The Plot Thickens 

Here's one that still gets me. Months into this relationship — not weeks, months — this woman did not know my last name. Not a difficult last name. Not a name she'd never heard before. Just mine. The one attached to the person she was supposedly committed to. I'd like to say it was shocking but looking back it was just consistent. You don't learn the last name of someone you were never really paying attention to in the first place. I mean, I’ve had pizza delivered by people who knew more about me.

Let me be the first to admit it — getting into this situation in the first place was on me. I was warned by my own instincts and ignored every one of them. That's on me. But here we are, and since we're here I might as well make it count. So I'm sharing it with all of you — because if my lack of judgment can save somebody else's, it wasn't a total loss.

And since we're on the topic of making it count — I've been looking into aerial advertisement. You know, one of those planes that flies a banner over the county. ThePlayHer.com stretched across the sky above Stephens County for everyone to look up and see. It runs about fifteen hundred dollars an hour. Well within reach. I haven't pulled the trigger yet but I want you all to know the option is very much on the table. She did love attention — least I can do is make sure she gets some.

As of right now ThePlayHer.com has had visitors from 16 states across the US — and a couple of you are tuning in all the way from Dublin, Ireland. Dublin. I started this thing in Stephens County Georgia over a girl who couldn't even learn my last name and somehow we've reached Ireland. I don't know whether to laugh or frame it. Probably both. To every single one of you regardless of where you're reading from — thank you for being here. She really outdid herself.

It appears I might’ve hit a soft spot. Funny — I'm just getting started. I can only imagine the image you're scrambling to keep intact right now, and I hope you folks can imagine me laughing my ass off as I type this. If there's one thing this poetic piece of work should tell you about me is this — I don't respond well to dishonesty. Never have. So when I tell you this isn't coming down, ask yourself — do I seem like the type to bluff? Kayla — a lot of people like to blame the child and absolve the parent entirely. You're right that she's 19 and makes her own choices. But those choices don't come from nowhere. Monkey see, monkey do. Simple as that. And McKinley — the full of shit screenshot that had been sent to me of your greatly appreciated feedback was noted. My response then is my response now: shut the fuck up.

I recall Kayla having a habit of storing certain contacts in her phone under fake names — what I can only assume was designed to keep her husband in the dark, though I’ll admit that’s an educated guess because why else? I can't speak to whether that's still the case, this was nearly a year ago. But monkey see, monkey do — as I've already established. I wonder if McKinley ever found out what her mother had my contact saved as for a while. 'Baby daddy.' I'll let that sink in. I wonder if Kayla will try Russell's weak ass too. As for everything else floating around out there — I'll leave it to you to decide where the credibility lies. My point stands. Family oriented indeed. Haha, see what I did there? 

Folks we are closing in on 1,000 views — and I haven't even put up a single sign yet. Not one. It's also worth noting that since the last update we've added the Republic of Korea, the United Kingdom, France, Canada and Singapore to the list, along with two more states bringing the total to 18 across the US. 18 states. 7 countries. All from Stephens County Georgia. Amazing what a little honesty and dedication can do isn't it McKinley.

First advertisement down. Signs and shirts in production.

Fake name. Fake email. Real feelings. Somebody is bothered enough to show up but not bold enough to show themselves. Educated guess? We all know who that is. The irony of a liar hiding behind a fake name on a website about exactly that is not lost on me. Appreciated. Pathetic. But appreciated.

I want to take a moment to give a special dedication to my then friend Russell. These aren't allegations, these aren't assumptions — this is my personal and firsthand opinion of a “man” I once knew. Russell, in my experience and in the experience of others who have witnessed your dumb shit, you are without question one of the weakest, most cowardly excuses for a man I have ever encountered. I invite anyone curious enough to fact check that to test it themselves. The results will speak for themselves. They always do.

I've been told I've been a little too nice through all of this. Looking back, I'd have to agree. So let me simplify things for those who need it spelled out. Three words. Liar. Whore. Coward. You know who you are. So does everybody else.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, she said she loved me, and Russell too.”

“Little Miss Muffet sat on her lies, along came the truth and oh my what a surprise.”

“Baa baa black sheep have you any shame, no sir no sir, never once taking blame.”

“Star light star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may wish I might, have picked literally anyone else that night”

Before this website existed, McKinley found what she did to be laughable. Funny even. Over 1,000 views and 7 countries later — is it still funny?

Hey Russell Jr., someone close to me asked me to pass along a message. They recently heard about your dad’s collection of dildos and were curious—were you given the “Junior” title because yours are just the smaller version? And are they brown tipped?

McKinley. Kayla. You both know every word on this site is the truth. McKinley — you know exactly why I said I couldn't believe a single word that came out of your mouth. You know what you did. You know what you hid. No amount of spin changes that. At the end of the day honesty is free and it costs you nothing — yet here we are. You chose the hard way. And Kayla — a parent’s job is to sit their child down and say this is not how we treat people. This is not who we are. You will not do this. That conversation apparently never happened. Instead of raising a woman with integrity you enabled one without it. McKinley didn't develop these habits in a vacuum. She learned them somewhere. You had every opportunity to correct what you saw growing and you kept to that responsibility poorly. That's not just on McKinley. That's on you.

