A comment from “Just for Thought”
“I feel you need to grow up. The attack was brutal and cowardly and the people who participated should be caught and punished. But the filth and venom flying out of your post is nearly as ugly as the assault. “I truly could care less what color they are” doesn’t ring true from someone who finds it so easy to use the anti-gay and anti-woman insults you’ve sprinkled on this page. Change yourself, grow up, being vulgar isn’t pretty or tough or manly.”
A comment from “Roger Bland”
“This is a daily occurrence, and it is quite frustrating.
However, your clearly a horrible writer. Your article, comments, and arguments are almost as infuriating as this video. I understand why you want to express your feelings towards this cowardly beat down, but your message is weak and only shows how feeble minded you are.
I don’t mean to insult you, but maybe try stepping back for a moment, controlling your emotions, and write something that people won’t find so annoying and immature when reading.”
The other comments I saw seemed to be pretty positive in response to my article on Aaron Jacob Parsons and his gang of street pirates who thought it would be cute to beat, rob, strip and humiliate some random dude wandering around in Baltimore.
Looking back through my post I will admit to using some rather disparaging remarks to describe the females visible in the video. I used terms like “stinky ass fat whores”, “cunts”, and of course “bitches”. In retrospect I realize that I should have taken the time to divorce myself of the angry emotions that were flooding my brain after watching the video, gather my thoughts, and come up with a better analysis.
It was also pointed out to me that I used some pretty harsh terms to derogatorily describe the perpetrators of this senseless crime. I used terms like “faggot”, and references such as “i love to suck cock”. I offer up no excuse for my bad behavior.
I’d like to take this opportunity to extend my sincere apologies to the homosexual community as well as the female community for my thoughtless comments. I promise to watch what I type in the future, perhaps asking myself, “What Would Jesus Do?” if I find myself unsure about what I’m writing.
I hope this post paves the way for a reconciliation between myself and the homosexual/female communities.
Its been an interesting day in Cyberspace. A perfect storm of sorts has come together and unleashed her fury on krashthrills.wordpress.com in the form of thousands and thousands of views of an article I wrote regarding Aaron Jacob Fosters yesterday. As of 7:01 p.m. tonight I have had 6,938 people from 11 countries visit my website and read what I wrote. There 3,583 clicks of links that I provided that contain more information/corroboration of the crimes that are proven alleged by what I have written, all of which originated on the /b/ forum on 4chan.org. I want to take this opportunity to give props to the guys and girls who reside at /b/. They might be a little warped but collectively they hold a great deal of power in their fingertips. It was awesome to be a witness to this power as it unfolded. Awesome as in I was awestruck and still am. Certainly it is not a good idea to get on the bad side of a group that has this kind of power at its disposal. Even worse to do it when they are bored and frothing at the bit for something to do.
It seems a bit of a foregone conclusion that the consequences are going to be severe and swift for the individuals responsible for the degrading beat down and robbery of the still unnamed victim in this case. I feel absolutely no sympathy for the perpetrators. I don’t give a shit what they have to say about it or what their excuse is or if they even remember what they were doing because of intoxication levels , temporary amnesia etc. I really hope that prison is the end result for Aaron Jacob Parsons and everyone else involved, especially that annoying drunk bitch wearing her black panties parading around the street like she was some glamour queen. Fuck her. (man she STILL pisses me off)
The haters calling me racist can all suck it to be honest. I am not even going to bother addressing that accusation. It’s not true and my life and anything I’ve ever written in the past will attest to that FACT. So, hate on haters.
I got a call from a reporter named Justin from the Baltimore Sun. We talked for quite a few minutes about the origin of this situation, 4chan’s /b/ forum and more. His view, stated to me anyhow, was that this is an instance of the internet being used for good and he was quick to show his admiration for the detective work done by the /b/ forum lurkers. I agree wholeheartedly with this sentiment. Choosing to fight against the “forces that /b/ is the ultimate example of the idiot who brings a knife to a gun fight”.
