to erase any doubt

Way back in May 2006, when "Jesse" was emerging from his own personal soap-opera-like hell, Janna and her best friend Annie Martel, who had once been "Jesse's" therapist, took him on a Memorial Day vacation to Beaver Island in Lake Michigan. After "Jesse" died, Annie posted this on his tribute blog.

Worth the Wait

My name is Annie and Jesse and I spent some time together figuring things out. I'll have some more things to offer about him once I determine what the boundaries are. I didn't know him like the rest of you did. I knew him in solely a clinical sense until Memorial Day of this year, mere weeks ago. At that time he was tired of talking about himself and his "little miseries," "all the time." So I dropped my guard and headed out into a social situation with Jesse and some friends.

The benefit for me was complete. I saw him as whole person for the first time, not just the sum total of his traumas. Of course I knew he was special, but there were moments that imbedded in me just how exceptional he was outside my office or a hospital room. I watched him entertain dozens of children in a skateboard park while fireworks fell behind them. I ate his delicious cooking. I watched him swim in big water with three horses he'd just met. I've been around horses for 35 years but would have never attempted that. He was a horse whisperer. A dog whisperer. A llama whisperer. A fire whisperer. A child whisperer. A people in general whisperer. 

One of the things that struck me the most was the fact I never really saw Jesse smile until that time we spent away from the office. I'd seen his famous wry smile. His famous devilish smile. I'd seen his sad little resolved smile. But never a full, easy, natural grin. Until that time we spent together in "the free world." Then there it was. All over the place. A 1000 watt smile. I chose to capture it with my camera phone. I don't really know how to use my camera phone. It took three people to get the picture from there to here, but here it is. Jesse's full, easy, natural smile. We don't know for sure, but we think it might just be the last image ever taken of him. It's just a bad, dark, grainy dinotechno picture phone photo, butI hope so, because in that instant he was comfortable being Jesse.

Isn't that fucking touching? Brings a tear to your eye.

Here's the other part of that story. One photo amongst several that have been sent to me since Janet Hopper's youthful indiscretions were brought to light.

Holy fuckballs. First of all, did EVERYBODY wear jeans in the 70s? Second, yes. That would be a photo of a twentysomething Janna with her husband John M. Ain't they cute?

And it's her psychotic attention to detail, the little embellishments like "We don't know for sure, but we think it might just be the last image ever taken of him." I mean, way to pile it on.

Janna's sleazy deception just gets grosser and grosser with each revelation. "[A] bad, dark, grainy dinotechno picture phone photo" equals "low-rez scan of a decades-old Polaroid which is grainy because I cut myself out of a photo with my husband and blew it up to torment an innocent woman for my own personal gain."

Whoops forgot the "while impersonating John Denver's ex-wife on a tribute blog to someone who didn't exist."

Happy New Year!

uh, hi there, Reddit people

You guys are cracking me up.

A few things:

1. keep in mind that six* years ago Skype was being used for work conference calls and that was about it. No computers with built in cameras. I had an iSight for my Mac, but "Jesse" had a work laptop with no camera. MySpace was on my radar during the tail end of this stupid saga, but not Facebook. The internetz was not as sophisticated as it is now, you doggone kids. I'll bet most of you were still in high school when "Jesse" first contacted me six* years ago.

2. "butthurt weenus" is the funniest phrase I've heard this year. So thanks for that.

3. Janna managed to do this to people she knew BEFORE the internet. Face to face. "Hey, I have a friend you'd really like - you should be penpals!" Bitch is ballsy. She's been deceiving people, in person and then online, for thirty years. THIRTY YEARS. At least eight people that I've spoken with personally, not counting anyone involved in the "Jesse" deception.

4. Janna's description of herself on her blog was only added after my friends exposed her. Doy. Give me a little credit.

5. I'd be happy to do an AMA, but I think this blog probably answers all your questions.

EDITED TO ADD:

6. Yeah, the money thing. I was surprised it added up to $10k, but when you're buying little gifts for someone, and also Christmas gifts for their friends and family, over the course of a year and a half, that shit adds up. That amount, though, also includes a plane ticket I never got to use because "Jesse" was indisposed when I was going to use it, as well as hefty cancellation fees for a hotel I booked that I was going to be meeting "Jesse" at.  But seriously, you people who are getting lulz out of this. Read this shit before you judge, okay? All I ask.

