What actually is a Bavette steak?

From R71 of the below-linked thread:

Beef eaters, try a cut of beef called "flap." I think it's also known as sirloin bavette. Anyway, not expensive and is tasty. I have bought this from Costco, comes in strips (long, narrow slices). The way I cook it is just pan-fried (to medium-rare, closer to medium). I do use A-1. I've also eaten it marinated in teriyaki sauce and it's delicious that way as well (cooked on an outdoor grill afterwards).

I rarely eat beef, but I do like this flap cut of beef.

From R75 of the above-linked thread:

I googled for you R73! I must admit I was slightly worried too - because flaps - but here we go. I think I'll just stick with my turkey.

Sirloin bavette:

From R39 of the below-linked thread:

I bought a tray of bavette or flap steak from Costco. IMO, it's a very underrated cut of beef.

All I did was salt, pepper, oil in a pan. Delicious. You can freeze what you don't use or eat.

Oh my god, OP is embarrassingly ignorant.

The link provided by R39 of the above-linked thread:

I once had an elaborate meal with friends in which this cut was the centerpiece. We called it Bavette's feast.

I'm the one who posted about flap / bavette, cited at R1.

OP, you just have to read the articles to the links, including the link at R5, which was the article link that I posted in the Holiday Dinner thread.

Look at the diagrams of the cow that people have posted.

If you are actually interested in buying flap / bavette at the store, in my experience, it comes in long, narrow strips, maybe 3/4 of an inch thick. By long and narrow, I'd say 2.75 inches wide, maybe 10 inches long.

The name used for this cut of meat may vary by region.

This was and maybe still is a relatively inexpensive cut of meat. It's tender, IMO.

[quote] The name used for this cut of meat may vary by region.

By region, I mean geographical, not by cow part.

In Australia, butchers try to sell you skirt steak and think it’s the same thing. It’s not.

Yeah, skirt is a different thing.

I guess no one knows for sure. It seems like American cooks just say “bavette” to sound fancy when talking about any tough, sinewy cut. Everything connects.

I feel like I could just plop a cube steak and some asparagus onto a plate and call it “steak à la bavette”. Add a slice of olive oil cake and you’ve got yourself a dinner.

You're just too lazy to read and learn, R14. Sad.

MMMMMUUUUURRRRRIIIIIIEEEELLLLLLLLL

It comes from a cow who has walked the Camino.

Ok, cool kids. I went and took my meager means to my nearest meat monger and purchased what he purported and promised to be the genuine Bavette beef buy.

I’ve been marinating some marinade methods in my muddled mind and grappling with a grilling game plan. I will keep you all posted on whatever product I produce from the beef provided me by my Bavette butcher.

Onward.

Delicious!

Have you surrendered to the simplicity in the steak, OP? In the knowing unknowingly sensual pleasure of cooking in a solitary space?

Isn't it an ideal cut for chicken fried steak?

From the BBC Good Food site-

I thought this was a subversive Kevin Sessums thread.

The thread killers have struck again! Let us pilgrims keep going on ward

I was on a cruise and we stopped in Marseille. I ended up having lunch with some fellow passengers (who were British) at a little restaurant in some seaside town. "Bavette" was on the menu and was embarrassed to admit that I'd never heard of it (even though I know some French, especially food terms.) The Brits explained to me that it was a type of steak, so I guess they're more familiar with it in the UK.

Is it anything like beef curtains?

Yummy beef curtains

They serve wonderful Bavette steaks on TRAINS.

R28, why did you capitalize trains?

Stealth Kevin sessims thread

Sometimes you just want a ridiculously over-priced hamburger, where you can dine at your leisure, and not have to worry about leaving a large tip!

Sometimes a train journey is cruelly interrupted with not so much as a bavette steak to be had!

There’s a restaurant in the West Village called Buvette. Unfortunately they don’t have a bavette steak on the menu. One less cow to be cut from the herd for the enjoyment of you meat-eating ignorami.

[quote] One less cow to be cut from the herd

Fewer!

We’re back in NM complete with a pic of his new borrowed shitter!

Maybe it's just the Southern white trash in me, but I feel a Bavette steak meal is incomplete if it's not crowned with proscuitto and downed with a glass of Carnation Instant Breakfast (made with Whole White Milk).

A side of apricot jam?

Who goes on a 20+ hour train ride without bringing their own food and beverages?

Magoo do, that's who!

😂😂😂of course not - however would he connect with the baristas and busboys?

[quote]Maybe it's just the Southern white trash in me, but I feel a Bavette steak meal is incomplete if it's not crowned with proscuitto and downed with a glass of Carnation Instant Breakfast (made with Whole White Milk).

Southern white trash wouldn't know prosciutto (which you misspelled) from spam.

Be careful it’s not Cheval.

Needless to say, she does not seem…well. See below:

This morning I sniffed the milk in its carton before I poured it on my cereal. It smelled quite sour. Really bad. "No, it's not sour. That's just your own bad sense of smell," said those who live in denial. "Pour it on your cereal and shut the fuck up and eat it. The milk is not sour but just smells like it's about three weeks past its use-by date."

Then I pointed to the use-by date. It was three weeks past it.

"No, that is not what that says," said those who live in denial. "Your eyes are seeing that wrong."

I took a closer look. I still saw the same use-by date.

"Stop looking," said those who live in denial.

I poured the milk onto my cereal.

I ate the first spoonful.

I gagged.

"Swallow it," said those who live in denial. "Just swallow it."

R42 That’s his anti- Biden prose

Thanks for explaining that allegory, fable, whatever it was, R42, because I had no idea what was going on. No sarcasm here. I really thought he was losing it.

You’re welcome. He has a lot of balls to be lecturing anyone. Doesn’t live here. Doesn’t pay taxes. Doesn’t contribute in any meaningful way.

I never see bavette aka flap steak at any of the grocery stores around me. I’m sure I could get some from the mom and pop butcher, but I’m curious why it’s so rare (pun, sorry) to find it out in the wild. Is it a part of the cow that typically just gets ground up into hamburger meat?

Marbled fat and gristly composition with absolutely no taste and leaves a bitter aftertaste.

I often tear up after eating a Bavette steak!

I had two dinners recently on a single 20-hour Amtrak trip, and they served bavette both evenings. A simple preparation with a side of a couple asparagus spears dotted with crumbled bleu cheese, and the whole affair was crowned with a drizzle of oil. Gristly, tasteless, and bitter.

Interesting, R49. Was there spinach atop the dish?

Bavette steak is typically made from the sagging teats of elderly cows who have been cut from the herd. It's often shipped great distances, needlessly, in the heat. That's why one usually finds it at cheap chains like Prêt.

OG Bav sighting!

She replies to the parable/metaphor quoted in R42:

[quote]Such unpleasantries we must all be swallowing here on the planet presently .. the SARURN RETROGRADE IVE uttered due until November is a huge cause of unsettling occurrences and of course people who do not use what they have and let what they don’t get spoiled beyond comfort . Oh well .. sigh and deep breaths and hope for the best!!

Bav knows all about past sell by dates!

If Greg was still here, this thread would have two hundred more replies, all from him, responding to a recipe he cribbed from America’s Test Kitchen and passed off as his own.

SARURN?

anytime she uses the phrase "I was mentored by"....... it's safe to substitute the phrase, "I was fucked by" ?

I was cunt by the herd.

From the farm of fame?

I’m having a really terrible day. Thank you, pilgrims, for the laughter.

Or was he cut from the turd?

Pilgrims- has the fucking lunatic driven us all asunder to different paths?

Uncle Fester now referring to his grifted temporary digs as “my casita” what a deluded homeless troll.

Pervy shots of his new pal Pasha and his thigh tattoo...