Have a good night everyone……Anthony Mandich
ADDENDUM: I replied to an email from the reporter I mentioned. Here is what I had to say. And I quote:
hey justin it was good talking to you. i’m sending you this stuff before i even blog it so i must think you’re cool. just don’t get me killed lol.
here is a quote from me if you want
“aaron jacob parsons is a wanted man”….post after post on /b/ repeated those words. it was late i was annoyed. the arrogance shown by @flyguyparsons and @CASHton-Kutcher by posting the video of themselves proudly separating a man from his dignity really angered me. they acted like it was so funny and so cool.
to beat down a guy like that, seemingly with impunity when:
(A) he didn’t deserve it and
(B) couldn’t do anything about it but bleed and sit there bewildered, humiliated and alone and
(C) further add to his pain by taking everything of value in his possession, stripping him naked, and letting some ugly drunk annoying bitch slap him open palmed across his face while he’s on his back just didn’t sit well with me.
and the poor guy took it like a champ. he didn’t defend himself (which was probably smart in this instance because this was a bear that you had to play dead against for sure. so yeah he didn’t defend himself but he also didn’t bring further dishonor to himself by crying, pissing or moaning.
two things resonated strongly with me.
1. the images of parsons mugging for the camera before the humiliation began and then creeping up and start digging through the guys pockets like it was a big joke. i really hated that.
2. that ugly chick wearing her panties with her big old ass all drunk grinding on the guy before it all started and then when he was down on his back she’s there standing behind his head and starts slapping in his face HARD and he can’t even see where these blows are coming from because she is standing behind his head. that was particularly cowardly and thinking about it right now gets my blood boiling.
you asked me what was different about this video as opposed to the many other millions of videos that are out there on the internet. I am going to answer that with a post i did on some girls from a sorority at bowling green who were tragically killed in a car accident a few weeks ago. my answer is obvious.
I’m not too sure how the Encyclopedia Dramatica does it. Their entries all have hundreds of links to all sorts of interesting and exciting content. I can’t imagine how fucking long it takes them to write each of their posts. Kudos to them. Although I can’t claim to know a quarter of the shit about the internet that they do and therefore I am often lost trying to keep up with what they are talking about, starting with any one of their entries is a good fucking way to get fucking lost in internet hell for a day. Or longer. The internet, the real internet, wow….it’s truly a scary place full of hidden gems and content galore and if you don’t have control over yourself (and I don’t) then you can easily find yourself losing whole chunks of time basically doing nothing except filling your head up with knowledge, theories, half assed suppositions, biased reporting on demented and seldom heard of topics, gore and death with a sprinkling of funny, feel good shit but mostly a lot of sex and death to be honest. Okay, so I’m reading the paragraph I just typed out and imagining all of the different psycho locations I could take you guys on just by linking to the words I’ve written and it comes over me that I have quite a bit of power in these attractive hands of mine. If you have read this far then that means I’ve got you on the hook and really its up to me not you where that hook can take you. Do you want to go to heaven or hell? Would you rather get the hell part over with while you are on this mostly hellish planet or do you want to forego all the suffering and experience divinity firsthand while still alive? Good question you say. Or maybe you don’t who really gives a fuck? I don’t because I know that I don’t even have one true fan of my rambling writing. Nope there isn’t even one person out there that can honestly say that they can’t wait for my next post, or that they have read everything I have ever written. Nobody could pass even a simple trivia test based on the many posts that have preceded this one. I don’t even think I could. After all, I was higher then a kite for the majority of the posts on this website and I have never really had the time to go back through and read over every single one of them. I’m not a professional blogger. I don’t get paid jack shit for writing this. I can’t even tell you why I bother writing this (we’re back again to NOBODY GIVES A RAT’S ASS) blog. I know its not fresh or hip or cool. I know I sound like a fool and a tool and most of you wish I would drown in a pool or fall off my stool. Lame. All of it. Lame. The same. Shame. Fame is something I will never get. Yet I seek it. Couldn’t even tell you why but I assume the answer begins with the buzzword Narcissism. Okay listen I’m sorry for sounding so stupid in this paragraph. I’m going to stop with the stupid now and tell you guys a good story . So if you’ve somehow risen above (whatever that means) and made it to this point of this story then you are in luck because you are about to get a true story from the archives of my life.