* edited because I realize it was six (holy fuckballs!) years ago. Not five. Sigh.

P.S.

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.

and another thing

...you 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.

Addendum

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.

gotcha

So, about once a month, I get an email, or someone posts a comment that says "I think I may have spotted Janna on such-and-such message board," or "I know someone who knows someone who may have gotten scammed by Janna," or, worst of all "I fear I may have been scammed by Janna." I ask them to give me whatever details they've got, and sometimes it's pretty clear it WAS Janna, but she's had time to cover her tracks, so there's little tangible going on.

This time, her scam got nipped in the bud PDQ, before she could do any serious emotional damage to her new targets. Yay! And...she was fast, but not fast enough to wipe away all the proof. Double yay.

Here we go. Keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times.

She pretended to be someone called "Janet Wilder," who was legally blind, who had a son who died two years ago at age 23. She insinuated herself on a message board for Johnny Weir, the figure skater, and, well, let's let her tell her own story.



"But Ephemerina," I hear you say, "how can you be sure this is Janna? Lots of people lose loved ones to cancer."

Well, dear readers, read on.



That's right, all the little "tells" - her fake masters' in psychology, Elvis fucking Presley yet again, and yet another tedious 70s band that really nobody gives a rat's ass about in this new millennium.

Still, I hear you say "it could just be a coinkydink, maybe you're just so paranoid you see Janna everywhere."

Well, doubting Thomases and Thomasinas, take a gander at this:



Nothing interesting to read, but holy cats! look at the avatar. It's those goddamned trinkets she makes.

"But Ephemerina!" you whine. "I really think it's just a whole load of coincidences. Just because reading this crap gave you a hinky feeling, lots of people make those shitty trinkets, and really, it could just have been that this ghostwriter person BOUGHT these trinkets, maybe even from Janna herself, after all this person is in Chicago too."

Christ, you folks are a pain in the ass sometimes.

Further poking around led me to a Twitter account, which confirmed a hunnert percent that this freakazoid was indeed nobody other than Janna Hopper Saint James St James Priggie. She had a Twitter account called WilderThinger, and she deleted it virtually moments after I read it. Way to go, lady. If nothing else woulda confirmed it, that sure as shit did.

However....

Because I nabbed her so soon after her outing, there was lotsa stuff still in Google's cache. Ha fucking ha ha.



That lady in the pic, the one who clearly doesn't know how to act her age? That tye-dyed twat, well, that is absolutely Janna. The looking up at the camera to disguise her chins, you just know she loves this photo.

But, the best thing was, her Twitter account came up with so many other leads. Like her Twitter name before it was WilderThinger.



Jesus tapdancing Christ, on and on with the goddamned crab thing.

It's all gone now, because one thing Janna knows how to do is cover her considerable ass. And I'm sure she's got another scam or two on the trot, with yet more Twitter accounts, so she won't be lonely. After all, pretending to be different people, well that's just like trying on a new pair of shoes, isn't it, Janna? Of course, in Janna's case, the shoes are often steel-toed jackboots, leaving people crushed in her wake.

But not this time. Not this time, Janet, you cunt. This time you got nailed just as you were casting your net. Because you've fucked with too many people over three decades who are not afraid to talk about how you fucked with them, and they've got an awful lot of friends. And there are an obscene amount of people who are Harlan Ellison and Josh Olson fans (and Styx fans too, judging from my data, go figure). All of that adds up to quite the anti-Munchausen-by-internet army, people determined to stop your nonsense by exposing you sooner rather than later.

This is the kind of result I was hoping for. I'm ecstatic that this blog has managed to save at least a small group of people from further heartache by this succubus. Today's a good day.

And Janna? Fuck you very much, from all of us.

...

