Oh man that's some funny shit right there!!!

Ahh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, I sometimes forget she isn't the brightest kid in the cabbage patch.

So from now on every time she is trolling the users under a guest number, which is a lot, she is going to blame it on the "wrong tab".

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I think, on some subconscious level, Scrubby knows that a lot of people laugh at her for her stupidity.

So, Scrubby, was that last comment of yours an attempt at "sarcasm"?

You know, when you make a stupid mistake and then claim "I am not seeing that report"... "sarcastically"

Or was it simply an honest-to-goodness moronic troll?

BwaHahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!

They should go to rehab because they broadcast this shit on Yawn. (Image Courtesy of the Great and Powerful LA)

After reading Scuttle's rather insightful blog concerning To Detox/OR Not to Detox, trolltrackers decided to dust off the old tracker and take a gander at who was visiting during the time that Drunkman was said to be in treatment.


As in Scuttles review, we here at trolltrackers are not saying that Drunkman was actually the one who was using his computer, but someone using his IP was all up in this shit. Also, for those that think military time sucks, here is a convenient converter to assist your love for Standard Time. To be more succinct "someone" was checking out this blog during the early morning hours of Jan, 16 2015 - @ 12:14  am and 4:43 am . Since Mrs. Pump (reportedly) called the cab to take Drunkman to the hospital shortly after midnight on the 15th of January his computer was found here shortly after midnight on the 16th of January. Things that make you go hmmmmm.

The loser known as Foxmanshawn22 even found the time to visit @ 10:37 pm and 11:58 pm on the date of his voluntary committment. HMMMMMM!!! Damn Drunkman even Ikki could add 24 + 12 with the assistance of her beloved TAWMMMY! lmao

I hope mommy has lots of hugs to give her "little soused shawny"  this week.

BTW Drunkman, thanks for announcing to the entire world, that losing your job has hurt your feelings so bad, that you're about to throw a 6 day pissy fit and essentially accomplish absolutely nothing but your own self-humiliation.

Poll Question:    Name the year and quarter in which you believe Drunkman Shawn will slash up along the Hell-O-Holocoaster traintracks.

2015 (Q1)
2015 (Q2)
2015 (Q3)
2015 (Q4)
2016 (Q1)
2016 (Q2)
2016 (Q3)
2016 (Q4)
2017 (Q1)
2017 (Q2)
2017 (Q3)
2017 (Q4)
2018 (Q1)
2018 (Q2)
2018 (Q3)
2018 (Q4)
2019 (Q1)
2019 (Q2)
2019 (Q3)
2019 (Q4)
2020 (Q1)
2020 (Q2)
2020 (Q3)
2020 (Q4)
2021? No way that fuckwit would live to 2021. Shannon would have killed him herself by that point.

Let's not beat around the maple leaf any further while he takes his daily beatings year after year with no end in sight. It is inevitable that Drunkman will take his own life one day. You know it, I know it, and above all, Drunkman knows it. The pain of Mother Pump's indiscretions, the premature loss of his 32 pearly whites and the varied medical illnesses due to the onset of early boozeheimer's, are a ticking time bomb when coupled with the abuse he cops by all and sundry across multiple forums active and now defunct.

Make no fox bones soup about it, he will off himself one day.

Your punt (or bet), should you choose to wager it, is to pick the year and yearly quarter of his demise (Quarter 1 - Quarter 4).

But you ask, "What's a betting pool without a prize, yo?".

This is where it may get interesting to or for you.

Upon a successful wager for the year and quarter, you get a real life photo of each and every poll participant's gravestone eulogy handwritten out to Foxman's rotting carcass and placed in a cemetery of your choosing and locale with your online moniker displayed proudly in the upper right hand corner of each and every one.

How will this be judged?

Obviously, an obituary of Mr. Roffey in a Central Canada (Ontario) based newspaper would be the prime example all would cite as truth.

Barring that (and it's very possible when one considers the financial difficulties the aging hockey puck has these days), a period of not less than 5 years from this date where Drunkman is not found to be broadcasting either at YawnLive, Mark Yawn's soon to be defunct cunt cave, or anywhere else on the internet.

In addition, I will be offering a 300.00 US V-Coin gift certificate to the winner (anonymously purchased and shipped to whatever anonymous address or anonymous email the winner chooses).