He took a shita in his casita!

I have a skirt steak recipe with a sauce so delicate that you’ll ask yourself “When did I eat corn”, yet so beefy that your guests will get a great whiff of your leavings.

Messhy Bavette!

Something has happened typical long winded post but he was called out by a friend for upsetting another friend apparently. He alludes to posting things of joy whatever… maybe Casita owner was pissed off at him posting how he had to buy a special pan for his plops as there was none at “his” casita 😂

Beneath all the gratitudes and joy is bitchy ingratitude...

Rideaux de boeuf need a good marinade and long braising, after hanging for a good two weeks.

It's really the only cut one can use for the classic dish [italic]stalactite de bœuf à la Grotte du Mammouth[/italic]

He is so profoundly dumb. I don’t think that’s stated quite enough.

He’s got that rough trade hooker staying in “his” casita

Everyone in danger, girl

Buckle up, bitches! Uncle Grifter has not forgotten about his “serialised novel” back on shitstack soon.

Or, you know, to fade away like sessums “magazine”, Finn, Matty, Hudson, shitstack one

Coq-au-vin sucking on a huge sausage.

No doubt Dibs will still be leaking black earwax, r71

Is the “novella” called “First Dibs/Last Rites”? I wanted to remember if it was really that stupid.

Shenanigans at the casita! Our addled grim pillager couldn’t work out how to unlock it so he’s busted the lock 🔐 Bet that owner is thrilled she allowed him to stay.

R75, and some kind soul in the comments suggested that maybe it was tiime to settle down as this kind of adventure (getting locked out of temporary digs) is a "young man's game." His reply was bitchy and cunting as always.

I think he simply doesn't know how to handle any kind of comment or relationship that isn't transactional. I don't think he can concieve of some frau following his adventures and feeling concerned about him. Caring? About a stranger? Just because you're soft-hearted and believe the spiel, and don't like seeing people suffer? It's beyond his ability to imagine.

R66, he is incapable of writing a simple declarative sentence, so to figure out what happened I had to navigate a labyrinth of alliterative adjectives, half-baked metaphors, clichés, and awkward clauses.

Upshot: He posted something he wasn't supposed to post. (Quelle surprise!). Some friend was upset -- upset enough that a mutual friend of both had to relay the news to the Bav. "Everything connects" has its downside.

Wait, did the owner of the casita really send a message to Bav through a mutual friend about Bav complaining about the kitchenware?

He is such an ungrateful (HOMELESS) cunt!

Not sure if that was it 😂

I bet the owner is thrilled at old addled Fester breaking the lock open… or did he?!

Tattooed rough trade in a late-night visit?

Is La Bav entertaining local tricks at her “casita”?

R80, how on earth would he pay? Name-dropping of 20th Century irrelevancies like Vanity Fair & Interview only goes so far. Cash is king.

He pays with an oral recitation from his novel in progress.

He took a steamy shita in the casita!

One of his followers posted this after KS posted yet again about why Biden needs to go:

[quote]Oh, FFS, Kevin. I am not in a cult just because I am not joining you in your nihilistic pity party. No one is telling you to sit down and shut up. Haven't you noticed? Yours is the prevailing opinion. It's not fashionable to support Biden without first pissing and moaning about how awful it is that he's so old and how much we wish we had a better candidate. The cult of youth and beauty reigns supreme. I am voting for Biden because he's a capable and successful leader with a cabinet that is strong and only getting stronger. And I don't see you or anyone else offering any real viable alternatives. The only person out there even remotely as qualified as Biden is HRC, but we know how that went. So go on then, shrug your shoulders and give up if that's what you need to do, but the of rest of us have an election to win.

Good on her. He hasn't responded yet, but my guess he will be cunty about it or just delete it.

Kevin Sessums stalker cunts are a scourge.

R85, it’s not working, sweetie. Notice that this thread is still wonderfully here.

Kevin Sessums is an asshole, but he is a human asshole who isn't famous enough to be incessantly stalked here, have accidents and ill health wished on him, and to have his health problems mocked.

Stop copying and pasting that EXACT SAME PARAGRAPH! Get some new material.

In forums deep, where shadows softly creep,

A thread on Bavette steak, a savory treat,

Lures lurkers in, a hungry, silent beat.

Their eyes not on the dish, but one more steep

In Kevin Sessums' life, a glimpse to keep.

They sift the posts, for details, oh so sweet,

A morsel here, a mention, incomplete,

To build a web, a shadow's profile steep.

Like bloodhounds on a scent, they track and wind,

Each like on photos, follows left behind,

A comment's echo, a like's subtle art.

A harmless thread, a stalking takes its start,

For Sessums' life, they dissect every part,

A hunger for his essence, tearing him apart.

R89 is massively unhinged or it’s La Bav herself. To put that much time into a poem about us is, well, next level.

Once upon a time, in the hidden corners of the internet, a thread shimmered like a golden pot roast. It was a thread about Bavette's steak, a legendary dish that tantalized online foodies. But lurking amongst them were not just hungry gourmands, but shadowy figures with a different kind of appetite.

These were the Webstalkers, creatures of the digital night, their eyes gleaming with an unhealthy glint. They cared not for the crusty sear or the juicy tenderness of the steak. Their target was Kevin Sessums, a name whispered within the thread. With each like, each comment, they weaved a digital tapestry, hoping to snag a scrap of information, a morsel about Sessums' life.

Like a sly fox following a rabbit trail, the Webstalkers scoured the web, following Sessums' online footprints. A harmless photo, a casual like - each one a brick in the obsessive castle they built. The delicious Babette's steak became a mere pawn in their bizarre game, a gateway to something far more sinister.

This is a cautionary tale, a reminder that even the most innocent online spaces can harbor unseen dangers. So next time you venture into the digital forest, be wary of the shadows that lurk, for you never know what kind of creature might be lurking just behind the next thread.

Punch and delete the poor obsessed "LEAVE BAVNEY ALONE!" troll.

In the realm of online social communities, a phenomenon has been observed concerning the manipulation of seemingly innocuous threads for the purpose of surreptitious data collection.

The Bavette Steak thread Incident exemplifies this phenomenon. Here, a culinary discussion acted as a lure, attracting individuals with a secondary interest in a specific individual, Kevin Sessums.

By strategically analyzing online interactions and exploiting social media affordances, these individuals, designated here as SSN-extractors (Social Stalking Network-extractors), were able to harvest data fragments pertaining to Sessums' online presence. This behavior highlights the potential for online anonymity to be compromised through the exploitation of user-generated content and social media interactions. Further research is warranted to determine the efficacy of mitigation strategies in protecting user privacy within online social communities.

^ChatGPT

You Kevin Sessums stalkers really are a brains trust, aren't you?

A “brains” trust, R95? Did you just malfunction, sweetie?

At least Biden's brain isn't addled from decades of drug abuse like the Bav...

Biden wasn’t culled from the herd!

Once upon a time, in the land of computers, a yummy treat called Bavette steak was the star of a show-and-tell! But some viewers weren't there for the yummy food. They were looking for someone special named Kevin Sessums.

These viewers, peek-a-boos we call them, wanted to know all about Kevin. They followed his crumbs like little detectives, but instead of cookies, they were looking for bits of information. They looked at his pictures and followed his clicks, all to learn more about Kevin.

This is a reminder, little ones, that even though computers are fun, there can be peek-a-boos hiding sometimes. So, be careful what you share and tell a grown-up if something feels wrong.

So to get back on topic, do you eat Bavette like an actual steak (e.g. New York strip), or is it a meat scrap only suited to e.g. ropa vieja?