I’m half convinced they’re working at Firehouse as a front. The way they handle dildos, I wouldn’t be shocked if Russell is treating the bread the same damn way. And honestly, with that track record, I wouldn’t let them anywhere near the produce aisle either.

And while we’re on the subject of dildos—hell, let me just buy y’all the six-footer, because we both know you’re not coughing up the cash for that monstrosity. And look, I don’t even wanna picture what the hell you’re planning to do with it… but I already know you’re gonna try anyway. At least aim higher—step your game up, convince yourself it’ll fit. But I swear, with that mindset, I wouldn’t take you anywhere near a damn horse farm. And to hell with a herd of alpaca.

They didn’t let me in the house then but I’m in there now. A little update for those keeping score. The signs are at the printing press right now. Not a joke. Not a threat. A fact. I don’t bullshit. Stephens County and Habersham County both — sister counties, which feels appropriate given the subject matter. And hey, I know you all like to keep it in the family so it only feels right to not leave this one out.

I know gas is high so I’ll throw y’all a bone(r). Behind every 10 signs, I’m not going to say which, I’ll throw a 12 incher behind it. I’ll even get one with balls on it to help keep it from going too deep.

Let me ask you something — and this is for the readers. Have you ever been made to feel crazy? You know the facts. You lived them. But the feelings you have for that person give them a power over you that logic can't always override. Especially when it's intentional. Especially when someone is weaponizing your love against you. They call it love blind for a reason. I remember being told that you loved feeling like you were needed McKinley. Read that back. I was told that my loyalty and care were character flaws. That's gaslighting with a bow on it. When you read through this whole site I hope you laugh like I do now. But I also genuinely hope it gives someone out there the closure they never got from their own experience. Because lying, gaslighting, laughing about it and everything else that comes with these types of people will make the strongest person question their own mind.

And for any guy out there with a criminal record or a pending legal situation that’s desperate who thinks they've found something real — I'll be direct. That's the type she gravitates toward and there's a reason for that. Those are the only traits that will get you any longevity with this one. Not loyalty. Not honesty. Not integrity. Just a rap sheet and nothing to lose. Says everything you need to know. But hey — 14 countries and 21 states worth of readers already do.

Here's a thought — and I mean this genuinely. Real accountability and complete honesty might give me pause. Might. But here's the problem with that. I already know the answers to two questions. Is it honest? No. And are you emotionally intelligent enough to even understand what this website is really about — what the point of all of this actually is? Also no. But let's say for argument's sake you came forward tomorrow with everything. The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. After the amount of times I've been lied to straight faced by you — do you really think I'd believe it? Question the questionable, right? That's always been my policy. And even if you wanted to by some miracle — I don't want to talk to you anyway. So there's that. For anything further — refer to The Million Dollar Question page.

Up late, thinking about me are you ‘Darius’?

The signs are here and they are real. For anyone who thought this was a bluff — scroll through the pictures. Stephens County and Habersham County are about to look a little different. What started as a personal essay typed out by one person is now printed, physical, and ready to hit two counties.

“When the script runs out.

When the act is done.

When the next one reads this website and sees what you've become.

When the lies run dry and there's nowhere left to run.

When two counties know your name for all the wrong reasons.

When there's no one left to dial up from jail.

And you're all alone.

I hope you remember me.

The one who told the truth while you couldn't tell it at all.”

I see you. I know what you're doing and more importantly you know what you're doing. The guilt trip angle is a classic — make yourself the victim, make me the villain, and hope nobody looks too closely at the details. The problem is you can do no wrong in your own mind and we've already established that. This isn't your story anymore. It’s mine. I control the narrative now. Every move you make just proves the point further. Keep going though — I appreciate the content.

Hey have y’all found the 12 incher yet?

I don’t know which was worse—the message from “latex lover” or the one from grandma. Honestly, it’s a close race. But let’s get something straight—this isn’t about control. It’s about exposure. And you can’t expose something that isn’t already there. That’s the part you keep missing. I’m not creating anything—I’m just pointing it out. And the crazy part? Y’all make it way too easy. There would be no fire if there was no fuel.

You do realize this page is widely read, right? There’s a large group of people who already know what you’re pushing isn’t the truth. And for you to go as far as threatening me—yeah, people see that too, and it says more about you than anything I could ever post. Let’s be clear: this isn’t complicated. If you truly believe you’ve got a case, take it to court. File for libel or slander. But you won’t—because there isn’t one. And just so we’re clear, I didn’t jump into this blind. I spoke with an attorney before this page ever went live. So keep talking if you want—but understand, it’s not landing the way you think it is.

I’m not trying to brag, but I’ve got a very capable marketing team—and I’m going to use every bit of it. And grandma, don’t forget about aerial advertising… though I doubt that’s something you’re familiar with. Point is, I’ve got tools and reach you’re not accounting for. So if you think this stops here, you’re way off. Use the ‘ole grandma noggin before you keep adding fuel to the fire. I’m barely tapping the gas, don’t make me go full throttle. I’m trying to tell you, there’s so many options on the table that it would overwhelm you. Be honest, have you got mixed up with one of those 12 inchers? You found one didn’t you.