Huge shout out to the legendary LurkersAnonymous for always making chops that wreck these trains in the most entertaining ways.

This is roughly the 703,000th time I've heard this piss-weak excuse for a son/brother verbally abuse his family.

See you ungrateful slobbering drunk, I'm certain that if I were ever in the same room as your family when you start your diseased filthy scumbag mouth you'd suddenly become very, very silent and tripping over your own feet just to kiss your mother's ass. I would be there, grabbing your dust-mite infested, KFC bucket-shaped gourd by it's thin greasy hair and bashing it mercilessly into your fucking wall, while you waddle around drooling and squirting out endless turds all over your puke stained floor - oblivious to the fact that everyone, and I do mean everyone, wishes they could pop by your hovel and cut off both of your paws so that you could never log in and submit another abusive tirade toward your family ever again.

See, nobody in prison gives a fuck about the guy who sucides an asshole who abuses people for his own amusement. And for a VERY good reason. Because they are a true weakling in every sense of the word. Especially when they do it to women. Law of the jungle, canuck cabin boi...lions don't hunt other lions, BITCH. They hunt crippled Zebras. Like you.

I don't call myself a Legend because I like the sound of it or give a fuck about impressing anyone. I do it because I can back it up with DEEDS. You feel ashamed right now. Good. Now you're making sense.  I made you take a look at what you really are and it's that you are seriously a fuckin' loser.

Stick with the abuse of your family, and I will have you punching yourself in the face within weeks.

It is all part of The Process.

Oh what a New Year!

Shots of Patrón XO Cafe Incendio, various cocktails, ciders, and the like, but I paced myself and awoke late morning feeling quite refreshed, despite the capricious fun had and puissant barbecue feast grazed on through the festivities.

I actually do not do earnest resolutions, but it did occur to me that I've been a bit bored with the many bitch-slappings I've administered to deranged nutsacks like VonSmellton, DrunkmanShawn, and the whole slew of partisan politics worshiping cross-eyed beanie babies in the other sub sections of YawnLive.

Guess I'll ease off for awhile and redirect my extra free time to more fulfilling exploits, like bread making and fishing. Meh. What a fucking snorefest.

Exactly like this weak and worthless so-called "troll tracking" blog.

Back in the day at TrollTrackers, posting a blog was basically an invitation to a week-long dogpile. Within hours (at times even minutes) there would have been several textual threats, fists, photochopped cocks and turds tossed into the comments from the heavy hitters and creative writers right on down to the ankle-biting tards. It usually took a day or two just to kick them off and before I could seriously begin to deal with the proper "entertainers" of the game for a few evenings before Scrawnio would come skipping in and pinch off a cum-drenched 26 page "Look at meeeeee!" essay into the fray and divert all the attention onto/into himself (Hands up if you remember when that fucker first showed up in Blogdom and started out as a ONE-word-per-post-blogger for his first few months).

Yes, those were the days. And here we are now - in a 2015 "troll" blog where the worst thing I have to face after roughly 5 years in an international "blogger" forum is a Sesame Street puppet asking me if I was the gimp-in-the-box in Pulp Fiction.

This dump needs to be re-named - as it has absolutely fuck all to do with trolling and everything to do with puppies, kittens and 45+ year old Canadian skanks looking for love in all the wrong places.

I vote that this fluffy shithole be re-named The Wrinkly Hoser Divorcee's Soft Pillows and Tea House in order that it may no longer serve to falsely lure genuine mercenaries like myself with a penchant for making other people meltdown and cry...

What a truly lack luster and disappointing dump this blog has become.

We throw sticks at dogs, that's the level on which we place dogs. You'd never dream of throwing one for a cat. We throw sticks for dogs, and dogs go, "Oh, he's dropped his stick! I better go and get that. [dog chases after the stick] "Saw you dropped your stick there, thought I'd bring it back." [dog gives the stick back and follows it with eyes as you throw it again] "Did you see me just bring that back? And then you … you dipshit, dropped it again? This is fucked. I don't know what's going on here." [dog brings the stick back again] "Now, hang on to it this time, I don't want to fuck around with you all the time. You think I enjoy this? There you … don't fucking throw .....!" [dog chases after the stick] That's why the third time, when they come back, they won't give it to you. They go, [through clenched teeth] "No … I won't let you try that again!"