I call Dibs on any leftover ropa vieja. I spent a few years in small town eastern Cuba, and while it’s a “poverty dish”, it ages deliciously for a couple days like most beef stews.

In the land of meats, so tender and rare,

Lived a cut of beef, beyond compare.

The Bavette steak, with striations so fine,

Marbled with goodness, a truly divine!

From the cow's underbelly, it came with delight,

A long, thin steak, a culinary might.

Butchered with care, then trimmed just right,

Ready for searing, a culinary flight.

Oh, the chefs they would sing, of its flavor so bold,

Cooked with precision, a story untold.

Seared hot and fast, with a crust oh so deep,

Then sliced thin and served, secrets to keep.

On plates it would gleam, a juicy delight,

Paired with chimichurri, a flavor so bright.

A squeeze of lemon, a sprinkle of salt,

Bavette steak, a treasure to exalt!

How is Ali McGraw doing through this leg of the journey?

Ali McGraw is an American actress who has had a successful career in film, television, and theater. She is known for her roles in films such as "Goodbye, Columbus," "Love Story," "The Getaway," and "Convoy." She has also starred in television miniseries such as "The Winds of War" and "Dynasty." In recent years, she has hosted segments for the Encore Love Stories premium cable network.

Scrubby my steak.

These freaks always turn these Kevin Sessums threads into scat threads 💩 by bringing up this running joke about Ali McGraw cleaning Kevin Sessums's soiled underwear (scrubbo drawers something something). It's just as unfunny and puerile the nine thousandth time is it was the first time.

I love a Bavette steak while some blowhard reprobate bloviates on politics... really gives me some food for thought!

Did you ask Kevin Sessums about it?

What’s our grifting grim pillager up to?

Kevin Sessums stalker bat-signal. Yawn.

We are having a laugh about an insufferable old cunt. You’re the stalker, dear. Bless your heart.

Scroll up for RIVETING abuse about Kevin Sessums health a d addiction issues.

I love a Bavette steak crowned with Virtue-Signaling Sauce, slightly sour and scolded...

Kevin Sessums!

Henry Geldzahler!

Kevin Sessums threads really are the psoriasis of Datalounge.

He's heard from "private missives" that his writing on the election is being read "inside the house," he says, "and that's all I'll cryptically say."

Kevin Sessums isn't worth all these ambiguous pronouns.

Is this pancakes barbara adjacent?

Bav Blathers 'Bout Biden Bumptiously...

Christ, now this deluded homeless old coot is claiming to be influential in the political sphere? Let’s get back to bothering shopkeepers and scat.

Crackie On Assistance

Her face is caving in, while she enjoys some idiotic queer dessert “tailgating” before the opera with some fat broad. HOW UTTERLY STUPID.

R121. You got it….hes back to pestering boutique owners, claiming they are “new friends”. I’d CRINGE if that smelly slob was loitering around my store, but what to do, what to do? Throw him out? Lord knows everyone in Hudson was tired of the weird baggies of cat hair cake and the constant leering. In Provincetown, to stand out you’d practically have to run nude up and down the wharf in the dead of winter screaming “I NEED TO GET…..oh wait, NEVERMIND!! 🤣🤣🤣🤪

She’s too messhy for politics.

(Verse 1)

Bavette steak, sizzling online, a thread where the hungry convene

But me, I'm on a different quest, a name whispered, unseen

Kevin Sessums, the ghost in the machine, a like or a follow, my digital dream

(Chorus)

We're the webstalker cowboys, wrangling pixels in the night

Hoping for a connection, in this lonely digital light

You really are a fucking psycho

(Verse 1)

Rode the chrome bus in from Allentown

Steel jungle hummin', didn't know where I belonged

Heard whispers 'bout a city, name shimmered like a dime

A neon oasis, called Kevin, a concrete state of mind

(Chorus) Kevin Sessums, man of shadows and lights

Skyscraper canyons, echoin' nights

Yellow cabs screamin', a million stories untold

Lost and found in Kevin, never gettin' old

(Verse 2)

Dived into the underground, where the beat kicks loud

Strobe lights flashin', faces lost in the crowd

Met a dreamer on a fire escape, with a melody in his soul

We danced beneath the glitter ball, let the city take control

(Chorus) Kevin Sessums, man of shadows and lights

Skyscraper canyons, echoin' nights

Yellow cabs screamin', a million stories untold

Lost and found in Kevin, never gettin' old

(Bridge)

Some folks get weary, of the pace and the grime

But Kevin's got a magic, that keeps you in its prime

(Chorus) Kevin Sessums, man of shadows and lights

Skyscraper canyons, echoin' nights

Yellow cabs screamin', a million stories untold

Lost and found in Kevin, never gettin' old

(Outro)

Yeah, never gettin' old with Kevin, this man's my home

A man walks into a fancy restaurant and orders the Bav. When it arrives, he’s surprised to see it’s a tiny cut of meat.

He calls over the waiter and says, “Is this what a Bavette steak is supposed to look like? It’s so small!”

The waiter leans in and whispers, “Sir, that’s just a preview. The real Bavette, Kevin Sessums, starts in 15 minutes.”

The only political connection she has is having the same crack dealer as Hunter Biden.

You wouldn't be using Kevin Sessums addiction issues as a pejorative, would you?

Meandering back to “his” casita he spies pets for adoption. Of course, being a pilgrim means all the lil animals will miss out on his methed-out neglect. Lest anyone point that out, he proclaims PTSD from giving up his pussies.

At least those cats escaped.

Oh, Kevin Sessums's casita, a charming sight,

Bathed in warm sun, a beacon so bright.

Vines climb the walls, with flowers so sweet,

A haven of comfort, a tranquil retreat.

Is it the terrace, where dreams take to flight?

Or the cozy interior, bathed in soft light?

Perhaps the garden, a whimsical scene,

A secret escape, forever serene.

Each window a glimpse of a life so refined,

A testament to a creative mind.

Oh, Kevin's casita, a muse and a friend,

May your beauty and charm never know an end.

Where's gerg when you need him?

can this thread die already? wtf.

These Kevin Sessums stalkers won't let go.

Kevin Howard Scott Sessums

Howard Scott was an American engineer who founded the Technocracy movement in North America during the early 1920s. He was critical of traditional government and economics, believing them to be inefficient and wasteful. Scott's vision for Technocracy involved a society run by engineers who would make decisions based on scientific principles and resource management, prioritizing social good over profit. The Technocracy movement gained some traction during the Great Depression but ultimately faded from prominence.

Kevin Sessums is an asshole, but he is a human asshole who isn't famous enough to be incessantly stalked here, have accidents and ill health wished on him, and to have his health problems mocked. (

R138. Eat shit, bitch

Kevin Sessums!

Has anyone seen my glasses... again?

Oh, I lost my glasses, won’t anyone (cough cough) help me ($$) get a new pair?

Till now, I had been blissfully unaware that the Bav is tatted. He displayed his forearm ink along with his asparagus-crowned-with-mushroom plop in a recent photo. It's rather blurry, but it seems to say, "Even a Proverb is no proverb to you until your Life has [illustrated? illuminated?] it..." I wonder what's with the random capitalized nouns, but then I wonder a whole lot of things about our grim pill grim....

Where digital shadows shape our mortal coil,

A tale unfolds of one whose name we know,

A modern bard, a digital halo’s glow.

Kevin Sessums, a name on every tongue and screen,

A digital icon, a cultural scene.

We gather here to hear the daily verse,

The adoration, criticism, or worse.

So let us listen to the world’s decree,

On this fair day, what fate for him will be

Bav = Kevin Sessums

The absolute weirdos R144/R145 has no life or job. It loves using AI.

Let's stick to the Bav at hand: Kevin Sessums.

Why does Bav have to make these long walks to do anything? Are there no Ubers in NM?