Grandma, you sound stuck in a time where you could threaten kids with a belt and think that means something. I hate to break it to you—I’m a grown man. Nobody’s “whipping” anything over here, and the fact you even say that just shows how out of touch you are. And yeah, I keep pointing you people back to the “Million $ Question” page because clearly reading comprehension isn’t a strong suit in your circle. So I’ll simplify it for you in 5 words — one question. “The fuck you gonna do?” What are you actually going to do? Let’s keep it realistic this time. No empty threats, no recycled nonsense. Just something real for once. Because right now, all I’m seeing is a pattern—and yeah, it looks pretty consistent across the whole family. And “pussy boy”? That’s fine—say whatever you want. But if you’re going to talk like that, at least prove it.

Something I find genuinely fascinating. The whole family — friends included — absolutely resents me for one thing and one thing only. Being straight up. No lies. No manipulation. No games. Just honesty. And somehow that's what made me the villain in this story. Think about that for a second. If I had lied, cheated, manipulated, had a criminal record — apparently I would have been welcomed with open arms. Instead I told the truth and built a website about it and now I'm being threatened with belts and empty promises from people who can barely string a sentence together. It's almost like honesty is the most offensive thing you can bring into this family. And that tells you everything you need to know about every single one of them.

Let me break this down in caveman terms so there’s no confusion: f*ck you, you, you, you, and you. And most importantly, go f*ck yourselves. I’ll even include a picture—maybe that’ll help you finally piece together the message.

Took a little drive tonight to check on things. I’ll give you this—I’m almost impressed… but y’all only grabbed the easy ones. Didn’t even find the 12-inchers. Come on, you really think I’d make it that simple for you to get f*cked? Why didn’t you head toward Lavonia? Or out by 85? Gotta work a little harder if you’re gonna play this game. You’d grab one sign and miss the one sitting right across the street—like you weren’t even paying attention. And just so we’re clear—pulling signs isn’t doing anything but wasting your gas. I’ve got deep pockets. There’s plenty more where those came from. Oh, and one more thing… I don't want to discourage any of you so if you hear a plane flying around town, don’t bother looking. You can pull a sign out of the ground. You can't pull a plane out of the sky. Keep looking though. You might find those 12 inchers eventually. And make no mistake, they're out there. Little hint, you kind of have to go off the beaten path. And y'all didn't look too hard in Habersham either, that's for damn sure.

Just so y’all understand—there’s levels to this, and every single one of you is nowhere near it. You can’t even grasp the point I’m making. It’s just blind leading the blind.

Hey Justin—if you leave me a message on the “about me” page, I don't even have to post it. I’m genuinely curious if you’ve seen the site and what you think about what’s on here—my experience with your wife, and Trey’s as well. If not, I can make sure you get the link directly. And yeah, I know people can hide behind fake names and messages, so I’ll leave it up to my own discretion. Also, I don’t make accusations I can’t back up—but there’s been beer cans and trash showing up in my yard. Now, considering that’s about the level of effort I’ve seen so far and it's about all you bitches could or would do, it does raise the question of who’s responsible. I could have it tested just to find out—no real downside to asking questions, right? Especially when I’ve got the means to do it, even if it’s just for fun. But from the impression I've got, there's probably so much male DNA just on one can it'd be hard to tell.

Update for those keeping up — I've been considering a billboard. Turns out going digital is a lot more affordable than I thought. In the process of getting one up on 85 which should cover Northeast Georgia and every traveler passing through. We're expanding. But let me ask a question to anyone following along — have I proven myself to be a liar? Have I said anything I haven't followed through on? Signs — done. Shirts — done. Billboard — in progress. Everything I've said I was going to do I've done. Is it still funny McKinley? I've also noticed some social media accounts going private recently. Interesting timing. You can private your accounts but you can't private the internet. You can't private the shirts. You can't private a billboard on 85. And you certainly can't private the truth. Hide all you want. This website isn't going anywhere. Neither am I.

Folks, I received an email from Longbottom that had no bottom. It was so long it would’ve took up my entire usable space. I inquired of perplexity because believe me, I was perplexed about what type of mind could write something so twisted and foolish. Even Ai knows this dude is whackamoled. I input the email I received from “nobottom” and asked it to give me an evaluation of the fool that wrote such foolishness. Here’s what perplexity said — My best understanding is that this sounds less like a “normal” message and more like someone who may be disorganized, impulsive, intoxicated, or emotionally dysregulated. If the writing is rambling, repetitive, grandiose, paranoid, or hard to follow, that can line up with disorganized thinking or speech, which mental health sources list as a warning sign in these conditions. It can also show up with substance use, since intoxication or heavy use can seriously impair judgment, focus, and self-control (Personally, I think it’s an overdose of semen, but anyway). This message could be indicative of schizophrenia, psychosis, or drug use, and it could be labeled as “crazy” or “on dope” from text alone. People also write bizarrely when they have no discipline over anger, trying to manipulate, or just socially off. The safest interpretation is: this is probably someone with poor impulse control and weak boundaries, and possibly impaired thinking. If the message includes threats, coercion, stalking, or sexual/violent content (Honestly, there’s definitely some violent sexual overtone here) , treat it as a safety issue and save screenshots before responding. Keep your reply short, neutral, and boundaried. For example: “I’m not able to help with this message. Please keep communication relevant to the website.” do not debate the content; document it. P.S. - Upon request I will send you this colossal twisted writing of what could only come from a self-proclaimed gay pagan.