Funny thing

I've been meaning to do a quick update for some time now, but wouldn't you know it, I've actually been super busy with my real life and chuffed that the blog for my fledgling company gets six times the amount of hits that this site gets. And this site gets a load, although many of them are searches for some other Janna, something to do with sexy times (one would imagine these seekers are flying solo). Then again, who knows, maybe it is the same Janna. She seems to like inflicting sexy times onto her unknowing targets. But my e-comm website, they're all there for ME, man! Yay!

So, anyway, real life intrudes upon the mess Janna made of my past real life. Hence, the quick update turns out to be not so quick.

I think it's important to keep everyone updated, and there ARE a fair amount of people who do check in here, all of them people who knew Janna Saint James Priggie in one of her many masks. This fact is, for me, double-edged. Part of my soul feels bolstered at having these comrades-in-arms, it makes me feel a little less gullible/stupid, because I see how convincing she can be, even in person and not over the intertubes. The other part of my soul feels gutted at knowing other people have been cut to the quick by her, and that even my lawsuit against her hasn't curtailed her impersonation activities one iota.

So let's start with the lawsuit. It's been going on since February 2008 (oh lawsy, almost two years). It's been, I kid you not, to-ing and fro-ing with complaints and responses in a Goldilocks & the Three Bears fashion, where the first complaint wasn't detailed enough, the second was too detailed, mere technicalities, etc etc and really it's just all about delaying it so I run out of money (or patience). There were issues with the judge retiring and a new fella taking his place, more delays and catching up.

Janna's lawyer kept making oblique overtures about Janna's insurance company making some kind of settlement offer for amounts in the neighborhood of $15,000. What the what? Insurance? What kind of insurance covers you against fraud and defamation? I'll have to check my policy, because I'm pretty sure I don't have that in mine. If someone breaks into my car, sure, I'll get reimbursed up to a grand, I think. But fraud? Wow, Batavia's got some comprehensive insurance plans. But who even thinks of getting coverage for this, unless you're already afraid of getting sued for fraud and defamation? WhatEVS. I said thanks, but no thanks.

So, the past almost-two years has been spent just trying to secure a trial. It's cost me a pretty penny, and it's a good thing I have vintage couture up the wazoo, because it's become my Janna Prosecution Fund. Just before Christmas, the new judge orally dismissed the case with prejudice (a tersely scrawled order followed, no actual reason given).

I'm appealing, of course, and don't worry, Goldilocks, we'll draft a complaint that the new judge deems just riiight. But I just did want to put down for the record that it's not cheap, it's a long and painful process, I've been disappointed by this being a potential deterrent, and there's more of the same to come. But...

Janna may have kicked my paranoia into permanent high gear and mangled my trusting nature, but I still have hope that I will emerge from this with the law on my side. My lawyer likes setting precedents, and I still have an assload of vintage, so I'm in this for the long haul.

And that gets me into the next part, now that you know where we are legally. Janna and what she does.

She did this in the late 70s/early 80s, with the band Styx. She convinced many people that she was the beloved of Tommy Shaw, the lead singer of Styx. Before the internet, when it was harder to be faceless. But she was good, nay, great with the letters. I've seen these letters, about darling "Janny," as she was known back then, going on tour with the band. Even then she managed to get the letters postmarked from cities other than her own. Funny how Tommy seemed to exhibit nearly identical symptoms to "Jesse" and blow me if they didn't have identical handwriting too! I'll post Exhibit A here later, when I pull the scans off my external drive.

I'd like to add that I do not believe for a moment any of the things she has alleged about Tommy Shaw, or Dan Fogelberg, or, well, other people she at least had the sense to fabricate after that (except for poor Anne Martel).

So Jan or Jann or Janny or Janet or Janna Saint James St. James or Hopper or Priggie or god knows what has been doing little riffs on this abused/bipolar/suicidal/drugtaking theme for over thirty years. And maybe longer, because lord knows who's gonna get in touch with me in the future. And she's still doing it. I know. People have gotten in touch with me.