Early morning and my mind is fresh. Let’s get started on People Who Died: Roll Call. Please note that my idea for this set of stories is to basically make a list of everyone that I have ever personally known who has died. I’m thinking it would be nice to give a few details about each person, including the circumstances surrounding their departures from Planet Earth and maybe even something about what they meant to me and how they have helped shape me into the stellar ghetto superstar that I am today. Please don’t judge anyone on this list based on my ghetto ass life lol because that’s not fair is it?!?
I’m doing this in no particular order and solely out of my memory so I’m not going to guarantee 100% accuracy.
Rick Primero was my friend that I met when I went to La Sierra Academy in Riverside, California. I attended for one semester during my sophomore year of high school. La Sierra Academy was a 7th Day Adventist school that my parents decided to send me to in an effort to get some help turning my rebellious life around. Rick Primero was Filipino and he lived in Riverside with his brother Sam and his parents. The whole family was very nice and I’m pretty sure Sam is now a doctor. Rick was totally cool and pretty much of a rebel, especially for a 7th Day Adventist. I don’t know if you know anything about that religion but trust me they are stricter then shit about everything. They don’t drink coffee or tea, use tobacco, drink alcohol or work on Sundays. The girls are hot however and quite promiscuous all things considered. Being a handsome young rebellious outsider, I did very well with the ladies at La Sierra Academy. I must have tallied six or seven girls that one semester I attended and I’m pretty sure my reputation with the daughters of all those rich doctors who sent their kids there was one of the big reasons I wasn’t invited back to attend my second semester despite my 4.0 gpa (all A’s). Another reason may have been the trouble I seemed to continuously get in with Rick Primero. We smoked marijuana, we sniffed paint, we smoked cigarettes, we drank, we were loud and probably disrespectful to our teachers. When I started at La Sierra Academy, Rick started to really get into trouble. I didn’t lead him down the path to teenage rebellion believe me. He was already there but I think my presence which was always a topic of discussion both on and off of campus naturally led people to take a closer look at Rick as Rick was my main cohort at school. We hung out quite a bit and I’d say that we were pretty much best friends that year. Rick was a smart guy and he had a good heart. He also had a thing for my sister Natalie, I found out later. One pertinent bit of information to consider is that Rick and I were involved in a motorcycle accident one Saturday afternoon about a block from his house. We were riding his father’s GullWing, a huge bike. We lost control and laid it down on the street. I scraped up my leg and ass something fierce and still have a numb spot after all of this time. Once I left La Sierra Academy I was on a one way trek to hell. Two months into the second semester of school that year while attending Corona High School I was arrested, sent to juvenile hall and ultimately ended up as a ward of the court and put into a boy’s home until I turned 18. I lost contact with Rick Primero during this time for obvious reasons. Guys didn’t usually write letters to other GUYS when in custody and we sure didn’t have access to cell phones or internet because neither of those things existed back then. I did however stay in contact with this girl Tami Zane who was a really good friend of mine from La Sierra Academy. When I was close to getting out of the boys home I received a letter from Tami informing me that Rick had been killed in an accident in Los Angeles while driving his Honda Elite scooter. He was dragged under a truck and broke every bone on the left side of his body. One of our other friends from school, also with the first name of Rick, last name Porter, was on the back of the bike when the accident happened and he flew into a telephone pole and broke his back but survived and as far as I know he is not crippled or anything like that. Tami picked me up and took me to Rick’s funeral which was really sad. It was an open coffin and I remember just tripping out on how swollen he looked. Also his left hand looked really fucked up and scraped and it looked like they did their best to kind of hide that hand. One thing I remember is Rick’s dad speaking at the funeral and the last thing he said was “See you in the morning son” while tears were streaming down his face. One more little tidbit about Rick Primero was that I heard he left Los Angeles that night and was on the way to my parents house in Corona, California to visit my sister Natalie. She’s the one who told me that.
Victor Cornelius was my Granny Brenda’s cousin who lived at her house in Garden Grove when I was a kid. I thought he was kind of mean but I found out from my granny that he actually really thought I was a good kid who needed guidance and that was the reason he was a bit hard on me. He had one fucked up withered ass looking monkey hand. I think it was his left hand. What happened is that when he was younger and living in Trinidad he stuck his arm out the window while in a car and another car hit it somehow and just basically smashed the shit out of it. He died of cancer when I was maybe 16. He was pretty old and stuff. I called him Uncle Victor but he wasn’t really my uncle. He was more like a cousin or some shit like that, only three or four times removed. That’s pretty much all I have to say about my Uncle Victor. He was a pretty alright fellow and I think he told me some pretty cool stories here and there when he wasn’t all grumpy and shit.
