillo got up in court and lied to the judge and told him that I had “already broken the restraining order” by retweeting something someone else had written about her. The judge asked me if I had attempted to contact her and I said “no,” which was an honest answer. Then Nick holds up a piece of paper with my tweet on it, and the judge is an older guy who doesn't understand social media and and threatened it to throw me in jail for a week for contempt of court.

A week later I go downtown and get my case continued with Sandy McCarthy.

Finally, I have my day in court in Chatsworth with Sandy and the original judge isn't there. I was skeptical of my lawyer that first, but now was seeing that she was pretty good, she said “This is a much safer judge them the original Judge and your case should go much better.” We sit there in court almost all day and just as they're getting to my case the judge closes the court sessions. So again, my case gets continued.

A few weeks later I'm back downtown with that fat, lecherous tranny fucking asshole Nick Melillo. He pulls out his “evidence” of the “threats” I had made against him, the judge takes a look at it and tells him “This sounds like you typed this up yourself” and dismisses the case. He then complained about things I said on Facebook or Twitter, but the Supreme Court had just passed a ruling where things on social media cannot be used against you in a criminal trial. So he gets laughed out of court.

 

One down, one to go.

 

This whole time I am trying to run my business and also playing in a band. The guys are fully aware this bullshit is sucking all of my money and time. I never missed band practice, when it came to paying rent I usually paid for half the group (sometimes all), I wrote all the material, paid the merch, maintained the website, Facebook page and did almost everything.

By this time, It's the end of August, and all of the stress from these hearings and lawsuits has killed my summer. I didn't have one barbecue, go to the beach, or do anything — I was under so much stress I wanted to kill myself!

Now comes the third showdown with Sandy McCarthy in Chatsworth. She brought that fucking lecherous Nick Melillo to come in and testify against me even though he already lost his case in Los Angeles; I still had to go through the whole thing again. This judge was no fan of me either. One of the highlights of this trial, and just so you know this is all a matter of public record you can go down to Chatsworth Courthouse and retrieve this yourself if you think I'm bullshitting. My lawyer who I now had the utmost faith in, cross-examines Nick she asks him, “What did Mr. Quinlan say to you that made you feel threatened?” and he responded (uh-huh) “He said I'm going to kill you and your whole family.” Then she gets the copy of the police report and asks, “When you made this story the next day back in April these are the facts the best you can remember them am I correct?” He responded “yes”. So she then asked Nick why she doesn't see that on the report. He doesn't know what to say, so she responds, “Are you telling me, Mr. Melillo your memory has improved in the last five months?”

 

Coup De Grâce!

 

She got Anthony, who I am sure she threatened with his job, to testify against me. He more or less, stuck to the facts, and by this time, it was already getting to be noon, and my lawyer had an appointment at a nearby courthouse, and she asked if the trial could resume at 2 o'clock.

She says I can go with her to the other courthouse and we were discussing the case. I asked, “How do you think it's going?” She says, “Generally I don't put my clients on the stand, but I am going to ask the judge if he feels inclined to grant the restraining order if he does I want you to get on the stand, if not you won't.

Sandra McCarthy pulled out all the stops, and when she gets up on the stand, someone needs to get that cunt a copy of the Webster's Dictionary because she has no idea what the word “perjury” means. She flat out lied, embellished and fabricated most of her testimony. Then {Ex-Business Partner One} goes into an extended monolog about what a dangerous, scary, gun-toting thug I am. I'm a total pacifist. I don't even know how to load or fire a gun, much less own one.

She gets done with her song and dance, and my attorney asks the judge if he feels inclined to grant the restraining order, if so, she would like me to take the stand and if not we could just let it rest. The judge replied, “I want your client to take the stand.” I was expecting it.

My attorney asked me a few questions, and unlike Nick, I stuck to the facts. Sandra McCarthy cross-examines me showing the judge pictures from almost a decade ago that she had trawled off my Facebook even though I have her blocked. I don't know who should be filing a restraining order on who by now. My attorney had to remind did judge that The Supreme Court had just made a ruling about social media. The judge was unaware of this. He had to take a recess and goes back into his chambers to read the law.

As soon as he returns, Sandra continues her closing statements tirade and pulling out various pieces of social media. Finally, the judge says, “the social media evidence is inadmissible, the communication must be direct, via mail, email or fax,” but that does not stop her, and she just continues screaming away. Finally, my attorney gets to make her closing statement which she stated very eloquently that I was not a threat and there was also a significant financial reason behind these restraining orders. As my lawyers talking in mid sentence, the judge says, “I am not going to grant this injunction, ” and {Ex-Business Partner One} breaks into tears, “But Your Honor” to which he replied, “I have ruled.”

Let's sum up these restraining orders: They felt threatened by a cocktail napkin that landed on my shoes. They referred to it as “assault with a heavy object”.

 

Fucking retards.

 

Now, I've won both of the restraining order cases, but I still have to face the $350,000 lawsuit which is coming out of the state of Nevada. I asked for a recommendation, and I got referred to a lawyer who wants $75,000 just to take my case.

Feeling emboldened, I sent an email to their attorney and told him that I had just won both restraining order cases. I bluffed and said I had enough money to fight the case in Nevada, but I wouldn't have a dime. I extended an olive branch and offered to pay for his legal fees to drop the case and agreed not to take {Ex-Business Partner One} and {Ex-Business Partner Two} to court to recoup my expenses. After negotiation, everyone agrees. I had to send their lawyer a shitload more money for his legal fees.