So, Janna, some suggestions as to how to keep yourself from being so easily exposed (or found). Things you need to avoid/change to better fool your marks/avoid those you've already burned:

1. Quit with the letter J. Why limit yourself? Call your alter ego something that begins with a different letter, fer chrissake. Baby steps - try the letter K. Krista Kelly Knudson. There ya go. Because, Jessica Jillian James? Really? Really? Jesus Jucking Jhrist, lady.

2. Stop dying of cancer. Try dying of a heart attack, I know it's less drawn-out and you can't milk that as much, but think of the surprise factor that your other alter egos can then capitalize on. And being bipolar is so last decade. Try having Tourettes. Or narcolepsy. That would be good, because then you could combine it and you could die in a horrendous car accident because your narcolepsy kicked in while you were driving. What are the odds? ZOMG!

3. Your obsession with being molested. Stop that. It trivializes what real abuse victims have to deal with.

4. Ditto your obsession with dead children. It trivializes the pain that women who have really lost children have to deal with.

5. And violent rape, in a cornfield or otherwise. It trivializes ... you get my drift. And if you must persist in this lie, at least stop making your assailants Mexican. It's racist. and repetitive.

6. Find another outlet besides #5 above to blame your obesity on. Like maybe Pizzeria Uno. Or Hot Pockets.

7. Llamas, sheep, horses, or any other livestock. A no no.

8. Guys in bands. Seriously. You have to stop saying you were the beloved of/bore the dead child of guys in bands. Especially the bands you chose. In fact, stay away from the topic of music altogether. You know next to nothing about music, and left to your own devices, your taste SUCKS. So, try lawyers or doctors instead. Be the ex of F. Lee Bailey, or Christian Barnard. It'll make you seem smarter, at least.

9. Super-insane fractured families in which all the participants hate each other. Try drawing from a family life other than your own.

10. Stop talking about Dr. Hunter Thompson as if you knew him. If there's anyone that'd transcend the afterlife to kick your ass for demeaning his good name, it's him. Add to that a plea to stop mentioning Ted Bundy, because eeeewwww.

11. Find a new trinket obsession, besides crabs, pirates, skulls, voodoo, mermaids, and the Wizard of Oz. In case you were wondering, you're not one of the good witches. You're the one the house fell on.

12. Stop using ludicrous hippie names for your alter egos. That also means stop pretending you do yoga. A circle can't do a triangle.

13. I don't know what you can use instead of failed suicide attempts; they're just SO convenient in keeping your victims in line, so I guess you can keep this one.

14. Dancing. You. do. not. dance. You can barely walk.

15. Say no to drugs. And multiple personalities.

16. Professions - no more firemen, journalists, EMTs, cowboys, nurses, or teachers. Become something else. Perhaps something more apt - burger flipper, or Wal-Mart greeter.

17. Quit calling yourself a writer. You're a creative typist.


Shit, that's too much for now. I'm sure my list of suggestions could go on and on. But it's a start. If my suing Janna didn't stop her from pulling this shit to date, at least she shouldn't make it so easy for people to figure out who she is.

So, that's it for now.

...what really kills me...

It's been three years since my dog died. Which means three years since "Jesse" died. And nearly three since Janna St. James Priggie's scam was exposed. I should be clearer and point out that the scam she pulled on ME was exposed. The earlier scams, the one she pulled on the Fogelberg message board folks (not to mention what she did to Anastasia), and the ones she pulled even earlier than that, she was exposed by her victims, too. Luckily for her, though, up till she pwned me, her victims tried simple confrontation, involving various members of her family over the years, and exposure on a small scale, within their group. Clearly didn't work, wouldn't you say? Her entire immediate family knows what she does, has been doing, for decades now. Decades. I'll bet even my lawsuit hasn't made her put the bullshit brakes on.