Margaret Savage was the mother of a guy I went to elementary school with named Patrick Savage. We went to St. Edwards, a catholic school in Corona, California. Details are a bit fuzzy for me but I know that we had some sort of connection with Margaret Savage whether it was because she babysat my sister Natalie and I after school some days or because we used to car pool with them a couple days a week. It was definitely one of those two things for sure. Anyways, I remember her as a nice lady, although she sometimes got mad at us kids for fucking around too much. She died in a horrific car accident while I was still a kid. Something happened involving her car and an 18 wheeler truck I’m pretty sure. I think it was in Chino, Calfornia on the 71 which is really just a overblown street masquerading as a highway at this time (in the 80’s). I’m not sure the exact details but I heard that she got dragged somehow behind the truck and got totally mangled in the accident. Like bad. Pretty sad. I remember tripping out a little when I heard and feeling real bad for Patrick. I’m pretty sure Patrick started getting into trouble after his mom died but don’t quote me on that.
Joe Bayne was my Grandpa Archie’s brother who died like in 1913 at the age of 14 or so. I didn’t know him personally and I realize I am breaking my own rule on this one but I thought he should be mentioned because he died so young and because of the cirucumstances surrounding his death and because for many years I had a picture of him, dead, at this funeral on a table surrounded by white flowers, with socks on, his hands crossed and his eyes closed. I don’t have too many details about him except I do know that they were playing cricket and someone hit the ball on top of this building in Trinidad where they lived. Joe Bayne climbed up on the building and fell backwards from a long distance and broke his neck and died. Like I said he was my grandfather’s brother and I was extremely close to my grandfather and I just have always felt a certain affinity with Joe Bayne. I’ve dabbled in doing some art work using that picture I had forever (that I gave back to my Aunty Dorothy a couple of years ago). I also have scanned that picture in at at an extremely high resolution and cleaned it up on Photoshop and blew it up to try and see more details about him, how he looked, what he was wearing when they held that wake at his parents house and other little details I thought may have been hidden from view the casual person who glanced at the photo. This was a few years ago and I don’t remember having any important revelations appear to me so I’ll leave the story of Joe Bayne right there.
Megan Toughill was a beautiful and very cool girl that I knew in the punk rock scene in Orange County. I’m not even gonna lie, I wanted to hook up with her for years lol. She was totally fucking hot and had a rad attitude. I always used to see her at punk rock shows and I’d give her a hug and stuff. I actually knew her sister Erin better then her. Erin Toughill is pretty famous actually. She’s a beautiful girl too and she’s an MMA fighter. She’s even fought Laila Ali in a professional boxing match. I’m pretty sure she lost to Ali but other then that she has kicked all sorts of chick’s asses. I know Erin because she used to be boyfriend/girlfriend with my friend Mike Robarge and one time I went to San Francisco for the weekend with Mike’s band, Scarred for Life, a gnarly hardcore punk bank that had Ray Gunn as singer, one of my best friends Steve Stearns as drummer, this gnarly fucking guitarist Clyde Abad and Mike Robarge also doing guitar and this dude Crischarge. Shit that weekend was back in like 98 so I’ve known Erin and Megan for years. I haven’t talked to Erin in awhile and of course Megan died. She got in a gnarly fucking car accident on the freeway one night in September, 2004 I forgot the exact date but it was a gnarly fucking tragedy. I actually cried when I heard about it. It was that sad. She was a totally gorgeous chick and apparently the accident was fucked up and gruesome because she got evicted from her car. So, yeah, I wasn’t happy to say the least to hear about the passing of Megan Toughill. A few weeks after her death I moved to Australia and didn’t come back for five years except for once for Christmas.
