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.

...

remarkable, isn't it?

So, here's a few little tidbits from twenty-six-plus years ago. Back when Janna was simply Jann Saint James and even had the letterhead to prove it. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is an alleged letter from Tommy Shaw. We all know it's not. Even Janna knows. The person that Janna pulled the Styx scam on, well, that went so far as for Janna to actually procure a Siberian Husky pup from somewhere, and pretended that Tommy gave it away to her.





Note how even here, a quarter of a century ago, Janna was still making digs about her own weight through other personas. And "Tommy" calls her Janny. Ain't that sweet.

Now, here's a letter that I actually love. A tandem effort by darlin' Janny and "Tommy" talking about their impending wedding. I'm including the envelope so you can all see the date of the postmark, and the location. Even then, Janna was mailing shit from places she didn't live.












It's funny how her own handwriting is so elaborately girly, to detract from the other guy-like handwriting she uses when she's pretending to be a guy. "Tommy" had the same kind of fractured psyche that "Jesse" did. And the same handwriting. To keep you from having to do the fishing, here are some links.

HANDWRITING 1

HANDWRITING 2

I mean, really, there's no doubt here, is there? Or perhaps it's just a really big coinkydink. My ass.

And when Janna -- sorry -- JannY's target had finally become frustrated and suspicious that Janny had been lying, about some things at least, and got herself into a decent relationship with a real fella, Janna shot off this little guilt-inducing missive. She's so goddamned good at it, even more than half her life ago she was the queen of tweakitude.



Nice letterhead, huh?

There's more letters, way more, tons more, and quite a cast of characters, of course peripherally bolstering the validity of the person Janna was impersonating. Her MO.

Eventually, this person and a few other people JannY deceived spoke to her mother about this. So her mother has known about Janna's chronic lies for decades. This serial deceiver is surrounded by enablers - her mother Barbara, her daughter Jessica, her husband Bill, and all the other friends she has that know what she's doing and turn a blind eye to it.

Enablers at the very least, if not outright accomplices.

And considering the mad skillz she has in her skanky, rat-infested toolshed, the internet enhances them a thousandfold. Now, she doesn't even need to handwrite letters much; she can deceive dozens of people at a time, in less time. Thank Jebus for cut and paste!!!

It's sad for me to realize now that I will find it very difficult to trust strangers ever again. She really did take that away from me. I was hoping it would come back, but naw, it's gone for good. I know many of you will say that it's probably a good thing, but all the friends I do have, they were strangers once too. So I guess it's just good that I've got the friends I've got, because it's gonna be tough to get any more. Still, I've just gotta throw another "fuck you" out at her for this. Fuck you, Jan Jann Janny Janet Janna Hopper Saint James St. James Priggie, who is neither British nor Australian nor Russian nor French. Nor a man. Nor interesting.

Sigh.

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.

an observation

I went to see The Informant! today, and got truly squicked out by Matt Damon's character. If there was ever an accurate representation of what I imagine is going on in Janna St James Priggie's addled head, it's this guy's inner (and outer!) dialogue. Holy bleedin' crap.

It's a good movie. Go see it.

As for the other thing, I've just got a lot on my plate right now. Janny can wait.

F is for Fake

Just a little update on my lawsuit against Janna. The judge agreed to proceed with the fraud charge against her, but for some inexplicable reason, decided against a few other charges, including defamation (what can ya do, the original judge retired in the middle of the complaint to-ing and fro-ing, and the replacement is new at his job). But hey, that's what appeals courts are for. So, we're going to go ahead with prosecuting Janna for fraud in civil court, and we're going to appeal the other charges. Fun fun fun. Almost two years and counting. Don't you love the legal system?

I'll tell you, though. I love my lawyer. She is fierce.

I was gonna drop another little bombshell here, but I think I'll do a little investigatin' myself first. Let's just say styx and stones may break my bones, but old handwriting never dies.

How's that for obliquely screwing up metaphors?

...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.