Saturday, April 10, 2010

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Occam's razor

Look it up.

This is it from me for a while.

See you in court.


Janna...who the hell are you talking to? Martha Stewart? You do realize that it's easy to check to see if anyone's talking to you on Twitter, and nobody's asking you any of the questions you're pretending to answer.

Oh, by the way, I've seen a more recent photo of you, and you're right, you've probably lost about what, 50 or 60 pounds? Only another 100 to go till you're back to your original weight before that tragic rape in the cornfield. Too bad you're still ugly on the inside.


A little snippet from a contest blog, about a month ago.

You "haven't made a pendant in forever." Besides for this contest, and of course the ones you keep getting positive feedback for on Etsy. Don't lie if there's incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. Janet.

Friday, April 2, 2010

it ain't over till the fat lady tweets

Janna -

You are a creative typist as opposed to a writer because you use the same situations, the same stories, the same bullshit, over and over. So, get it: the first Judith Krantz book might elicit an emotional response from a novice reader, but upon reading successive books, it becomes quite clear that her talents are VERY limited. Self-plagiarization taken to extremes, formulaic twaddle, and the boldness to make the story incredibly outlandish and convoluted.

So yeah, you may have a hook, but you're a hack. The Brian De Palma of con artists.

(and since you know how much cinema means to me, you know that's a fuckin' insult)

I know you write for you. I'm sure you get off on every person that responds "oh, your story touched my heart and made me cry."

Next time you're in "mixed company," why don't you try this one out: "I'm a sad, fat, twisted old lady with limited talents and an unhealthy obsession with child molestation, who spends her time in internet chatrooms pretending I'm a woman and/or man with a dead son and/or boyfriend." Let's see who laughs at that, especially if Barbara, David, Bill, Marie, Jan, Jenny, Jessica and Dan are in the room.

and another thing wanna get into this, Janna?

Lookit what folks stumbled upon.

Second one down. Four days before you posted the exact same thing on your own Twitter account. Don't bother deleting it, it's already been saved for posterity. Duh.

You wanna know what else folks found? You wanna see more?

If not, then G.O. A.W.A.Y. You lost this one.

P.S. Congratulations on the uni-chin, if you're not lying about that too. What're you down to now, have you hit the 200 lb mark yet? And clearly whatever ails you ain't keeping you from using Twitter an awful lot to make a half-assed attempt to defend yourself, so duping people on the Johnny Weir board and Twitter and Facebook with your sad sack story is just child's play to you (just cut and paste and change the name from Dan to Jesse to Denali). And you're still making/selling your art glass trinkets on Etsy, as ArchipelagoArts and janarchy, hell, you're even entering contests on blogs for people to win your fucking trinkets, so, you can't be that blind.

You're losing it, chica. Call a waaaaahmbulance.

P.S. When you talk about "your" tweets, you might want to double check that it was "Janet Wilder" and not the REAL you who said something before you assert that the real you would never say that. The Christopher Walken comment, f'rinstance. QED. You can't even keep your selves straight. Dipshit.

P.P.S. The point of you pretending to be someone else is that "they" can do things that you cannot. Like just about anything, so of course all the things they say they do you cannot do. Bein' my point.

P.P.P.S. Didn't even realize you had a Twitter account in your real name till just an hour ago, though. It probably only popped up on Google search now because you're posting like fuck.

Thursday, April 1, 2010


So, this has brought some people out of the woodwork, and I'm happy about that, and some conversations have brought up some extra stuff.

1. I think we need a name, all us people who were conned by Janet Wilder -- sorry -- Janna Hopper St. James Saint James Priggie. Nothing with her name in it, nor anything to do with Irish llama musicians. I was thinking that we're sort of shaping up as the Moriarty to Janna's Schlock Homes, so maybe that.

2. From my conversations with, you know, us up there, the Moriartys, a constant of Janna's big bamboozle is to store up every personal revelation from her target for future ammunition to embarrass and belittle and demean them. She's like a fucking elephant. And it doesn't matter how many years have gone by, she'll drag out that drunken admission by you that you used to think Don Johnson was hot, that you sing Celine Dion songs in the shower, or that you wouldn't kick John Boehner out of bed. But it's funny what pops up about Janna when we converse. So, Janna, you'd better chill, or I might divulge some stuff you don't want people to know about you, your family and the few women that you've managed to keep as your friends all these years, as well as what you really think of them.

And think on this, too: I'm smarter than you. I know stuff about you you don't know I know. Picture a couple dozen angry women who are also smarter than you. I'll give credit where credit is due - you know how to pick 'em, you've got good taste in dupes. I like every single person whose path you crossed, they're intellectuals, and funny! But mostly smart. And happy to contribute to the cause of making it as difficult for you to do this to anyone else again.

So next time you're talking to someone online, when you're sizing them up to see if you can work your sick magic on them, you'd better ask yourself: does this person already know who I am? Because, we might, "janarchy" - kiss kiss.

3. One of the people who reached out to me here was a woman who was a Deadwood board lurker, who'd been following "Jesse's" blog. She contacted me after his "death" from "liver cancer," because she had been fighting her own constant battle with cancer herself. Her name was Kelly, and she gave me the link to her blog. We chatted a bit, and became friendly, keeping in touch every month or so. After the Janna debacle, because I was damaged and paranoid, I found it difficult to trust Kelly, but I'd pop in now and again to read her posts and to comment, but forced myself to be detached. She understood. Well, she's dead now. For realz. Her family posted after and like a normal dead person, there were actual obituaries and a place to send notes and flowers. It's sad that I blew what could have been a good friendship with a funny woman who looked her illness in the eye and managed to still see joy and beauty in the world. And I'm sorry she's gone.