This crazy lady has been doing this shit to people for AT LEAST THIRTY YEARS. Let that sink in a minute. Janna Saint James has been pretending to know/date people in bands since the birth of disco. What was happening three decades ago? The biggest band in the world was the fucking Bee Gees, and probably the biggest movie star was John Travolta. Ironically, Ted Bundy had finally been captured in Florida. It was Jimmy Carter's first year in the White House. The Sex Pistols were touring. Queen Noor of Jordan had just become Queen Noor of Jordan. Bebe Buell hadn't birthed Liv Tyler. Steve Perry hadn't even joined Journey yet, people! They were still doing nuclear testing in Nevada. Probably many of you reading this hadn't even been born at this point. The internet hadn't even been invented.

Point being, that was a long time ago. Long time. And for all I know, she's been doing it for even longer than that. If she was, I'm sure I'll be hearing from more victims eventually. She didn't need the internet to screw with people's heads - she used baldfaced lies face-to-face with people, forged letters, but the same basic underlying bullshit: mental illness, addictions, firemen, horses, blahdeblah. But the internet, well now, it's so much easier for Janna to pretend to be someone else, in fact, not only someone else, but someone elseS, many many people all at once, and to more than one targeted victim at a time. I'm also not stupid enough to think that she stopped after I popped her Jesse bubble, so no doubt there have been more after me, and although I wish it were otherwise, I'm sure I'll be hearing from them too, eventually.

So, for any browsers that are curious if the person they met online is real, google Munchausen's by Internet and see if that cancer-riddled, bipolar, abuse victim whose gentle soul always seems to rise above their life's challenges exhibits any of the listed traits. Do they flip out when you even vaguely suggest that they might not be everything they say they are? Do they put you on the defensive for even daring to think such a thing?

Look for the red flags, folks. Yes, that person might be the light of your life, you might eventually hook up in the real world, and you will be everything and more to each other. But that person also might be Janna Hopper St. James Saint James Priggie, an obese lunatic senior citizen who is a career emotional vampire who has found her ultimate weapon, the internet, and is wallowing in it like the depraved pig she is.

I think about my beloved dog, who, in the twilight of his years, was deprived of my attention because Janna played her headfuck with me. I will have to live with that guilt always, that I didn't give my pup that extra scritch because I was talking "Jesse" down from one of his many bipolar freakouts. It seems like a small thing, but it's not. I've talked about the squandering of time before, and I cannot stress enough: YOU WILL NOT GET THAT TIME BACK. EVER. So make sure it's worth it. At least make sure this person really truly exists. It may seem embarrassing to have to ask, but in this day and age, would you have sex with someone in the real world without seeing a current HIV test in the negative? Why give someone your valuable time, a chunk of your life, without some sort of hard proof that they really are who they say they are?

Oh, and I'm still doing fine. Thanks for asking.

thanks for the heads-up, sheila

Looks like Janna's back in action, being both Sifl and Olly, perhaps even Chester too.

Pegasus, heh heh heh heh.

busy day

This is it for me, at least until I come up with more proof that I feel like sharing with the world. Readers should check out Janna St. James's blog [ed. note - I removed the link, I won't be party to that, all she wants is attention attention attention], she's still pretending she's the victim. She may be feeling victimized, but for all the crap she's pulled, she's got a long way before she gets to have victim status awarded to her. If ever.

For those Fogelberg fans who were victims of Janna's perfidy, I feel for every single one of you. I don't know how long she strung you along, she hooked me for close to two years. She's good at what she does as long as she's got believers, not so good at covering her tracks when she doesn't. One might say that, like the Ted Bundy she never interviewed, she left little clues because she wanted to get caught. I'm getting lots of questions answered now, but I'm still planning on hitting Aspen (and points south, it appears) to find out more. Time to take a road trip.

Till then, read Janna's blog, if she dares post any further. And she appears to have opened up her comments again, so why not tell her what you think? I did. And just in case she deletes it, here ya go, my response to her "poor victimized me" whining:

Hmmm, are you saying you're not a lying sack of shit?

Still?

Always playing the victim, eh, Janna? God forbid your life ever becomes a vibrant color, because in your life, even beige is evil. Imagine what could happen if you introduce some red.

Why are you frightened? Because people you fucked over are angry with you? Because your lies are all being turned over, inspected, and revealed, one by one? Because your previous fuck-over-ees are coming out of the woodwork and helping me fit pieces of your screwed-up puzzle?