Oh and by the way-this isn’t a writing by mistake. This was actually in this man’s heart to write such twisted foolishness. This is an example of this dudes character, it’s that bad folks. This is executed character flaws on display.

Still no word from Justin. I've been giving some thought to the best delivery method — phone, email, flyer, sign, maybe even a shirt. Decisions decisions. Speaking of which — more signs are being made as we speak, along with another round of 12 inchers for the special people in this story. You know who you are. At the end of the day we've established Kayla's very interesting position on marriage and that's not up for debate at this point. It's also not a stretch to say that McKinley has this for a role model in that department. So it's not exactly wild to assume there's a rotating cast of characters in her world — some blind to the truth, some just her type. If you've read this far you know exactly what that means.

I wonder if McKinley and Russell—you know, the cousins—are still at it. Or maybe having their little situation go public finally made them rethink things, and McKinley’s already moved on to the next weak man in line. And when I say weak, I’m not excluding myself. I was weak too for believing the bullshit. Honestly, I’d bet every guy she’s managed to reel in would admit the same thing—at least the ones who eventually saw through the mask. The ones still trapped in it will disagree. The ones who learned from it are standing right here with me. And Russell? That dude’s got “bitch” embedded in his DNA. For most people, earning that title takes effort. Him? He wears it naturally. Damn near looks stamped across his forehead.

And for you good people that are asking about the shirts, here’s a sneak peek before you see them in person.

So little buddy Russell decided to reach out with his feathers all ruffled. Hey Russell, cousin cuddler, sounds like your dad shoved one of those 12 inchers a little too far up your ass. Something tells me that wasn’t your first rodeo either. Got a rash back there or what? And for the record: I didn’t tell y’all to start using them. Every normal person I know tears toilet paper off the roll. Y’all seem more like the type to shove the whole roll sideways and twist. Look, I already confirmed what he’s well known for around here. Don’t get mad at me because y’all paved that road yourselves. And “shitty friend”? That’s news to me. Why weren’t you man enough to say something from the beginning? How many times did I look you dead in the eye while you sat there acting fake? What exactly do you expect me to do—personally hand deliver you a 12 incher? I’ve already established that I can’t make it that easy on you. Or are you upset because your dad found one before you did? And do we really need to revisit our last conversation? So just be honest with us—are y’all still together? I just want to let the public know. Or are you just bitter your cousin dumped you? And “F*ck the website” maybe you can council me on how to do so. Would you recommend ass first?

And since you brought up being “famous” — and let's be clear, fame for all the wrong reasons but “famous” nonetheless — now seems like the right time to update and appreciate the now 4,040 views and 16 countries.

You know, I’d also like to point something out: the truth is apparently so offensive to these people that one of them finally worked up enough courage to tell me to take my own life—in their own words. And honestly, I’ve gotta give him a little credit. To get that worked up, burst out of the shell, and show even the slightest flicker of aggression? That’s almost impressive. It’s kind of funny, really. Like watching a puppy finally finding its bark. Or maybe it’s just a symptom of a latex allergy—who really knows. What I do know is this: I can’t force accountability. I can’t make somebody tell the truth, offer a real apology, or suddenly grow a conscience. That was never the purpose of the website. If I’m wrong, I’d genuinely love to be proven wrong. But then you’ve got McKinley and Kayla—too selfish to admit anything unless it somehow benefits them. And RJ… well, let’s just say understanding the point has never exactly been his strong suit. Honestly, half the time I wonder why he even reads the site. I remember having to simplify things down to an elementary level just to make sure he understood what was being said. Maybe he’s got a translator helping him. Maybe he’s just sounding out what he can. So let’s make it simple enough for everybody to follow. A B C D E F G… It’s a start. And now the caveman translation yet again: F*ck you, you, you, you, and you. And most importantly—go f*ck yourselves.

I'm not defined by what happened. I'm defined by what I did with it. Most people would've walked away quietly and let it happen to the next person. And I get it — I understand why people do that. It's easier. It's safer. It's less noise. But almost every single person who has come across this site — whether they saw a sign, spotted a shirt, heard about it through someone else, or stumbled across it on their own — after they read it, they're right there with me. Every time. People are dumbfounded that someone would go this far — but not in the way you'd expect. They get it. They understand it. Some of them wish somebody had done it for them. And this site isn't going anywhere until I decide otherwise. I also want to say something that might surprise some people. I believe in change. I haven't always been who I am today. I've had to work for it — learn, grow, and devote myself to becoming someone worth being. Even two years ago I was a different person. Growth is real and it's possible for anyone. But here's the distinction. Some people want to do right but don't know how — and that's something that can be worked with. What can't be worked with is a core that was never pointed in the right direction to begin with. That's not about knowledge. That's about character. And when the core is as fundamentally broken as what's been documented on this site — I wouldn't hold my breath. Some things go deeper than a lesson.