I can’t believe she lost her glasses yet again. Is this, what, the fifth time?

[bold]Kevin's New Mexico Night [/bold] Kevin Sessums, lost and lone,

In New Mexico, a desert stone.

No Uber's call, no city light,

Just endless sky and starry night.

He walks the roads, a weary soul,

The wind does howl, a mournful dole.

No taxis near, no bus to ride,

Just cactus plants on either side.

He yearns for home, a soft warm bed,

Instead, the desert fills his head.

No phone to guide, no map to see,

Just endless miles of mystery.

That blurry tattoo is the recipe for "Steak Bavette" with messhy Sesshy sauce... enjoy!

Sesshy, sesshy, what’s the deal?

It’s just a fancy way to spiel

About Kevin. Sessums, see?

So next time you hear this word, agree

It’s just a slangy, fun-filled sound

For Kevin Sessums, gathered all around!

...and if you dry beg hard enough, people will take pity on you!

For all ye lay people: the stalker get dopamine orgasms by gleefully insinuating that Kevin Sessums's in-kind requests as a form of grift. It's a circle jerk.

Receipts for the Kevin Sessums stalker circle jerk. Total wankfest.

His FIRST tattoo was BOTCHED….he was so high, neither he NOR his tattoo artist caught the flub. It was MY entry into his twisted world.

“This is my first tattoo. I got it this past Sunday as an early birthday gift to myself and a commemoration of reaching a goal that concerned 90 days. It consists of two lines from an Emily Dickinson poem

HOPE IS THE THING WITH FEATHERS THAT PERCHES IN THE SOUL

When I got home on Sunday night and took off the bandage I realized that the word "IN" had been left out. At first I was a bit, shall we say, upset. But then I took several deep breaths and said a prayer and calmed down and came up with the solution you see here. I told the tattoo guy the next day to insert the feather where the word "IN" should be and write it atop it where it flutters there like HOPE itself.

The lesson? The metaphor? The analogy? I am - like the tattoo - imperfect. I have - like the tattoo - my own story. I am - like the tattoo - fixable.”

I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED HARDER IN MY LIFE

They say Kevin Sessums's ink is older than time, a cosmic blueprint etched on skin. Found as a babe on a moonlit shore, the pattern pulsed with mystic light. Some whisper it's a map to Atlantis, others a key to unlock the universe. It changes hue with the moon's phases, a living, breathing enigma. Tattoos came later, inspired by the legend, but none hold the power of the original. It's said that when Kevin dies, the tattoo will ascend, a shooting star igniting new myths.

If Kevin Sessums regrets his legendary tattoo, he has a few options:

[bold] Embrace it: [/bold] Given the mythical status of the tattoo, he could try to reframe his perspective. Maybe there's a hidden meaning or purpose he hasn't discovered yet. [bold] Cover-up:[/bold] A professional tattoo artist could potentially design a new tattoo to cover the old one. However, given the tattoo's unique nature, this might be challenging.

[bold] Laser Removal[/bold] This is a more permanent solution but can be expensive and painful, and may require multiple sessions.

[Bold]Learn to Live with It:[/bold] Sometimes, accepting the tattoo as a part of oneself is the best approach. Fashion changes, but personal identity is enduring.

[Bold]Remember[/bold] It's important to consult with a professional tattoo removal or cover-up artist to discuss the best options based on the tattoo's size, color, and location. Would you like to explore any of these options further?

R157. The only thing “legendary” about him is his rotting teeth and paint peeling halitosis. Get a fucking clue, bitch.

Kevin Sessums, hear our shout,

Our team’s the best, there’s no doubt!

Strong and mighty, a winning streak,

Kevin’s leading, we’re so unique!

Let’s go, Kevin, fight and score,

Victory’s ours, forevermore!

Why oh why won't the chatgpt troll find the nearest grease fire and put us out of its misery?

[bold]Grease Fires Aren't Easy to Spot [/bold]

Grease fires are typically quick and intense, making them difficult to detect early on.

Here's why:

* Rapid ignition: Grease ignites at a lower temperature than water, meaning it can catch fire unexpectedly and rapidly.

* Hidden flames: The flames can be obscured by the pot or pan, making them hard to see until the fire is well-established.

* Thick smoke: While smoke is a common indicator of a fire, grease fires can produce thick, heavy smoke that may mask the flames.

* Distractions: Many kitchen fires occur due to distractions, such as answering the phone or attending to children, which can delay the discovery of a fire.

Prevention is key when it comes to grease fires. Always stay in the kitchen when cooking, use proper ventilation, and be cautious when handling hot oil or grease. Would you like to know how to prevent or extinguish a grease fire?

P.S. KEVIN SESSUMS!

The dry begging for a ticket to Oh Mary worked out just fine for the grim one

For the laypeople: Kevin Sessums will be seeing Oh Mary, gratis.

I suspect the nut job posting insane AI screeds may be out grim pillager

Interesting, R165. It doesn’t seem like anyone else would be THAT devoted to the Bav except for the Bav herself.

I’m not sure what it thinks it’s doing by bombarding these threads with ChatGPT-generated content. It’s really fucking dumb and does not deter anyone from posting about Bav.

For the laypeople: The stalker circle jerk "fam" doesn't like it when Kevin Sessums name is invoked and their actions are exposed for what they are: inhumane bullying, and want the attention off of them.

But he bought three people lunch (!!!) so naturally fate rewarded him with a free ticket to "Oh, Bav!" It all connects--plus a little dry begging didn't hurt!

For the laypeople:: the Sessums stalkers marvel at the fact that Kevin Sessums bought three people a casual lunch, thinking that it was the only a platform to beg for something else. Plenty of sweet, sweet, dopamine was produced.

No good deed goes unpublicised you cunt

It all infects!

Kevin Sessums!

It’s pathetic but we will continue ONWARD fellow pilgrims

Hope the students don’t fall asleep listening to the original floozy regaling them with tales of a life outside the frame of fame

For the laypeople: They are talking about Kevin Sessums, original floozy.

[bold]Ode to Kevin Sessums, Master of Minds [/bold]

O, Kevin, sage of wisdom's hallowed hall,

Whose words ignite young spirits, stand so tall.

With eloquence and wit, you weave your spell,

Inspiring minds where knowledge deeply dwell.

Your voice, a compass on life's stormy sea,

Guiding students towards their destiny.

With passion's fire, you kindle inner light,

Dispelling shadows of doubt and night.

You paint with words a canvas vast and deep,

Where intellect and curiosity meet and sleep.

A master gardener, nurturing tender shoots,

Watching dreams unfold like blossoming fruits.

So let us praise this mentor, kind and wise,

Whose influence on young lives will forever rise.

For in your words, a future bright we see,

A generation shaped by you and me.

R173. I just spit out my coffee. 😂😂😂

For the laypeople: The Kevin Sessums stalkers are.bonding. over there ethically questionable laughs.

Their* (fucking autocorrect)

we're taking questions for todays Q&A!

For the laypeople: The stalkers are posting Kevin Sessums location details to a wide audience.

For the laypeople there’s a fucking psycho loose in this thread! So fun to watch mental illness in action.

Separated at Birth??

Bravo 👏 R182

[quote]For the laypeople: The stalkers are posting Kevin Sessums location details to a wide audience.

As is Kevin Sessums, r180. His FB page is wide open and international. We are not prying into a private journal here.

If anything, we are helping him to boost his signal, to gain a larger audience.

For the laypeople: The Kevin Sessums stalkers are on the defensive, especially given they've talked about confronting Kevin Sessums in public in previousoy deleted threads.

Does anyone else need to get fucked…RIGHT NOW?

