John G. Martin: Still The Saddest Little Asshole To Ever Spend His Adult Life Fondling A Dog
March 17th, 2008
Well done, gentlemen; the next round’s on me. Thanks for making my fucking week. Told you he was a creepy little motherfucker.
Seriously, Mr. Martin, you’re in your mid-fifties and this is your life’s work? Trolling anti-war protests in hopes of provoking a confrontation? That’s what you quit drinking for?
Because if that’s all you got, hoss, I recommend you take up the bottle again. Jesus, watching your old ass sleep off a vodka binge in a gutter would be good sight less depressing than the current void that seems to be your life. If these antics are any indication, yours is the kind of existential hell that forces the rest of us to muster our entire reserve of intestinal fortitude to withstand the sudden, overpowering impulse to drive ten-penny nails through our eyes. Hell, I’ve seen six-year-olds huffing Freon who were less pitiful than your dried up old ass.
Update: Having had, shall we say, a couple of run-ins with John Martin (here and here), I’m a little skeptical as to the cool, contained, mild-mannered version of himself he’s concocted for the above post. The Mr. Martin I know more resembles a spastic rhesus monkey with a greasy little erection and shit crusted around his mouth. I’ll never quite forget the first time I saw him hopping about and tugging at the front of his pants in the direction of a few college girls unfortunate enough to be in his general presence. I have it on good authority that at least two of the poor kids are still undergoing therapy.
So . . . if any of you Try-Works readers have firsthand knowledge that contradicts Mr. Martin’s tale, email me or leave it in the comments. I’ll happily repost it on the main page.
Update II: Seems Mr. Martin was fudging just a wee bit in his account of the so-called harrassment he endured on Columbus day. I’ve been emailed one report in from an unnamed journalist, who describes him thusly:
Foaming at the mouth is right . . . He was just trolling around, black hat backwards wearing some kind of ridiculous looking cargo pants with a vest to match. Very creepy.
But even better, Glenn Spagnoulo has chimed in at Mr. Martin’s blog with what I kinda gathered was the case:
You are so pathetic. Trying to act like you were in some kind of real danger. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have and there would have been nothing you could have done about it, but it would be a complete waste of time. Never claimed to be a peacenik. Oh yea, thanks for the ten buck donation. Nice not to mention that the scarf guy was playing with you, but I know, you need to create a story so go with it. We do not mind the attention, but speaking for myself, I do mind your false bullshit. Keep it up though, when someone like you starts writing something positive about me is when I know I have gone wrong.
Hey Drunkawife, your husband was never in any real trouble, he likes to pretend so he could look all dangerous to turn you on when he gets home. I guess you would have to be a drunk wife to cuttle up to that poor excuse of a man.
. . .
One more thing John, that is not Shareef in the picture with Larry Hales, but I guess to a scared little white man like yourself, “they all look the same” right.
Wm:
I pointed him out because people thought some one shit their pants because of the smell, I assumed it was John so I let them know. No reason to hide, right John. After all you were never really in any danger were you. Plus the fearless John Martin was trying to act like he was really into it all, thought people should no he was a fake. Keep hiding El Pres. Maybe some day you will grow a pair and introduce yourself to me. I won’t hold my breath. The only place any of you have any courage is when you are in cyber-space.
Well, that’s our Mr. Martin. He tries another goofy attempt at provoking an incident, then whines when his shenanigans are met with the mildest of reproval. Methinks he’s been hanging out with Heath Urie of late. One hopes the tender little darling never stubs his toe at one of these events. One can only imagine the snot, tears and howls of outrage attending.
Seriously, where was Mr. Martin drinking during his epic days of debauchery? Christ, given the levels of levels of self-pity he evinces when sober, one wonders who the hell would drink with him? I can’t imagine any self-respecting alcoholic who wouldn’t drown him in a toilet after about five minutes of his whining. To paraphrase Tom Waits, get down off the cross, asshole, we could use the wood.
Update III: Mr. Spagnoulo’s right, of course, Shareef Aleem ain’t anywhere to be found in this picture.
March 18th, 2008 at 12:29 am
There’s something happening here.