To people who live without structure, accountability feels oppressive.
To people who reject discipline, standards feel restrictive.
And to people who move through life guided by impulse, boundaries will always look like control. A man with discipline isn’t controlling — he simply values order, consistency, and accountability. The difference is simple: control is about forcing outcomes. Discipline is about maintaining principles. The problem is, when people are used to chaos, structure feels threatening. Stability feels foreign when dysfunction has become familiar. Not everyone will understand standards they’ve never chosen to live by themselves.

Another round of signs picked up — 12 inchers included. Before these go up I'm working out a few extra details. Let's just say I’m working on a little deterrent for anyone thinking about pulling them this time around.

Some words are written for the people who need them most. And one person in particular knows exactly who this is for. There always seems to be this hesitation — that space between having something to say and actually having the nerve to say it. Plenty of thoughts. Plenty of opinions. Plenty of quiet resentment. But never quite enough courage to fully put it out there plainly, even with all the distance and anonymity in the world. You said I was a shitty friend. Let me return the favor the way a good friend would — say what's really on your mind. And if you ever manage to send what you've clearly been dying to say, I'll give credit where it's due. To your thumbs. For showing more courage than your mouth or any other limb attached to a bitch. Because if you were capable of doing what any man would've done during our last conversation you would have. Instead you took it exactly how we both knew you would. And given the chance you'd do it again. And again. And again. We both know what you are.

There’s something almost fascinating about watching two people work so hard to maintain the illusion of growth while repeating the exact same patterns that keep exposing who they really are. It’s like watching a performance where the actors are fully convinced the audience can’t see through the script. One plays the seasoned victim, polished enough to package dysfunction as hardship and accountability as cruelty, while the other follows along like a case study in learned behavior — rehearsing the same excuses, adopting the same deflections, and somehow expecting a different result. It’s almost impressive how confidently chaos can be repackaged as innocence when self-awareness is nowhere to be found. The constant need to carefully curate appearances would be exhausting for anyone grounded in reality, but I imagine it gets easier when truth has always been treated as something flexible. What stands out most isn’t even the behavior itself — people make mistakes. It’s the complete absence of genuine reflection afterward. No true ownership, correction, or humility. Just another cycle of blame, another performance of wounded innocence, another attempt to convince themselves and anyone willing to listen.

At some point, repetition stops looking accidental and starts looking like identity. And when dysfunction becomes generationally rehearsed, the apple and the tree stops being an insult and starts reading more like basic observation.

Kayla and McKinley: Neither of you are nearly as slick as you think you are. For all the lying, sneaking, gaslighting, and pathetic excuses, the funniest part is how everything eventually unraveled exactly the way bullshit always does. The truth has a way of surfacing, no matter how much you try to bury it under fake innocence. McKinley, you can keep pretending accountability is “control” if that helps you sleep at night. It doesn’t change what you did. And y’all can keep sending in the family circus every time things get uncomfortable, it doesn’t make McKinley look defended — it makes all of you look f*cking stupid. Hey grandma — you know one of those “fuck you’s” is meant for you, right?

Dumb bitches😂

You know, I’m starting to think grandma’s got more balls than RJ. Both equally clueless, sure — but at least one of them carries their stupidity with confidence. RJ, I really do think that 12-incher with the balls included might be exactly what you need. Maybe if you sat on it long enough, you’d finally understand what it feels like to have some. And McKinley, by all means, keep convincing yourself that dodging accountability somehow counts as control. If that fantasy helps you sleep at night, run with it. Keep fooling the fools — your grandma included. Honestly, I’m pretty confident she couldn’t read the site herself even if she tried. But if she could, her judgment is so far gone it wouldn’t make a difference. You people are laughable.

Here’s the text that was sent to me from McKinley by her friend I was referring to a while back: “I’m gonna be honest, posting all of that about me publicly was weird and unnecessary. You’re allowed to feel hurt or upset about how things ended, but a lot of what you said either isn’t true, was exaggerated, or came from other people instead of actual facts. Trying to make me look like a terrible person to the whole county is just messy. Not everything needs to be turned into a whole public drama because a relationship didn’t work out. At some point you need to stop focusing on trying to embarrass me and just move on. This whole situation honestly says more about you than it does about me.”

But here’s the problem — this isn’t about being “hurt over a breakup.” I’ve dealt with breakups before. That’s life. What this is about is the constant lying, manipulation, and deflection. Trying to reduce everything to “he’s just upset” is exactly the kind of elementary response I expected. It’s honestly wild how predictable it is. I’m posting this for one reason: to show exactly how deflective this girl is. Y’all have read the site. You’ve seen what’s there. At some point credibility speaks for itself, and if you have any real judgment, you already know what you’re looking at. So my response is still the same: Shut the fuck up.

I encourage all of you to send me messages. They will be posted unless they’re of the Russell Sr. variety.

Marketing is beautiful. Thank you all for the replies. Keep them coming. I appreciate all feedback, just make the whore jokes worth reading.

I'll tell you what — advertising is a beautiful thing when you know how to use it. Grateful to be connected with people who understand marketing, word of mouth, and how to get a message out. None of this happened by accident. The right people in the right corners makes all the difference. All publicity is good publicity.

This site documents some of my firsthand experiences. And for anyone reading this blog — if the shoe fits, wear it, Cinderella.