Joel Brown was a fat, ugly, pimply faced dude that I was in Riverside Juvenile Hall with in 1985. Him and this dude Joe Bibby (who I was also in juvie with) had gone to rob this drug dealer dude in Corona. I think the dude’s name was Mike. Mike’s mom got her hair cut by my mom so I heard alot about this case. Anyways Joel Brown decided to shoot Mike in the head during the course of robbing him, much to the suprprise of Joe Bibby. Joel Brown was a fat piece of shit. He was held in solitary confinement and pretty quickly it was decided that he would be tried as an adult and he was transferred to Riverside County Jail. I remember that he was happy he was getting transferred because county jail inmates were still allowed to smoke cigarettes back then but not the minors at Riverside Juvenile Hall so he was happy to be going. Well I’m pretty sure he wasn’t too happy about a year or two later when he was in prison serving out his 15 – life sentence for second degree murder and he got killed himself. Good riddance to a piece of crap. Joe Bibby, who I did actually like and I know for a fact had no idea that any murder shit was going to take place ended up going to California Youth Authority and I don’t know what happened to him after that. I did see him once a couple years later on the outside and he seemed fine. Hopefully he has stayed out of trouble since then.
Mike “Maddog” Combs was a guitarist for a punk band I have been seeing for years named the Cadillac Tramps. He was an awesome fucking guitarist and seemed like a really cool dude. I heard that he was sober for years, he lived in Los Angeles somewhere. I didn’t know him personally, like as a friend or anything. Let me explain. I had a daughter with this girl Heather Batchelder. A couple of years after Ciara’s birth, Heather and I were having massive relationship issues to say the least. Anyways, one day I went on her hotmail account that I had set up for her a few years earlier and one that she had never changed the original password on. In her inbox was an email from her friend Tamara Cross with the subject line RE: Love in an Elevator. Before I even opened it up I knew what it was. At this time I was working a temporary Senior Accountant position for Ultramar Oil Company in Downtown Long Beach and I was at work when I read this email. It was also a Friday. I remember that for sure. The email was a reply from Tamara to Heather and it was all about this incident where Heather had fucked this dude Maddog in an elevator in a building in LA after a Cadillac Tramps show. Man oh man that was a sickening email to read lol. Dammit. It was the beginning of a new chapter in my life for sure let me tell you. I was pretty fat at the time and the very next day I started running. Within 60 days max, I had lost all of the extra pounds (about 45) and I was starting to look like the sexy motherfucker that I was. So anyway, yeah the maddog was Mike Combs. I didn’t hold it against him personally in the slightest. It wasn’t his fault. To be honest, it wasn’t her fault either. I had let my life go, my looks go and I was basically a drunk, coke sniffing piece of shit at that time. It was a well needed wakeup call for me. A few years later, I moved to Australia (coincidentally right around the time Megan passed away) and I remember I wan’t in Australia more then two or three months when Heather told me about Maddog. I was bummed out to hear about it. I am not too sure exactly what happened but I know that he was found dead in Vail, Colorado while snowboarding. This was in December of 2004 I believe. I don’t know if he had an accident or if he suffered some sort of seizure or heart attack or something. All I know is that he passed away doing something he loved and there is something to be said for that. I’m pretty sure he was about 43. Sad story and untimely end for a talented guy who just so happened to fuck my chick a few times lol. But its all good…..
Okay this is getting to be really long I just noticed that its approaching 3000 words so maybe I will cut this one off here. I have many many many people whose stories I want to tell so stay tuned for the next episode. Hopefully nobody gets offended by this subject. I’m not doing it to be disrespectful (except maybe to Joel Brown). In my mind I’m honoring people who have affected my life by saying their names and something about them so people will never forget them.
I love it when the pulpit comes out. The cliches start rolling. The condemnation for a lifestyle that doesn't fit into the status quo.
Stumbling, slurring, lunatic drunk family members start preaching to me about drugs and the room fills up with contempt on one side and blah blah blah hypocrisy on the other.
Put it in front of me and I will take it, subtly twist it and give it back to you in ways you can't imagine. Smile to my face, pity me while you throw me to the wolves. Join a bandwagon of some kind.
How about the "Get a Job you Lazy Bum" Bandwagon? That sounds as good as any to me. Don't dare to practice tolerance. Be rigid. Think inside the box little person. I give you the sense that I don't think at all. Little do you know that all I do is think.
No time in this life for me to be bitter, as for the hypocrisy I see, you see, it takes a hypocrite to know a hypocrite and surely I'm not as stupid as you pretend that I am.