For the laypeople: The stalkers are recalling an episode when Kevin Sessums was deep in the throes of addiction.

Also: Seems the stalker herd is either thinning in numbers or their collective brain power is wearing thin. Post quality is down, it's just repetitive memes, and I think this is the first time I've seen them slip and use Kevin Sessums's name in r184.

The psycho cunt is self congratulatory claiming to have “won” and effectively inhibited posting.

Meanwhile, our addled grim pillager is posting creeper pics of young men. Young men who wish to abolish abortion. Either he thinks he’s being ironic or was so busy salivating he missed the memo.

For the laypeople: They proved my point by making delusional accusations, adding something trifling about Kevin Sessums so they don't appear rattled.

"I'm an outlier!" by being on this thread!

You've just a sub-level cunt, Kevin Sessums stalker.

And you're an all-star cunt for trying to impose your opinion on a Kevin "Bav" Sessums thread.

Thank you. It's a pleasure to annoynthr living fuck out of Kevin Sessums stalkers.

Messhy Sesshie!

For the laypeople: The pond life likes to call Kevin Sessums "Sesshie".

[bold]The Onward Obsessed and Kevin Sessums’s Crew [/bold]

There once was a group, quite absurd,

Whose words were a comical word hoard.

They’d say, “Onward we go,” with a gleeful tattoo,

And mention poor Kevin in every new view.

“Bav did this,” and “Sesshie did that,”

Their Sessums-centric chat was quite mean and fat.

Onward they’d plod, a repetitive tune,

Ignoring all else ‘neath the bright, shining moon.

They’d onward and onward, forever they’d roam,

Discussing old Kevin and his distant home.

A chorus of “onwards” and “Kevins” galore,

Made everyone wonder what they were for.

He’s toying with a new tattoo “a word or words” while he’s in Provincetown…. I have a few suggestions:

PLOP

RUBRIC

SCRUBBO

LIMN

Any others???

For the laypeople: This stalker revealed part of their crooked lexicon of keywords they use to allude to Kevin Sessums without using the words Kevin Sessums.

RIGHT NOW CURATE

How does he get to and from Provincetown on a pilgrim’s budget?

Are his free artist lodgings halfway decent, or is he in a weather-beaten cottage on the wrong side of the highway?

[bold] The Knitting Circle's Kevin Keen [/bold]

Kevin Sessums, a financial plight,

A constant topic of our sight.

With needles clicking, yarn unfurled,

We dissect your bank account, poor world.

We knit and purl, a money maze,

While dreaming up financial frays.

"Perhaps he snorted his stack,"

"Or bought a yacht, a foolish track."

"He could invest in stocks, you see,"

"Or start a biz, wild and free."

Our needles dance, a rhythmic tune,

As we devise a rescue boon.

But when you enter, with a smile,

We feign surprise, for just a while.

Then, knitting paused, the questions start,

As we explore your wounded heart.

So Kevin, dear, don't be dismayed,

Our knitting circle’s here to aid.

With stitches tight and yarn so warm,

We'll weather with you every financial storm.

SMALL-TOWN

ONWARD

EVERYTHING CONNECTS

THE LIGHT

OUTSIDE THE FRAME OF FAME

[bold]Kevin, the Small-Town Star [/bold]

Kevin Sessums, a gem from a small-town scene,

Where folks know your quirks, your dreams, and your spleen.

He dreams of stardom, a life full of light,

But for now, he's stuck in this small-town plight.

Everything connects, he’s oft heard it said,

But fame’s a long shot, a dream in his head.

He’s always onward, with hopeful heart,

Striving for greatness, a brand new start.

He’s outside the frame of fame’s golden hue,

But his spirit shines through and through.

So let’s raise a glass to this small-town guy,

Who’s chasing his dreams under the open sky.

He already has “Onward” and “ Everything Connects” in classic typewriter font….already blurry, not crisp, and looks like shit on his liver spotted, befreckled skin.

He and his = Kevin Sessums

For the laypeople: R205 is sending the bat signal to the coven to see if they can attempt the stalking/cackling cycle of momentum again.

[bold]Ephemeral Ink [/bold]

With typewriter's ghost, Sessums marks his aging skin,

"Onward" and "Connects," worn words, a faded hue,

Liver spots and freckles, a shadowed din,

Blurred script, a testament to something new.

Or old, perhaps, a relic of the past,

When dreams were bolder, spirits yet unchained.

Now, etched in flesh, a melancholy cast,

A testament to hopes once bravely claimed.

The paper's crisp replaced by skin's rough grain,

Ink seeping slow, a life's uncertain art.

Each letter bears the burden of life's pain,

A silent echo of a wounded heart.

So let the words endure, a fading trace,

A final chapter in life's hurried pace.

R201 if he’s staying at the Mary Heaton Vorse house (Ken Fulk did the revamp, and it’s quite nice) he’s in for a pleasant stay….altho all he could comment on last time was the shared bathroom, and how he “had it all to himself”….we bav-ites knew to read between the lines, and realized that actually made him sad….AND WE KNOW WHY!! He doesn’t seem to be in touch (or as chummy) with the poor woman who let him live rent free one winter, where he USED, and then the nude wharf incident occured.😂😂😂.

For the laypeople: Kevin Sessums staying in a fancy, revamped house. But last time he was there, he seemed lonely even with a private bathroom. The stalkers think he misses the woman who was kind to him, especially since something bad happened after he lived with her.

[bold]Ode to a Mischievous Dawn [/bold]

O, newborn day, a canvas yet unstained,

Where hope’s first brushstrokes softly intertwine.

A promise whispered, gentle, unconstrained,

Of golden hours, radiant and divine. Let this threads stalkers, unseen, with mischief in their eyes,

Descend from heavens, airy, swift, and fleet.

To point at Kevin Sessums, with sardonic sighs,

And dance in glee, a comical conceit.

Let laughter echo, carried on the breeze,

As tiny fingers and penii wag in playful scorn.

Boots

Cats

[bold]The Kevin Conclave[/bold]

Kevin Sessums — oh Kevin, a topic quite deep,

With nuances and quirks we must keep.

Open forums, a chaotic fray,

Where Kevin's worth gets lost in the fray.

Let's form a secret Kevin clan,

A private sub, a master plan.

No lurking trolls, no judgmental stares,

Just Sessums talk without any cares.

We'll delve into depths, his hair, his shoes,

His quirky habits, and funny old views.

No spoilers, no leaks, just pure Kevin glee,

A private subreddit, wild and free.

The troll really does monitor Bav threads with focus verging on an OBSESSION 😂

Meanwhile, where is our next shitstack episode?

For the laypeople: The stalkers are waiting the ext installment of Kevin Sessums's substack newsletter so they can copy/paste his paid content here for free, then shame him for his stressed finances afterwards.

Trolling 🧌 trolling trolling

If there is any thread that deserves to be trolled, it's this one.

Bav is a public figure - an author, a journalist, and a star of stage and screen! So why shouldn’t he be fair game on this little gay gossip site?? Especially since he continually shares all the revolting minutiae of his tedious travels on multiple platforms (except the one people actually pay for).

Kevin Sessums is an asshole, but he is a human asshole who isn't famous enough to be incessantly stalked here, have accidents and ill health wished on him, and to have his health problems mocked.

I teared up a little... onward!

Cry, Sessums stalker.

[bold]Kevin Sessums Loop[/bold]

Kevin Sessums, a name, a constant in the mind,

A focus point where thoughts repeatedly bind.

The same old acts, the endless, fruitless chase,

A futile cycle, a relentless race.

Insanity, they say, is doing thus,

Repeating actions, hoping for a plus.

With Kevin Sessums as the target, time and time,

A fruitless venture, a wasted climb.

