John Henry Packs It In?

[Scott Oaf - (I'm really Chudnozzle)]

I hope he finds some peace that doesn't involve batshit claims. There's
still no sign of evidence or retractions. There are a few baseless
parting shots however, so this is saved off. As he's a proven and
admitted liar, take it all with a grain of salt.

I'm sure others will save it off, thus the URL below is supplied while
it's accessible. I'd suggest making a copy just in case.


https://www.facebook.com/JohnHenryUS/posts/2110840652310847
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John Henry -

After careful consideration, I'm shutting everything down.

It's become clear that "they" - a loose collection of psychos ranging
from a deranged stalker in Georgia who's been following me around for
over twenty years to the latest and greatest dipshit "troll" whose
attention is drawn to me by seeing some other assholes hassling my page,
and all the so-called "liberal" and "progressive" page owners in between
- have a far greater capacity to attack me than I can put together to
defend myself or even mitigate the damage they've been doing to my
reputation by publishing all kinds of lies and nonsense about me all over
the 'net for a decade and more.

My name and reputation are completely ruined and are entirely
irrecoverable. It would take millions of dollars to make all this junk go
away, and at least several months, and even then you'd never get it all
and it would just come right back as soon as it went away.

I've lost absolutely everything I own except what's sitting in front of
me and a duffle bag with a few t-shirts and a pair of jeans so old I
can't see a pretty girl without taking the chance of ripping the crotch
out of them. The rest of what I was able to dig out of the dumpster is in
storage. If that bill's not paid by the end of the day tomorrow, the rest
of my stuff - what's left of my drums, my guitar stands, and the other
stuff I was able to get out of the dumpsters - will be lost as well, and
if I can't get five bucks for some food I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna get
forty to pay my storage bill. So all that's gone too.

Which means I've lost EVERYTHING except a battered, broken desktop, one
monitor, and a few clothes. I don't even have a pair of socks of my own
except the ones I was wearing. Everything I didn't already lose - my
little handi-cam that I bought back in '11, the stuff I mentioned above -
will be gone forever at the end of the day tomorrow.

I'm losing my mind. I'm sorry. I've tried to stand up. I've tried to be
strong in the face of this. I just can't anymore. I'm on the constant
verge of a complete sobbing breakdown. I literally have to "man up" every
few minutes to stop from just dropping into a ball and crying
uncontrollably until the men in white coats show up to take me to my
nice, soft new room. I've tried to fight, and I have fought all my life,
and I've done a damned lot of good for a damned lot of people. I wish I
could keep going. I wish I had the energy left to keep fighting.

But I don't. I just don't anymore. I can't manage to get along well
enough to even GET a job anymore, let alone keep one for more than five
minutes. I can't beg, borrow, or steal the romantic or sexual attention
of any female I'm attracted to. I can't even convince someone whose life
I saved, someone I opened my home to when I barely had one and fed from
my pocket when I couldn't even feed myself, to not take the first and
fastest excuse possible to turn their back on me and pretend they never
knew me, even though two days before when they needed a ride I was their
best friend and the only one who could be bothered to care whether they
lived or died when they were at their lowest point in their lives.

Old friends, new friends...it all ends up the same. And I have to say,
that's not a reflection on anyone but me. The simple reality is I'm never
going to fit in or get along in this world, ever. I'm not built for it.
My mind is broken too badly to be tolerated by society, polite or
impolite. Whatever good I may have accomplished before my reputation was
destroyed has been negated by the damage I've done trying to save it and
fight back.

There is no longer any way for me to end this game other than homeless,
living on the streets, pushing a shopping cart around and screaming at
the clouds.

And maybe that's all I've ever really been.

I'm sorry. I hope that, for those of you who have been so kind as to try
to help me through the challenges I've been fighting over these last few
years, what I've been able to put into the world that wasn't entirely
wrecked by my self-appointed enemies will continue to have a positive
effect in the world.

But I just can't do it anymore.

This isn't about dying or suicide. I'm too big a pussy to ever do that no
matter how much I think or talk about it, and you're all smart enough to
know it although I thank you for sparing my feelings by not telling me so
to my face.

It's not about giving up, either. I never gave up and I'm not giving up
now.

I'm just beat. There are too many people trying too hard to keep me down,
and no matter how strong I am I can't lift myself up, along with everyone
who needs help, and on top of that continue trying to reach out and
educate and change minds and hearts.

That's not because I'm weak. It's taken ten years and what appears to be
at least tens of thousands of dollars and dozens of people to take me
down, like Gulliver in Lilliput. He wasn't weak or small, he was just
exponentially outnumbered.

As am I.

I can't apologize enough to those of you whose support has kept me going
this long. I'm literally crying as I write this for the shame and pain of
knowing that, no matter how nice you are about it, I've ultimately failed
you, failed to make the big changes happen, failed to inspire faith and
confidence in my abilities and my work and my values.

If I hadn't, there would be a hundred times as many of you wonderful,
beautiful, kind, generous people here as there are, and if that were the
case I wouldn't have lost.

But I did, because no matter how much my stupid ego wants to believe
otherwise, I'm just not worthy of the space I'm trying to occupy.