Cats, on the other hand, have a scam going – you buy the food, they eat the food, they fuck off; that's the deal.

You have no control over your cat! You can't say to your cat, "Cat, heel! Stay! Wait! Lie down! Roll over!" Beause the cat's just going to sit there going, "That's bullshit." While you're shouting all this to your cat, your dog's next to you, going … "What the hell are you doing talking to the cat!"

Holy talking burning bushes of catnip. You are the one who decided to post your personal diet woes on a google hangout. Just like Oprah and Kirstie Alley and every other fatso who ever went on a diet to lose weight and then parks their immobile lardass on a public broadcasting site all fucking day proves only FatKitteh IZ Fat.  I wish I could convey to you just how utterly brain damaged you fucking sound.

Anyway, stop bullshitting about your imaginary weight loss. You look like a Mac Truck that reversed into a dog's arse. By all means, please keep telling yourself that you're losing tons of fat while your arteries are getting blown out of the back of your swollen head you gullible twit.  But no matter, a massive coronary will soon take care of that.

Enjoy the salad.

Abusing and torturing animals is the most disgusting, cruel act anybody can imagine. Animals are defenseless innocent creatures, just like small children, so how can anybody be so vile as to harm them. It was reported to me that this brainless animal abuser was doing it because the scorpion scared his girlfriend. In any instance, it's a general lack of respect for another living creature. It's not a personal thing against the animal. The animal is in a position of vulnerability and the abuser feels control and superiority by exposing this scorpion to hours of intense ultraviolet light (black light) by trapping it in a box with a cricket. As of this report the scorpion has been motionless for over two hours and has been contained in the hot box for over seven hours. Surfrat announced he will leave the creatures in the box for 72 hours. Obviously he has no feeling for the lives that surround him. Disgusting stunt for views imo.

 

There's just so much wrong with this, I barely know where to start. And that is precisely the reason behind this one.



Oh look, geeze, look how she appears to have it all together. All the chicks will like her and all the men will want her man-gina and everyone‘s pet dog will want a sniff of her odorous testes! Booyah!

I know she likes to play in the land of the ungendered, but its clear from the amount of time she spends abusing her laggy internet connection by broadcasting on Yawn, that she has no commitments outside of her computer. JackieLeeDale manages an insane amount of internet participation so its reasonable to say that if the web isn't her sole source of social interaction then it comes pretty damned close.

I don't need to know the ins and outs of her daily grind. The proud boastful shemale was put well and truly in her place with arguments that had holes so wide you could have driven a fleet of Oldsmobile's through them. Do I care? Hell no, this is all about tackling opponents and messing with them for shits and giggles. Does JackieLeeDale care? You saw her babbling here. She is rattled beyond belief with hair-brained gibberish and unhinged malarkey. She's been that way for awhile now, but the fact I continually call her nonsense for what it is, drives her up the transatlantic wall while her dedicated mods devotedly purge and ban the obvious.



The funny thing is that even if she would come wholly out of the closet, it still wouldn't do her any good because she doesn't care what is said about her, her life, her family, the people she associates with or even how she treats her cat. She clearly does not care, which is why she is such an easy mark for me.

Set...Target...Mark...

Do we know who you are? lmfao

I admit I’ve never paid any attention to KittyClaws. Just another illiterate non-entity trying their hand at trolling on the Big Yawn. But something she said recently caught my attention.



Where should I start looking for clues, I wonder? Well, just taking a good look at the way a chatter styles their work would be square one, I suppose. So… what stands out most from KittyClaws's comments, what’s most distinctive? What stands out most is that ugly hot pink, bolded name she uses.





KittyClaws is so enamored with her trademark hot pink font she even uses it on her T-shirts.






But a little thing like a perfect font match isn’t proof enough to start accusing KittyClaws of being the Drunktown laughingstock known as KittyCunt/DemiLess/Nazi_Mod, is it? Surely not. But now that we have caught the scent, let’s have a look at recent events that may support our suspicion.

Recently in my encounter with, this “KITTYCUNT” creature, she seemed to be more into it than the rest, like she had a vested interest in seeing DrunkManFox get fox-faced. But why? Well:

I can put it next to Clones, Evil Bastards, Backstabbing Bitches, the countless ones at Drunktown, you know, all the other dumbified enablers who have done the exact same thing. I love the conspiracy theories.