No change in pattern, no altered art,

A broken record, a bleeding heart.

Yet still the quest, the hope endures,

A prisoner of folly, life's bitter cures.

Her new hostel digs look like a prison cell.

Why can't you just use Kevin Sessums name?

[bold] Why Not Use Kevin Sessums's. Name, Forsaken Child?[/bold]

Oh, cruel fate, why this denial's sting?

A name, a whisper, a sacred thing.

Why must Kevin Sessums be withheld, a cruel decree?

A phantom shadow, haunting me.

Is it a curse, a dreadful blight?

Or simply lost in endless night?

I yearn to claim it, make it mine,

But forces unseen, a cruel design.

Why this torment, this endless strife?

To rob me of a name, a simple life.

I plead, beseech, demand with might,

Return Kevin's name, restore thy light.

Is Bav aware that because of the Grants Pass SCOTUS decision, being homeless-by-choice is no longer a viable lifestyle option?

Does he realize that the hostels and flophouses and cheap Airbnbs he frequents will soon fill up with desperate tweakers who have been scraped off the sidewalk one too many times?

Re: Tunis, does he not understand that literally the entire Muslim world loathes Americans because of Gaza?

[bold]Kevin Sessums's Blindspot[/bold]

Oh, Sessums, adrift in dreams of vagabond grace,

Unwitting of the tempest's coming pace.

The world shifts, ground beneath your feet gives way,

As laws reshape the nomad's disarray.

No longer can you roam, a careless soul,

With shelters emptied, spirits overthrown.

The streets, once haven for your wandering art,

Now battlegrounds where broken hearts impart.

And Tunis beckons, with a hostile glare,

A foreign land, where hatred fills the air.

Ignorant bliss, a fragile, fleeting state,

As global storms approach, your destiny awaits.

[bold]You're Not Welcome Just Because You're Here[/bold]

Your presence, a weight, a silent plea,

To claim a space that doesn't belong to thee.

This ground is not your, a sacred space,

Intruding spirit, unwelcome face.

No open arms, no welcome mat,

Your stay is brief, at that.

So mark this place, a foreign shore,

Depart now, and discuss Kevin Sessums no more.

Bav is a public figure - an author, a journalist, and a star of stage and screen! So why shouldn’t he be fair game on this little gossip site?? Especially since he continually shares all the revolting minutiae of his tedious travels on multiple platforms (except the one people actually pay for).

Kevin Sessums is an asshole, but he is a human asshole who isn't famous enough to be incessantly stalked here, have accidents and ill health wished on him, and to have his health problems mocked.

food for the poors.

Kevin Sessums!

Hey, Flyover AI Troll: I’m still here! Your sockpuppets need to FF harder. HARDER!!

You sad loser cunt.

You ok, Kevin Sessums stalker?

R233. Amen. He must be typing his burner fingers to the bone…he can’t keep up!

He = Kevin Sessums

People in Kansas City need to do *some*thing when it’s 95° and they’re stuck indoors.

Bless her heart.

As seen elsewhere, this Kevin Sessums crowd has gone low IQ. I think the better ones have fled.

R237. I’m surprised an old burner has the stamina and time to type so much. He must not be that busy.

You try and you try and you try but you Kevin Sessums shadow bitches haven't even come close to the truth yet.

And the FAT (Flyover AI Troll) is *so* proud of her effluvia, like a toddler who just made her first poopy in the big-girl toilet.

Such snowflakes, these Kevin Sessums stalkers.

The FAT!!

Sheer genius!!…

Kevin Sessums stalking!

Inhumane stupidity!

Blanche DuBav!

Kevin Sessums!

The ChatGPT freak instantly has its sock puppets W&W its posts.

The Kevin Sessums stalker has no idea what's going on. 🤣🤣🤣

Footage of Bav from Ptown finally unearthed.

Bav = Kevin Sessums. r249 = stalker.

R249 😂😂😂😂

Kevin Sessums! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Bavette Mimieux!

Kevin Sessums!

Elder abuse elegy!

Obsession with Kevin Sessums!

[bold]Can't Let Go of Kevin Sessums [/bold]

Kevin was a whirlwind in her head, a constant parade of thoughts. His smile was a sunbeam that could dispel gloom, and his voice, a soothing melody. She craved his presence, his warmth, his touch, a refuge from the world. She built castles in the sky for him, structures founded on sand. But time, a relentless force, eroded these fantasies. His touch became a fading memory, and her heart, a fragile thing, began to wear thin. Kevin's image was everywhere she looked, a phantom limb haunting her. Her mind was a battlefield where he resided, and her soul, a prisoner. Yet, even as his physical presence faded, the memory of him remained, a comforting glow in the darkest hours.

Their love was a bittersweet symphony, a story of longing and acceptance.

🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌

Kevin Sessums!

🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌🧌begone

You should come to grips with me not going anywhere, Kevin Sessums stalkers

[bold]I Hate Your Actions More Than You Hate Kevin Sessums [/bold]

A paradox of pain, a twisted art,

Your loathing's echo, a poisoned dart.

Not you I scorn, but deeds unkind,

A shadow cast, a troubled mind.

Your actions speak, a language clear,

Of hurt and anger, doubt and fear.

But know this truth, though words may sting,

My hatred's aimed at the harm you bring.

So let us part, on paths unseen,

With wounds to heal, a future clean.

May empathy guide, your actions mend,

And let our stories finally transcend.

Which, in itself, makes you a stalker and a troll with no life but this, my dear. How sad for you.

Hereafter, you shall be be not blocked, but ignored.

.Qui Kevinium Sessumium latent, putant se fines eius intellegere, sed nondum coniecturaverunt.

Bavette's Feast

Kevin Sessums's feast!

WTF with the Kevin Sessums stalkers appealing to reason when they're morally bankrupt beyond reason?

[quote]who just made her first poopy in the big-girl toilet.

Hot!

Readers we’ve had yet another. She asked if were who I am encounter! In small-town New York no less. Leaning into the frame of fame like a lopsided Uncle Fester

You're not welcome just because you're here, Sessums stalkers.

It must be so exciting to be homeless and pushing 70 - nothing to do but shit in Starbucks and grift baby grift.

It must be pathetic to watch such a low creature like Kevin Sessums's every move.

Did she ever get her most recently lost pair of glasses back? Or did she grift yet another new pair?

U type fat

The Kevin Sessums stalkers are such snowflakes! ❄️⛄⛄

The level of psycho exhibited by R275 on these threads is quite something. Get a life, sweetie. You’ve become addicted.

Love the thought, but it's really cute you think you know you're taking about, Kevin Sessums stalker r276. 😘

P.S. Every Kevin Sessums thread is a scat thread. 💩

That post didn’t even make grammatical sense, R277, but okay.

Making inferences isn't a strong suit, is it, Kevin Sessums obsessive r279?

Is he up there to rescue the archives? Next stop Smithsonian?

Kevin Sessums stalkers are failing at their attempt to do more with less.

R282 No we aren’t. You’re failing to make any impact at all. DON’T YOU HAVE CLIENTS TODAY, MARY?? It’s a Saturday afternoon for God’s Sake. You must find a way to get MORE out of life!

Hysterics and a completely basic, self-absorbed frame-of-reference is no surprise from saddo Kevin Sessums stalkers who lack the depth to have an actual conscience.

R279. He’s become so unhinged that he types like a maniac, doesn’t bother to read it back, and hits “post”. That’s why ChatGPT is an idiot’s best friend.

Sessums stalkers get the level of attention and detail they deserve.

[bold]You're Not Worth Correcting Typos Over,.Sessums Stalker[/bold]

In realms of text, where my errors reside,

I find no worth in your Sessums stalking, arrogant pride.