So I'm winding it down, and maybe in a few weeks when all the cannabis
(thanks to the couple of close local friends who have been kind enough to
hook me up at no cost a few times over the last little bit as things have
deteriorated; I'd probably have died without you) is out of my system I
can get on as a third shift stock boy at [redacted so Dink or some other
asshole like Clay or Desmond or the dozens of their bootlickers and
brownshirts, most of whose names I've never even known and the number of
which even I didn't really grasp until a couple of days ago, doesn't pre-
emptively try to get me fired before I even apply] or something, find
some kind of heavy-duty, legal, mood stabilizer - manufactured by a great
big multinational pharmaceutical corporation so maybe someone in the
ownership class of this country will see I'm trying to be a good boy and
play nice and they'll at least stop trying to push me further down, even
if they don't allow me to ever live like a human being with any dignity
or self-respect again - to keep me zombified and unable to remember what
it felt like to care about anything or anyone but myself, and spend the
rest of my life muddling through and doing the best I can to survive
until I can't do that anymore either, and then at long last I'll be able
to just quietly slip into a back alley somewhere, move out of this shell
and this plane, and see if there's a "next" and what it holds. Drink
beer, watch TV, ignore the world around me, and pretend I'm happy, just
livin' the good old American dream is me, until I quietly fade away
forgotten and unremarked to be buried in an unmarked pauper's grave
somewhere on the Wasatch front, two thousand miles from most of the
people I love.

At least that way I won't compound the pain I've caused so many people I
love by adding my suicide to the list of ways I've hurt them.

I'm sorry, I'm not superman. I'm not Jesus. I'm not even Hulk Hogan, and
I just can't pretend I'm gonna start shaking my arm and catch my falling
hand on that third check just before it hits the mat and the ref calls it
a submission, rise back up as if by miracle, and against all odds pull
out the victory. There will be no "hulking up." There will be no
miraculous comeback. There will be no triumphant victory against
impossible odds. That's why they're impossible.

I've had all the wins I'm going to get. I've had all the love I'm going
to get. I've had all the sex I'm going to get. I've had all the parties,
all the good times, all the hugs, all the self-confidence, all the high
spots I'm ever going to get. And honestly, I've had more of all of those
than most people could ever hope to dream of, so I really shouldn't be
bitching now that my life has become a blasted wasteland of stalkers,
psychos, and surreality. I had a damn fine run long before there ever was
an internet, and I did all right for a while after, too.

It's all downhill from here, and I'm already at the bottom, and I just
can't anymore.

I'm sorry.

I just can't. Nobody can. It's like I'm trying to defend my saltbox home
with a megaphone and spitballs against an invading army equipped with
tons of the most sophisticated weapons you can buy.

If anyone who knows her ever sees Crystal again (and if you have to ask
"Crystal who?" you aren't someone who knows her), tell her I really did
love her - as a person, not a potential sex partner, that was never gonna
happen and I never thought it would - and I'm sorry I wasn't able to do
more to help her. I'm sorry I wasn't worthy of - or even smart enough to
understand - what she was trying to give me. Let her know it's not her
fault too, just like I'm letting you know it's not yours, okay? It's not.
You didn't fail me, and she didn't fail me. I failed you, and her. I'm
just glad she got clean and got back with her family and is safe, happy,
and off the shit now. One of the few bright points in my life over these
last couple of months was watching her come back to life, and I'm gonna
go ahead and feel okay with giving myself a little credit for the small,
mostly meaningless role I played in making that happen.

Just one more favor for ol' JH before I stop asking, for good. Thanks.

I love you all, and I'm sorry.

I'm so goddamned sorry, for everything. Maybe someone who's younger and
hasn't been quite so beaten down will come along and pick up my torch.

It's just too heavy for me to carry anymore.

A few of you have access to a semi-secret personal account I've been
running as a tertiary backup since all the bullshit started with Matt
Desmond back in 2010. That account will remain open and I'll still be
there to chat with my friends there and give input when they ask me for
it - as if anyone needs the fucking advise of a failed and useless old
man whose never done anything but bluster and bullshit his whole life,
but whatever - for as long as I'm able, but other than that, this is the
end of the road. I'm also nuking my main FB account and the rest of my
backups, and I'm pulling the rest of my pages offline as soon as I finish
this message. I'll leave this page live for another couple-few days so
folks know what's up, but I won't be engaging in the comments or adding
anything else here before I shut it down.

Thanks for riding it with me while it lasted, and again, I'm sorry I
wasn't good enough to beat the bastards in the end.

Best,
John Henry DeJong,
Murray, Utah

PS: If anyone local wants the shit I've got in storage, hit me up before
the end of the day tomorrow. You'll need a small truck if you want it all
- my desk chair, the two (of three) rails from my drum rack, and my
filing cabinet won't fit in a car. Free, of course. What the hell use do
I have for money anymore, keeping my websites registered? Pfft. I reserve
the right to grab a couple of shirts and doo-dads that have sentimental
value or important memories attached, but the rest is all yours. I've got
no place to put it, and no use for it, anyway. And I don't really deserve
to have any of it - after all, if I wasn't the world's biggest piece of
shit, I wouldn't have been in this mess to begin with.

Oh yeah, Dink and your spiritual brethren, you can relax. I'm not coming
after you. I did start the process of filing criminal charges on Friday,
but I'm just gonna let it go. I don't have the energy anymore, and
frankly this world deserves to let people like you have all the
victories.

-jh
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