Maybe you should've thought about that before you started your destructive charade.

No kidding you love to write. You wrote thousands of emails in the year you were "Jesse" and all his satellites. When I talked to the fella at the Denver AP office, I told him that although you'd never been employed by them, they might want to think about hiring you, if they need any fiction writing.

And for the record, I don't give a rat's ass if you're alive. I don't want to see you dead, you ridiculous drama queen. I just don't want you fucking up anyone else's life again, ever, and if that means taking an ad out in the Batavia Sun so that your community knows what you are, I can do that.

I'd still prefer an admission of guilt from you, along with proof that you're getting professional help. Failing that, I can promise you I have people working toward making sure that everyone you know, knows who and what you are.

Please note, I'm not anonymous. I don't need to hide behind fake identities to tell you what I think.

a couple more faux-tos

"Jesse" sent me all these photos way back in July 2005. Anyone help me out some?

Here's a photo of the alleged AP office, although what Jesse's llama was doing in Denver, I don't know. The women are, from left to right, Jesse's alleged ex-girlfriend Jennifer, his alleged sister Alice Aloha Toklas James Jameson Kuippfer, and the alleged wife of his doctor friend Bean. I believe the llama's name is Lightfoot. Allegedly.

This is Jesse's alleged ex-wife Krista Andersson James Jameson Blaine.

Now for some photos of Jesse's alleged house.

The alleged desk Jesse wrote all his alleged AP articles at. He liked using a typewriter.

Jesse's alleged music room. Apparently he was standing on top of the piano when he took this photo. The vinyl allegedly belonged to his brother Starshine Saffron James Jameson.

This is Jesse's alleged living room. It's got a greenhouse with a waterfall also. Allegedly.

Here's the llamas in the alleged barn.

Here's the alleged view from Jesse's alleged bed.

Here's Jesse's alleged kitchen.

Here's the view up to Jesse's alleged bedroom and the alleged library.

Cute, isn't it?

Awwwwww, Janna, I'm just funnin' with ya. I know it's Dan Fogelberg's house. Or do you think I somehow managed to retroactively collude with Christie's Great Estates to dress up his house to look like Jesse's? Not Jesse's house, because there never was a Jesse. All you. All your photos, because hello, what would Jesse be doing with photos of Dan Fogelberg's house down in Pagosa Springs, which, strangely enough, is where you lived for a time. What's your issue with Dan Fogelberg, Janna? Did you get to go home with him once back in the 70s, and you brought your little Kodak instamatic to document the event? Did he fuck you and forget you? Or did he reject your advances entirely? You always said mean things about him to me, so I'm inclined to think that you were spurned somehow. Maybe he found out you were lying about him to others, since that seems to be your MO.

You really are a cunt, Janna St. James.

dang

So it turns out that Dan Fogelberg is still battling his cancer. I can't bring myself to throw Janna the emotional cancer at him too, so looks like she's off the hook, Fogelberg-wise, for now. I don't abuse my contacts.

I'd be curious, though, if there are any people out there in Fogelberg-land who've stumbled upon this site, I'd like to hear your stories, compare notes, as it were. I of course understand anyone's reluctance to dredge up old shit, who knows how I'll feel about this several years hence. My contact info is in my profile, or feel free to leave a comment here, if you'd rather go about it that way.

Janna St. James has worn out her welcome with me. I've jettisoned any possible sympathy I might have had for her due to her persistence in continuing the charade of Jesse Jubilee James and his fake friends and family. Had it up to here.

something for all you Googlers

Click this for more enlightenment. At least it's a place to start...

Oh, all right. And this.

And here's one that says a lot.

If you poke around enough, you'll find more than a few startling similarities. I know she's asserted that someone was impersonating her, but if that's the case, then they still are, because the Janna on there is the Janna I know, and I've met her, seen the copy of her drivers license, and heard the stories from her own lying lips. So maybe she's impersonating herself. Go figure.

I guess, since she's a pretty horrible person to be, it's no wonder she's going around wanting to impersonate a dozen other fictional people.