Talk in your hushed whipsers. Pretend that I am only a child who can't be trusted with sharp knives. Delude yourself into thinking that I'm incapable of caring for myself. Its okay.
I'm not angry in fact I deserve all the recriminations that you can wad up and throw at me. Hit me with your best shot I've already shown myself I can take it. Take it and take it and take it some more and still wake up with a smile on my face and in my untainted heart.
My soul is intact despite what my eyes have seen, my ears have heard. Despite the bridges by the dozen that my larcenous treacherous gambling brain has burned to the ground. Its a big world.
I'm a sinner but not a mortal sinner. I'm bad but I'm not evil. Although the road to hell is paved with good intentions, my personal road to salvation is still in front of me along with my dreams.
Grace is remarkable. God is truly amazing. Enigmatic pretty verily sums up so many things.
There is no black nor white for me on most issues there are varying shades of grey. I'm crazy but in a good way.
I'm not repenting from death row I haven't killed anyone you see. My sins run to the petty variety. Sure there are plenty of them that is without a doubt a true statement. Paper cuts if you will. I've inflicted an untold number of paper cuts on everyone I've ever come in contact with but more so to myself.
I'm not depressed although I often get frustrated.
Sunny days I feel His grace and I know that I am a loved child of God. Goddammit I take that name in vain its wrong but He's strong and I tend to be foolish at times.
I haven't grown up yet you see.
Experience is a folly for the soft but I've got mettle.
Shedding my stubborn ways embracing the flexibility I should have embraced years ago but why look back in anger? What will that get done for you? Not much to be sure not much.
Let the haters hate they always will. I gossip too and bandwagon jump and lack the courage of my convictions
but I've suffered you see and I've survived and when push comes to shove
I will have something good to die for you see its making it beautiful to live.
Future and time and dreams ahead and it will all come to pass the way it should come to pass and if you doubt me then doubt me I couldn't care less it hurts me for a bubble eyed goldfish second then I move on unscathed.
It's not revenge I seek nor do I wish to shove my future miracles in your face because you can't be blamed for doubting me I doubt myself don't you see but experience and the heaviest sense of destiny tell me sing to me preach to me pound into me like a nail that there is more to my existence.
I was put here for a reason and its not as a lesson of what not to do or how not to act. I've been foolish but I'm not a fool. I'm a clown but not like John Wayne Gacy or Pennywise from IT.
Maybe at the end of the day I will give people something to believe in. Maybe I will restore faith in the inherent goodness that I still believe exists in the world despite the many shining example of "People you'll see in hell". Those are lost souls and I don't know why and I care about the victims but i don't care about the motherfucking bastards that are featured in that website. Don't know how they got that way and its not up to me to explain or lose my faith in that goodness I just referred to.
Its there and I'm humble enough to pray that the grace that has kept me going this long doesn't fizzle out or erode like the good will I usually encounter then lose with the humans that I push pull bend twist demand annoy and ultimately lose as good will ambassadors in my saga.
My life is littered with them and its all my fault but my journey is not done and someway someday I'm going to pick up a couple passengers that are going to see this thing through with me.
Right to the very end.
I'll cry in the face of unswerving unbending uncompromising loyalty but they will be tears of joy.
For now like Ella's mother once told me I will just think of you all bathed in a pool of white light.
Stream of consciousness fades for today.
Good day lovely day hold the sun in my hands today.
There is a funny video of Woody and Anthony Mandich one summer day in 2010 that I wanted to post on here. It’s like 5:20 a.m. and I really wanted to post the videos directly on my blog here but it can’t be done without a large payment which sucks shit. Unfortunately Woody is no longer with us which somewhat pisses me off.
What does he do? He was one of my very good friends, and I missed him when he left Trinidad
he putters like a putterer and he smokes crystal methamphetamines on a daily basis. nobody knows the terrible horrible shocking bewildering astonishing capitvating exciting delicious decadent twisted maniacal truth about the man they know as UNCLE G
i love how my statements often cause people to just disregard them entirely out of having nothing tangible to reply with so therefore they start talking about something else in an effort to change the subject. harden up man
by the way its damn. not dam. a dam is a structure employed to hold back water. damn is an expletive and has multiple meanings.