Oh noes. We have him/them/her back-peddling so fast now, it's like watching a looney tune cartoon backwards. Truth to Drunkman and his cronies is like pouring salt on a slug.


Don’t think the hilarity of BridgetB complaining about Drunkman’s lack of integrity while using a nic-switch account is lost on me, either. That one belongs in the Hypocrite Hall of Fame.

Moving on, I’d like you all to read and make note of this infamous quote:

Quote:
"Foxman is a piece of shit the funny thing is he thinks i'm his friend but I always shit-talk behind his back when he's passed out"

Then a few hours later she skulks back, in another sad attempt to turn her coat once again, and expose to everyone what they already knew about KittyClaws – that she is nothing more than a poorly told joke.

Nobody gave two fucks about you or your bullshit in Ikki's broadcasts, you flip-flopping, wishy-washy back stabber. You need DrunkMan now because there aren’t any other true mentally challenged casters left standing, but I guarantee your stupid ass that Drunkman doesn’t need you. Your fucked up past is here to haunt you and your stay as Nazi_Mod is coming to yet another horrific end.

And yet here you are. I fucking swear; hateful, miserable failures were placed on this earth as God’s personal apology to me for stupid people. I can’t wait for news of your offing yourself hits the rounds so the Woodshed can upload your eulogy like they did for el Kabongo. It’s the only worthwhile thing you have left to contribute…

TTT
- ho ho ho for those who claim above chat capture is chopped

I have elsewhere referenced the fact that Ikki's piddling attempts to transfer the contents of her malfunctioning mind to the fact that she was placed in a foster home due to the malfunctioning clan known as her immediate family will be referenced in this several months ancient video. However, the list of crutches she used to compensate for her lack of achieving an enlightened perspective is both incomplete and unnecessary, as there are many more crutches Ikki used and none of them represented a cause of the core problem, but were merely a manifestation of her outcome. Speaking of which, the turkey is continuing to baste in my oven. The things I gotta do. So without further ado...

She met another, and pftttt she was gone.

DrunkmanShawn is so lonesome without his Yawn asslickers, he has resorted to exposing himself on BattleCam for his daily dose of lickage.

Gawddamn, I fuken clean it all the time.

Hello minions, pleabs, meacocks, dullards, and loons. I am here to report that Victoria Ledbetter is dead. But she has left behind an 8 gig flash drive and a non-illustrious career which spanned 4 Bud filled years.

In her final moments, she left a memoir behind. I shall now tell you what it is.

Dear TrollTrackers, if you are reading this, it is because I am dead. I could no longer take the fame of being a world reknown lifecaster. I think my good friend FoxmanShawn shall take my place. I will give him the secret to my wit and charm. It will be as if I am reborn inside of him. Nevertheless, there are a few things I should address here.

First off, who the fuck trusts a guy with half of his username being that of a sneaky, sly ass critter? "FOXman"? Please. Come on Shawn, you could have done better than that. Isn't it bad enough the pictures that populate your channel are simply part of the "came with the frame" family?

To my dearest trolls Tommy and Nikki. Oh how I'm going to miss skyping you bitches into oblivion, but I assure you, Shawn will be a good role model, so don't you worry. But Tommy, please promise me one thing. Stick to one username please. You change it more times than you utter your signature lame "real talk" Now to Nikki, I had such hopes for you. I had a dream that you went to college and became a teacher. You would have been a good teacher, with an amazing career, and a body other women would suck a dick for. You would have a family, and real friends, and you would think all of this social broadcasting nonsense was a load of shit. Then you would enter your classroom and your students would eagerly be waiting to be taught what 2 +2 is as they are riddled with bullets. You and your students all perish with blood flying everywhere, bodies destroyed, and the cuss words from the janitors as they walk in and say stuff like "Damn, look at this fuken mess!" Notice how I said "dream", and not "nightmare". 

Remember, Drunkman Shawn, slip up, say stupid things, and drone on and on about pointless shit, and you'll be in good shape for another few years. It's only a matter of time anyway.

To everyone else, have a nice day!

Wow! That was so touching, I think I might tear up! So as I carefully empty my hard drive, Ikki will no doubt live up to the expectations of the masses and we can effectively, although practically, wipe the bits of trash and dust that litter my motherboard.

Now, fuck off and explode! (She told me I could use her catchphrases.)