What it is ain’t exactly clear.
There’s a man with a gun over there,
Telling me I got to beware.
I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down.
There’s battle lines being drawn.
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong.
Young people speaking their minds,
Getting so much resistance from behind.
It’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down.
What a field day for the heat.
A thousand people in the street,
Singing songs and carrying signs,
Mostly say, “Hooray for our side.”
It’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down.
Paranoia strikes deep:
Into your life it will creep.
It starts when you’re always afraid.
You step out of line, the man come and take you away.
Stephen Stills
March 18th, 2008 at 12:39 am
(Stewart)
Sometimes I’m right then I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my songs
A butcher, a banker, a drummer and then
Makes no difference what group I’m in
I am everyday people
Then it’s the blue ones who can’t accept
The green ones for living with
The black ones tryin’ to be a skinny one
Different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and scooby dooby dooby
Ooh sha sha
We gotta live together
I am no better and neither are you
We’re all the same whatever we do
You love me you hate me
You know me and then
Still can’t figure out the scene I’m in
I am everyday people
Then it’s the new man
That doesn’t like the short man
For being such a rich one
That will not help the poor one
Different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on scooby dooby dooby
Ooh sha sha
We got to live together
There is a yellow one that won’t
Accept the black one
That won’t accept the red one
That won’t accept the white one
Different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and
Scooby dooby dooby
Ooh sha sha
I am everyday people
March 18th, 2008 at 1:30 am
[deleted]
March 18th, 2008 at 9:35 am
Finally had that long anticipated breakdown, Laurie?
March 18th, 2008 at 11:50 am
The 6 yr olds were doing what? Anyhow, this weekend I spent 7 hours waiting for these pacifists to finally get arrested, and it was fun. This guy I had met from bike rides is a Peace and Conflict major, and he was encouraging us to go to their blockade 7am the 19th at a place not on this list. He supports this tree-sit stuff so I was skeptical at first, but I realized it makes so much sense because they do nuclear research, and the police will be tied up at the other sites that morning. So I was thinking of going to watch, except on their announcement today, they’re saying they will have free food and music as they protest the use of the SAT in school admissions, so perhaps not. Going to the AT&T NSA spying building would be more rewarding. Someone else described how a few days ago, a facebook anti-hippy club all gathered at one treesit in Berkeley and were yelling that he needed to leave the tree or they’d come pull him down. Then some supporters came. Then the Peace&Conflict pacifist man came and hypnotically convinced the anti-hippy students via his mediation techniques to all stand in a circle and have a discussion (which means he wins) and the treesitter came down after he realized his work was done.
March 18th, 2008 at 1:34 pm
Ben, will you kindly remove the Scrunt from Try-Works, once and for all?
Either that, or I’m signing off permanently, as a gesture of self-preservation. While I pride myself on having a cast iron stomach, this wretched piece of human excrement makes me puke every time.
March 18th, 2008 at 7:34 pm
[deleted]
March 18th, 2008 at 7:38 pm
[deleted]
March 18th, 2008 at 8:12 pm
My, that was fun.
March 18th, 2008 at 8:54 pm
Who is Starry Dynamo?
Glad you enjoyed.
March 19th, 2008 at 11:44 am
We owe it to John Martin to put him in some actual fucking danger, now that he’s already gone and claimed that it’s already happened. Otherwise, the poor boy would end up bein’ just another scumbag right-wing liar.
Am I right?
(My vote is that we strap the vile little cocksucker to a chair and force him to listen to the Scrunt reciting ancient Stephen Stills lyrics for, say, 24 hours straight. Seems to me that the mere threat of such a fate would be enough to make even real tuff guys like PhD Anthro crap their drawers.)
March 19th, 2008 at 4:35 pm
Martin did leave out a minor detail: Throughout the “confrontation,” he waded in a pool of his own urine after he pissed himself silly out of fear. He looked very nervous through the whole thing; he could barely put two words together. Although, I could not tell if this was his natural state or if this was brought on by the events at the protest. There might be a potential lawsuit here in small claims court. Mr. Martin might have a legitimate claim that the ruffians owe him the cost of a new pair of pants.