 

Another Deal With The Devil

 

October, 8th 2013 was the day Google started unrolling the Penguin update, which I expected and prepared. Our websites hit an all-time high in search engine traffic. It was also the same day my idiot business partners stabbed me in the back and forced me out.

 

Chris Stewart atlanta occash

 

As soon as word got out that I was a free agent I was bombarded with offers. One was from an ex-employee Chris Stewart I had given his first job too, and he embezzled $50,000. To be honest, after what I just been through I couldn't blame him. He said he was sorry about the way things went down and he had the blueprint to make money he was just having trouble doing it himself. It was another adult venture, which I didn't want to do, but I could see the potential for profit. I worked on the project for six months, and it generated $300,000 which was supposed to split 50-50. Every time I would ask for the money I would get the runaround. Then one day he just cut off all my access to everything related to our company and me never got a dime. In 2014 I filed a lawsuit against him and he counter-sued me. After what I'd just been through we both opted to settle out of court. Again, I was forking over around ten grand in attorneys fees.

 

If that motherfucker died tomorrow, I would gladly piss on his grave.

Fucking piece of shit.

 

Meanwhile, my house isn't selling, any money to pay the mortgage is all been going into lawyers and fighting stupid on frivolous lawsuits. I'm about a year behind on paying my mortgage by September.

September 11, which is my birthday. My band was playing the next night, so we were supposed to rehearse. I still had my amps at my house, so I braved the 4 o'clock LA traffic to drive them up to the valley. Then I got a call from the guys, and they were out at a bar that wasn't too far from where I lived to drink. I drove all the way back, took a uber to the bar, and we started day-drinking. I figured I might as well have some fun after everything I've been through, plus it's my birthday, right?

 

circle of violence band

We drank in Studio City for three or four hours, bought some beer, go to the practice room to drink, and then just look at our guitars and those guys decide they want to go to the local bar around the corner. I always hated this bar because every night there would be some drama. Our drummer, in particular, always had problems with different people there. So we get to the bar at about 8 o'clock, and by this time I'm pretty wasted, and we do a bunch more shots. To be honest, that's the last thing I can remember before I blacked out because I hadn't eaten all day.

Next thing I remember, I wake up in the trunk of a car in Chatsworth when the door lifts, the morning sun shines in, and get dumped out on the ground in a schoolyard parking lot. I thought they were bringing me to that car park to kill me, which I was all right with, but some old couple walked by with the dog and scared them off.

My phone is dead, so I've no idea where I am, so I started walking in what I thought was the right direction. Finally, after walking for about 20 miles, I go into Albertsons and ask if I can use the payphone to call a cab.

I get to my house, and some girl that is they're trying to figure out what happened to me starts chewing me out about how I've gotten the rest of my band beaten up. I told her I've no idea and then she sends me these pictures of those guys all beat up, and she said it was my fault because I had made some jokes about Armenians. That or might not be true. I don't know I don't remember. I have brain damage, hadn't eaten, and blacked out. If that's what happened, then I'm sorry. What nobody ever brought up was our drummer had problems with that same group of people before. I find it strange that I supposedly started the fight, yet I didn't have a scratch.

 

That doesn't make sense.

 

We were supposed to play the next night, and when it comes to music — I'm a trooper. I tried to get a hold of them, but the next thing I know I'm looking at pictures of them playing on stage without me on Facebook.

Shredding for some crowd - circle of violence jason quinlan

I won't give the band any exposure by mentioning their name. I was kicked out. Despite the fact, that band wouldn't be doing jack shit if it hadn't been for me. When I join the group they had been around for five years or maybe more and they knew how to play five songs. When I joined the band I, doubled the amount of material and was the sole songwriter, I developed and maintained their website, they're social media, I paid the rent on our rehearsal room all the time because they “didn't have any money.” I also paid for all of their merch, CDS T-shirts, a good percentage of the recording budget even though I was struggling financially. They always made jokes about my age; I think the band just wanted to get rid of me, even though I have more talent in my pinky than the group combined. They just wanted to put old horse out to pasture, but not before they had sucked me dry of everything they could take.

After a couple of days, I keep getting harassing messages from the singer talking about how I had made him miss a thousand dollars worth of work. I finally got sick of it and just PayPaled him the money even though I had $1040 and my fucking account. It was funny; he never had any money when it came time to pay rent on the rehearsal room, but all of a sudden I cost him 1000$! The singer is the same asshole who stayed at the party and hung out the night I had almost died three years ago.

 

Some “bro” right?

 

I felt like those guys were my good friends and “brothers”. I know now otherwise they're just like everyone else in this stupid fucking town. People just use you for all your worth in them once they've taken all they can they scatter like water bugs. I de-friended every single member of that band on Facebook and blocked their phone numbers, and they're dead to me.

Since September 11, I haven't left the house at all. I just tried to stay busy at my work which I'm also becoming increasingly frustrated. I'm on the verge of giving up. I deliver excellent results, but nobody wants to pay me what I'm worth, in part, because all of my stupid ex-fucking business partners did so much to damage my reputation.

In November, I developed the severe flu which took me out of commission until a few weeks ago. The year closed up, with the death of Lemmy.

It is now 11:42 PM on New Year's Eve, I'm sitting here alone, as all of my so-called “friends' haven't shown their face in months. The only time anyone gets in touch with me is if they think I can be useful to them. My house is in foreclosure, the holidays stalled the process a bit, but tomorrow I expect it to kick into overdrive.

There is nothing positive in my future. At this point, I don't feel like living. I'm going to finish writing my memoirs; I'm going to finally learn how to use a gun and put a bullet through my head.

JQ