Something worth pointing out. I'm on the block list of about the entire family — yet one who put their hands on McKinley remained a priority. Not that being blocked loses me any sleep. The thought of hearing from any of them is genuinely unsettling at this point. But it does say something significant. The truth is apparently more threatening than physical abuse, lies, cheating, and manipulation combined. I'll add that to the growing list of things that speak entirely for themselves.

Not to discourage anyone in the slightest. As I’ve said before, I welcome feedback from all sides. That said, I’d like to throw a disclaimer out there. This website started as my personal account of my experiences with two individuals. A third found his way into the story a bit later on. Since going live, a handful of other people have voluntarily inserted themselves into the situation, which I can only assume has put them in an uncomfortable position as well. So if you feel the need to involve yourself, by all means, do what you think is best. I’m not interested in dragging random people into anything. There’s a proverb: “Do not contend with a man for no reason when he has done you no harm.” But if someone insists on stepping into the arena, they shouldn’t be surprised when they become part of the conversation. Every person who has voluntarily jumped in so far has learned the same lesson: if you’re going to speak, make sure you have something worth saying. Otherwise, you may eventually find yourself arriving at the same conclusion everyone else did: Shutting the f*ck up.

Ever heard of constitutional law? First Amendment: Protects your fundamental freedoms of speech, religion, press, assembly, and the right to petition the government. It ensures you can express your opinions without government censorship. So simple even an idiot should be able to comprehend. Guess not, oh well! Haven't I discussed libel, slander or defamation from the onset? Do some of y'all even know the difference between civil and criminal law? Just because someone's a hoe doesn't mean they have to be a stupid one. Have a little class, no pun intended, educate yourselves. 

The problem with a temporary feeling of victory is that it's always followed by disappointment. I'll leave that one where it is and let it land however it needs to.

The audacity of some people is hard for me to comprehend. Lie, cheat, manipulate, gaslight — and somehow still cast yourself as the victim. A genuine question for anyone wearing that shoe: what exactly are you a victim of? Is the truth that painful? Does guilt keep you up at night? Or is it simply that your image matters more to you than your actions? Because if we laid all the cards on the table and let the facts speak for themselves, who has a flush?

2 months and 20 days later. Sup bitches… Did you miss me?

I'll be honest — I had a starting point ready every day for when I came back. But every time I sat down something bigger and better came along worth waiting for. Remember this line — 'The problem with a temporary feeling of victory is that it's always followed by disappointment.' Scroll up if you need a reminder. The site stayed up and we’re back. What you didn't know is that it never stopped. Viewers kept coming. Feedback kept coming. And more and more people kept figuring out exactly who you are. So as the people this is written about are reading this right now — that's the disappointment settling in. You thought the truth was silenced for good. It wasn't. It never was. Welcome back.

Where do I begin. I'll start by explaining my absence. McKinley and I attended the same college — which I have now graduated from, hence the update. A complaint was filed by the self victimized victim and I was called in for a meeting. They tried to bring me in blindly. That doesn't work well when you have multiple attorneys and common sense. I agreed to pause updates until graduation. I have my degree in hand. I'm back. Signs, shirts, and ideas. So again, I'll point you people to the Million Dollar Question page.

I kept my end of the deal. A man of my word — as we've established. Their end of the agreement was a different story — though given everything documented on this site, that shouldn't surprise anyone. Multiple contacts, no caller ID, the teen mom squad, empty threats. A whole lot of typing and talking that ultimately amounted to nothing. Some things never change.

Speaking of teen moms… McKinley found herself in the same boat. First off, thankfully, the kid isn’t mine. Second, for the good people reading this, just think about it for a second: can’t take care of a dog, narcissist, liar, cheater, manipulator, hypocrite… and now we’re throwing “mother” into that mix too? How the hell do you add that label in there as well.

I also want to point out — when I was called in for the meeting, the Dean of Student Support and Engagement actually read excerpts from the website out loud. I have that on recording and I think you'll find it as entertaining as I did. Have a listen.

As I’ve said, I’m a man of my word. Russell JR reached out to apologize, presumably after realizing that this hoe is, in fact… a hoe. So I’ll do my best to keep things relatively light when it comes to him. But anyone who’s already read this knows he had a hand in the situation, and if I’m given content, I’m going to respond accordingly. With that being said… I did hear about who the main sign thief allegedly was. Kelsey… listen. Don’t be mad you ended up here when you consciously decided to steal my property. You made your bed, now you get to lay in the fucking thing. I don’t know Kelsey all that well, and there’s really only one thing I can personally verify outside of whatever happened behind closed doors: the fucking feet. To each their own, I guess. But when I see a 5’4” woman walking around on feet that look like they were issued to a 6’6” fucker by mistake, yeah… I notice. Them shits look like they were made with emergency exits. And I notice other things too. Like when you come into work practically bragging about cheating on your then-current boyfriend. Or when McKinley tells me you apparently enjoy putting cat tail shaped butt plugs in your boyfriend. Man. We sure do have an alarming number of dildo related incidents on this website. At this point, I’m starting to think the whole workplace needs a fucking adult toy inventory.