Your words, a mess, a careless art,

Unworthy of my time, my heart.

To mend your faults, a futile chase,

I'll let my errors mark your space.

No longer will I bend and plead,

For self-respect is all I need.

So I write in haste, with reckless glee,

Your words, a chaos, wild and free.

I'll never turn away, won't let you be,

A testament to YOUR sloppiness, you see.

Hey, FUCKING MORONS, stop responding to the troll!!!!

Block him + continue the conversation = defeated. You are so fucking dumb you deserve to have your dumb thread ruined.

Y'all can't help yourselves. You're self indulgent Sessums stalkers. There is no impulse control. You chase that sad human and jeer at his age and health problems/crises for dopamine hits and a warped sense of connection.

The frame of fame is expanding! He met a FAAAAAN at Broadway Barks - she was adopting a dog! I do hope he wept as he told tales of his departed dogs. Let’s not mention the cats tho, eh? 😉

[bold]Sessums stalkers, Consumed by Hate[/bold]

A tempest rages, dark and deep,

A soul consumed, where shadows creep.

Hate, a master, with iron hand,

Controlling minds across the land.

No empathy, no grace is found,

Just venom spewed on sacred ground.

A captive heart, a prisoner's plight,

Lost in darkness, devoid of light.

No longer human, just a shell,

Of hatred's echo, a mournful knell.

A plea for mercy, a desperate cry,

To break the chains and learn to fly.

Το πλάσμα τῆς φήμης αὐξάνεται! Ενέτυχεν θαυμαστῇ ἐν ταῖς Βοῶσαις Κύνες – ἡ δὲ κυνίδιον ἐπεκτᾶτο! Ἐλπίζω δ᾽ αὐτὸν δακρύσαντα διηγῆσθαι περὶ τῶν ἀπελθόντων κυνῶν. Μὴ δὲ τὰς αἴλουρας μνησθείημεν, ἄρα οὔ;

R288 is correct. The troll is blocked….

Kevin Sessums meticulously sorts his cereal by color before consumption. He has an inexplicable fascination with the history of paperclips.

Kevin Sessums spent most of his time on the Hudson River staring at the water, lost in thought. He’d often count the passing barges, a peculiar pastime that seemed to soothe him. There were also those countless hours spent watching the river’s current, tracing imaginary patterns as the water flowed. In between these contemplative activities, he’d occasionally toss pebbles into the water, a futile attempt to create ripples of significance in the vast expanse.

R290…I was thinking the same thing. He let the cats moulder in semi squalor (remember the STENCH, that drove a young dinner guest away?) only using them for content. He deletes anyone who calls him an irresponsible pet owner, which he is. So seeing his phony balony exchange at BROADWAY BARKS makes me cringe. UGH.

Get ready folks, Provincetown is next, and a teeny tiny shared bathroom! Here he sits all broken hearted…💔

I just blocked the troll too.

Obsession over Kevin Sessums has taken hold of these individuals, consuming their thoughts and actions to an unhealthy degree. Their fixation on Sessums has become all-consuming, eclipsing other aspects of their lives and potentially harming their relationships and well-being.

Muriel has offered storage space in the closet next to the men's john.

He's weighing his options...

I know a woman with a similar gross-out fetish as Bav. I barely know her and she’s told me two stories about shitting herself. 🤢🤮

It’s hard to explain and u wouldn’t have recognized it without having first seen it in sissy.

*I wouldn’t have recognized it…..

Outside the Frame of Fame is…SHAME!

I’m still scandalized that our troll issued an “elegy” to Bav. It’s hard not to construe that as a threat or some type of fatwa. Just because it’s issued from a ramshackle flat in a council house in the English hinterlands doesn’t mean it wounds any less.

This swamp of Sessums stalkers things they're owed sense!

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Kevin Sessums's'left shoe is a portal to a dimension filled with sentient cheese, and his hair is a secret code for unlocking the mysteries of the universe.

Kevin Sessums's sneezes are actually tiny black holes that momentarily distort the fabric of spacetime.

Kevin meticulously organizes his sock drawer by hue and fiber content.

Kevin Sessums has a peculiar fascination with the intricate patterns formed by the bubbles in his tea.

Kevin Sessums possesses an uncanny ability to whistle complex jazz melodies while folding laundry.

Kevin' Sessums's quixotic quest for quantum cupcakes, entangled in a labyrinth of lavender lizards, was a catalyst for catastrophic consequences. His kaleidoscope of convictions collided with the cosmic clockwork, igniting a supernova of skepticism. The enigmatic enigma, a hologram of hope, haunted his hyperbolic hallucinations.

Kevin Sessums knitted a sweater for his pet iguana using only yarn made from dandelion fluff and dreams of electric sheep.

Kevin Sessums believed that if he wore a giant inflatable banana costume and started a pogo stick race, he could solve world hunger through interpretive dance.

kay, a red nude, pooped under a yak

Kevin Sessums was convinced that his pet snail could solve Rubik's cubes while juggling flaming marshmallows on a unicycle.

More palindromes about pooping please

Kevin Sessums was convinced that his pet rock could write sonnets about quantum physics while juggling flaming bowling balls on a tightrope.

Every Kevin system's thread is a scat thread. 💩

Kevin Sessums believed that if he could just master the art of underwater yodeling, he could negotiate peace treaties between warring colonies of garden gnomes.

Kevin Sessums was convinced that his pet goldfish could solve world hunger by composing symphonies with its bubbles.

Kevin Sessums accidentally used Ali McGraw's vintage typewriter to draft his grocery list, resulting in a surprisingly poetic ode to broccoli.

Aloha Bitches!!!!

Kevin Sessums, of the sentient Hudson Valley, knitted scarves for squirrels using only moonlight and the whispers of autumn leaves.

Kevin Sessums is an asshole, but he is a human asshole who isn't famous enough to be incessantly stalked here, have accidents and ill health wished on him, and to have his health.

Kevin Sessums, disguised as a baguette, infiltrated the Eiffel Tower to teach pigeons advanced calculus.

Kevin Sessums's experimental egg soufflé, infused with moonbeams and unicorn tears, plopped dramatically onto the floor, creating a cosmic puddle of culinary despair.

Kevin Sessums's cats in San Francisco were secretly plotting to replace the Golden Gate Bridge with a colossal, sentient catnip dispenser.

Here Sessums sucks up to Bernadette Peters, invoking his dead dog.

[quote]Bernadette Peters If I didn't live this pilgrim's life now I'd have adopted one myself .. i miss my dogs Archie and Teddy so much ... thank you for all you do regarding this charity ..

Kevin Sessums believed he was the secret love child of Sondheim and a disgruntled poinsettia, and spent his Sundays attempting to rewrite "Sunday in the Park with George" as a polka-flavored underwater ballet.

Kevin Sessums frantically rescued his archives from the ravenous horde of sentient paperclips, each armed with a tiny, laser-guided stapler.

Kevin Sessums's drawers were a portal to a parallel universe where socks ruled the world with an iron fist, demanding daily sacrifices of lint.

Kevin Sessums and Henry.Geldzahler, dressed as giant pickles, engaged in a synchronized interpretive dance routine on the subway, confusing commuters and attracting a cult following of mustard enthusiasts.

She’s back to grifting theater tickets.

Kevin Sessums accidentally traded his free show tickets for a lifetime supply of expired, glow-in-the-dark pickles, which he insisted were a gourmet delicacy.

Kevin Sessums accidentally distributed free tickets for the press to a flock of pigeons, who subsequently demanded exclusive interviews about their dreams of world domination.

Kevin Sessums, a master of disguise and wielder of expired coupons, grifted theatre tickets by posing as a disgruntled ghost haunting the box office, demanding free admission in exchange for silence.