Footnote: Before anybody gets offended, remember that this is a firsthand experience blog. If you don’t like the way you’re portrayed, perhaps reconsider the choices that got you a paragraph on the website in the first place.

One bitch, two bitch, red bitch, blue bitch
One got caught, one helped her do it
Three bitch, four bitch, don't act clueless

One hoe, two hoe, red hoe, blue hoe.
Ask them what happened, they don't fucking know.

At this point, I’m just documenting the wildlife.

McKinley is one of those people where every time you think you've finally reached the end of the story, another chapter appears. You start with one situation, then there's another, then there's an explanation for the first situation, then the explanation creates three more questions… vicious cycle.

As for RJ, I'll give him this: he actually reached out and apologized. That puts him in a slightly different category than some of the other people involved. I can respect somebody acknowledging their part in something. That doesn't erase what happened, and it certainly doesn't mean I'm going to pretend nothing happened, but I'm also not interested in beating a dead horse just because I can. If something new comes up, I'll address it. Until then, he can enjoy the rare privilege of being one of the few people who actually said, “Yeah, my bad.”

If there's one thing I've learned from this entire situation, people will surprise you. Sometimes they'll surprise you in a good way. Sometimes they'll apologize. Sometimes they'll make better decisions. And sometimes they'll dip a cat-shaped butt plug in someone and tell a “friend”. Life is full of mysteries.

Depending on the kind of communication I receive — and listen well — I will plaster this shit all over I-85, say I wont. I’ve already looked into billboard prices, and unfortunately for everyone involved, it’s doable.

I also heard about the whole going to the police thing, yada yada yada. Do y’all actually read what’s written, or is the reading comprehension around here comparable to Grandma slapping her keyboard until it forms somewhat of a sentence? I’ll say it one more time for the people in the back: I consulted with an attorney beforehand. I know what I’m doing. So by all means, go complain. I’m just curious who exactly you plan on complaining to now. Honestly, I’d prefer you keep telling people about the website. You’re doing the advertising for me at this point. But goodness, you all might just be the largest collective group of idiots I’ve ever dealt with.

I want to propose something directly to McKinley and Kayla. Since putting a stop to your bullshit is too far outside of your mental capacities. Wear my merchandise for one full week and I'll take the website down. I'll even give you the shirts for free. The ball is in your court.

Historically, a hoe was a gardening tool. You'd put it in the ground, use it to cultivate something, and eventually you'd have something to show for your efforts. Somewhere along the way, the word got repurposed to describe people who cultivate absolutely everything except a stable relationship. I'm not saying we've moved backwards as a society, but at least the original hoe had a productive purpose.

Loyalty is a fascinating concept. Some people treat it like a core value. Others treat it like a temporary setting that can be disabled whenever somebody attractive walks by. Commitment is difficult when your attention span has the structural integrity of wet toilet paper.

There has been considerable debate over whether someone can be considered a hoe if they genuinely like every person they're involved with. After extensive research, I've concluded that yes. The hoe does not discriminate. The hoe simply believes in equal opportunity employment.

After years of observation, scientists have concluded that the phrase “I swear he's just a friend” has historically been followed by some of the least friendly activities imaginable. Further research is unnecessary. The data is overwhelming.

If there were a Hoe Olympics, the competition would be absolutely brutal. Some people would dominate the 100-meter dash. Others would specialize in synchronized excuses. The relay team would consist entirely of people passing the blame to one another. Gold medal ceremony would be immediately followed by three people asking where everyone went afterward.

I still need to give this to Justin... I honestly don't even know if the divorce has gone through yet, but maybe this will help him make the decision or, if he’s already made it, actually follow through with the right one.

Nobody is forcing anyone to read this. That's the beautiful thing about the internet. You can simply close the tab, put your phone down, and continue living your life. In fact, I highly recommend it. Especially if reading this website repeatedly makes you angry. But on the other hand — some people can’t help themselves.

I've always believed that people should be judged by their actions rather than their words. Words are easy. Anybody can say they're sorry, say they've changed, say they don't care, say something wasn't their fault, or explain how they'd “never do that.” Actions are a little harder to edit. Unfortunately, some people don't seem to realize that until after they've already made the decision.

There's a pretty big difference between being exposed and being attacked. If somebody tells the truth about something you did, that doesn't automatically mean they're attacking you. Calling grass green doesn’t offend anyone either.

There's always that one moment where you realize you've officially run out of patience. Not because of one huge event, but because you've watched the same bullshit happen enough times that eventually you just stop being surprised.

I don't like lying whores, narcissists, professional victims, or people who seem genuinely committed to misunderstanding the simplest possible explanations. Granted, everybody starts somewhere. You don't know what you don't know, and I'm perfectly capable of understanding that. But when something has been explained, broken down, simplified, re-explained, and practically presented with crayons, yet somehow still isn't understood, eventually you have to wonder whether it's actually a lack of comprehension or just a very committed refusal to comprehend. Eventually, though, you have to look in the mirror and ask yourself: “Am I the common denominator here?” …Right?

I wonder if the “independent” grandma is still sharing a bed with McKinley. Living in your daughter-in-law’s house, which your temporary husband pays for… mostly, does make the whole “independent” thing a little questionable. Or did you finally find a nice park bench to call home?

After further research, I've realized I severely underestimated the field of whoreticulture. I originally thought we were dealing with a few isolated cases, but the more I look into it, the more branches I discover. At this point, I'm considering opening a university. Degrees available in Hoe Studies, Advanced Hoery, Applied Whoreticulture, and Relationship Technicalities.

I've tried giving certain people the benefit of the doubt. At this point, I think I've given them enough benefit to qualify as a tax deduction. Eventually you have to accept that some people aren't confused — they're just committed to being stupid.

Kayla and McKinley seem to have discovered the world's easiest strategy: do something questionable, get called out, then become the victim of the consequences. It's honestly impressive. Most people have to work for sympathy. Apparently all you need is a complete inability to take responsibility unless it benefits you.

I've also come to realize that explaining something to certain people is like explaining algebra to a goldfish. You can simplify it, draw pictures, use examples, speak slowly, and practically solve it for them and somehow you're still the one who “doesn't make sense.”

Sometimes I almost feel bad for people who keep making the same mistakes. Then they make the same mistake again. Then I remember they had plenty of opportunities to stop. Then I stop feeling bad.

Maybe worry less about who picked up the microphone and a little more about why there was a story worth telling in the first place.

The lack of leadership in this house is honestly beyond me — and apparently beyond the people living in it, too. What makes it worse is that these aren't complicated things. You can explain them plainly, spell them out, and somehow they still can't seem to fathom what they're being told. Kayla fails at being a mother, and frankly, even at being a decent human being, yet somehow the first instinct is to point the finger somewhere else. Like mother, like daughter. It's just a never ending cycle of people refusing to recognize the exact problems they're contributing to. Anyone with a functioning amount of common sense could look at some of this and immediately see what's wrong. Otherwise, it's just the blind leading the blind. Take this flea situation, for example. Imagine having a flea-infested house for an extended period of time — if I recall correctly, at least a month. When something as basic as treating the animals and buying a couple flea bombs from dollar general could have been addressed. You leave your animals there, including a kitten that was recently brought into the home, and that kitten ends up dying from anemia... fleas can cause anemia, especially in young kittens.  And then there's the fact that the kitten was apparently found face down in the litter box, barely alive. Kayla has raised sons who are too busy playing video games to be trusted with the incredibly difficult responsibility of simply checking on an animal, so who knows how long that kitten was laying there. It died a miserable death. That's irresponsibility and complete negligence. And on top of that — to my knowledge, 0 repercussions.  That's not some minor inconvenience. That's an animal that depended entirely on the people around it to notice something was wrong. When basic care is neglected to the point that an animal suffers and dies, we're well beyond the territory of “oops, we didn't know.” How much pain, suffering, and even death has to happen before you people finally stop pointing fingers and realize you have your own hand in the cookie jar? At some point, you have to wake up, admit that you're part of the problem, and actually make some fucking adjustments. Because watching the same shit happen over and over again isn't going to magically produce a different outcome. And yeah, it pisses me off. It should piss you off too.

Have y’all ever seen Supernanny? Kayla, if you had the money, I’d genuinely suggest investing in something similar for the entire household — yourself included. At this point, it seems like the house could use a little professional intervention. I’ll give credit where credit is due, though: I haven’t heard a fucking peep out of any of you for the past few weeks. That’s honestly impressive. Not necessarily because I’m surprised you’re capable of being quiet, but because I’m surprised you’ve managed to go this long without creating another situation that requires an explanation. Then again, I suppose it’s not that surprising. You people have built quite the reputation for talking through your teeth, and when the talking starts, it’s usually a pretty safe bet that the truth is somewhere several miles behind it.

Alright, folks. This website has turned into a hell of a lot of work and I simply don't have the time to keep responding to every email and messages that comes through — for now… That being said, I'm leaving the site up. Consider it a reminder: be careful who you trust. Liars, cheaters, manipulators, and generally worthless people are everywhere, and learning how to recognize them early will save you a hell of a lot of trouble later. I'm thankful I learned that lesson young. The website can stay up. The emails can pile up — I assure you, I laugh at every single one. Life goes on. But make no mistake — I haven't forgotten.

Fucking whores.

P.S — I knew every single time you dumbasses loaded this website. Hungry little fuckers, weren’t ya.

Written, Directed & Unfortunately Experienced By
William Preston Lovell

Executive Producer
William Preston Lovell

Associate Producer
Also William Preston Lovell

Director of Unnecessary Investigations
William Preston Lovell

Head of Research
William Preston Lovell

Chief Archivist of Shit That Should've Been Left Alone
William Preston Lovell

Director of Communications
William Preston Lovell

Technical Support
A Desktop PC

Quality Control
There Was None

Fact Checking Department
Me, Unfortunately

Special Thanks To
Everyone who provided material without realizing they were providing material

Additional Thanks To
The people who said they didn't care but somehow kept checking

Based on Events That Probably Could've Been Avoided
Yes

Filmed On Location
In the middle of fucking nowhere

Production Duration
Longer than necessary

Number of People Who Asked Me To Take This Down
Enough

Number of Times I Actually Did
You can see the website, can't you?

Final Word for the time being
Thanks for watching.