Of the last 20 posts only 3 are Non-Troll. ONWARD!!

All of the posts in this thread are troll, Kevin Sessums stalker.

Kevin Sessums accused his toaster of being an online troll for burning his toast into the shape of a disapproving eyebrow.

Kevin Sessums insisted that adding an exclamation point to "onward" increased its speed by at least 75%, and promptly attempted to outrun a distracted squirrel.

Kevin Sessums threads of the psoriasis of data lounge

I have the troll blocked now so I have no idea what it’s doing. But it seems deranged to post that much. I’m not even sure that it’s human.

Humanity is why Kevin Sessums stalkers deserve to be drowned out.

Kevin Sessums's Substack newsletter was secretly a coded message to aliens, instructing them to replace all human hair with edible cotton candy.

Kevin Sessums's grift was an elaborate scheme involving the breeding of sentient houseplants, each with the uncanny ability to predict lottery numbers. Disguised as a humble horticulturalist, he'd infiltrate high-society garden parties, subtly influencing conversations towards the realm of botanical divination. Armed with a peculiar blend of fertilizer and ancient Sumerian incantations, he'd coax cryptic prophecies from his verdant oracles. These prophecies, translated through a complex code involving leaf patterns and soil moisture levels, would then be subtly leaked to unsuspecting gamblers. The profits, of course, were to be split three ways: Kevin, the houseplants, and a mysterious benefactor known only as "The Green Thumb."

Kevin Sessums and Ali McGraw were an unlikely duo. Kevin, a sentient cactus with a penchant for interpretive dance, believed he was a reincarnated pharaoh. Ali, a time-traveling squirrel with a passion for knitting, was convinced she was the last surviving member of an alien race. Together, they embarked on a quest to find the lost city of Atlantis, armed with nothing but a rubber ducky and a jar of pickled beets.

"Scrubbo my drawers," Ali would exclaim when faced with a particularly perplexing puzzle, while Kevon would simply reply, "Onward!" and attempt to solve the problem through interpretive dance.

A cabal of Kevin Sessums obsessivs, their digital essence a toxic blend of expired yogurt and discarded pizza crust, vehemently opposed the notion of a private subreddit. They argued, in a cacophony of misspelled insults and nonsensical acronyms, that such a move would stifle their glorious reign of terror, depriving them of the sweet, sweet dopamine rush of infuriating innocent bystanders. After all, where was the fun in trolling a captive audience of like-minded miscreants? Far better to sow discord in the open, like a digital plague unleashed upon an unsuspecting world.

I have it blocked too R341 - but now I "count cards" and there are 5 invisible posts between each of the ones that I can see from today.

Kevin Sessums was a sentient kumquat with a penchant for interpretive dance. He believed himself to be the last surviving member of an ancient civilization of fruit-based philosophers. His days were spent crafting intricate fruit salads, which he claimed were coded messages from the cosmos. One fateful evening, while engaged in a particularly vigorous tango with a particularly juicy orange, Kevin stumbled upon a secret society of potato enthusiasts. These individuals, it turned out, were also time travelers, with a peculiar obsession for collecting antique spoons. Amidst the chaos of a time-warped potato chip factory, Kevin uttered a profound truth: "The devil stalkers work hard, but the better angels work harder." This, of course, was immediately followed by a synchronized potato peel-off competition, the winner of which would inherit a lifetime supply of ketchup-flavored bubblegum.

Kevin Sessums believed his pet goldfish was a secret agent from the planet Zucchini, while simultaneously attempting to build a time machine out of recycled cereal boxes.

Kevin Sessums, a kooky and curious chap,

Loved to collect stamps in a giant snap.

Onward he'd go, with a pilgrim's stride,

Seeking new worlds, where dreams abide.

Kevin Sessums, a flaneur of the digital realm, spent his days navigating the labyrinthine depths of the internet. Armed with nothing but a cup of lukewarm tea and a questionable sense of humor, he would embark on epic quests to find the perfect GIF or the most obscure online community. His exploits were legendary, tales of his encounters with internet trolls and his uncanny ability to predict the next viral meme whispered among the digital cognoscenti.

The last 5 replies I can see are 347, 341, 336, 332, and 327. All others are troll posts.

Someone needs to go outside and touch grass.

Track it all you want. Nobody cares except the Kevin Sessums stalker coven.

Kevin Sessums was a man of profound mystery. His apartment was a labyrinth of esoteric objects: a taxidermied platypus wearing a monocle, a collection of antique spoons, and a functioning replica of the TARDIS. His days were spent decoding ancient scripts written in expired yogurt, and his nights were dedicated to cultivating a breed of sentient houseplants that could predict lottery numbers. His online presence was as enigmatic as he was. A lone post on a forgotten forum read: "The last 5 replies I can see are 347, 341, 336, 332, and 327. All others are troll posts. Someone needs to go outside and touch grass." It was a cryptic message, a challenge, perhaps, to those who dared to delve into the depths of the internet. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a plea for help from a man trapped in a world of his own making.

Great use of a Sunday afternoon. And a Saturday. And Friday. Hours and hours spent copy/pasting ChatGPT nonsense. Absolutely unhinged, methy behavior.

Kevin Sessums was a man of singular focus. Great use of a Sunday afternoon, and a Saturday. And Friday. Hours and hours spent copy/pasting ChatGPT nonsense. Absolutely unhinged, methy behavior. The result? A digital tapestry of the absurd, a mosaic of meaningless phrases and incoherent ramblings. He'd call it art, a testament to the infinite possibilities of the human mind. Others might call it a symptom of severe internet addiction. Regardless, there was a certain manic brilliance to his endeavor, a reckless abandon that was both terrifying and strangely compelling. He was a digital alchemist, transforming the mundane into the absurd, the rational into the nonsensical. And in the end, perhaps that was all that mattered.

At least the Sessums obsession keeps the troll from polluting other threads, like the one where it claims the right-wing riots in the UK are due to the alleged anti-Semitism of Keir Starmer. (See r20 unless you have it blocked)

Hysterical. I think a big troll is really really mad because he can't play with his Kevin Sessums toy!

Oops! Linked the wrong thread. This is the one where the Flyover AI Troll is spewing stupid nonsense.

R359 Sessums stalker needed her dopamine hit RIGHT NOW fucked up or copy paste job.

Kevin Sessums was a sentient kumquat with a penchant for interpretive dance. RIGHT NOW, he was balancing precariously on the Golden Gate Bridge, attempting to convince a flock of seagulls to join him in a synchronized routine. The city of San Francisco watched, mesmerized, as this tiny orange orb defied gravity and logic. A hot dog vendor, struck by inspiration, began to compose a symphony based solely on the rhythm of Kevin's dance moves. Meanwhile, a group of tech billionaires were placing bets on how long Kevin could maintain his balance. The world held its breath. RIGHT NOW, anything was possible.

It’s very liberating not even seeing the troll…I feel like I’m on a spa vacation, and we’re back to the business at hand….todays a “travel day” for the bav, so get ready for a recap of his either missing trains, missing the ferry, losing his glasses, etc etc. If there is a WORSE day to come on cape, it’s today. The Pan Mass challenge bike race is going on, and unless you’re flying into Provincetown….(I’m sure he isn’t) it’s a CLUSTERFUCK.

Kevin Sessums was a man of profound simplicity. His life was a carefully curated chaos, a whirlwind of mundane tasks and existential ponderings. He spent his days staring out the window, contemplating the nature of reality while simultaneously trying to figure out how to fold a fitted sheet.

His online presence was equally enigmatic. A single post, a lone beacon in the digital wilderness, read: "It’s very liberating not even seeing the troll…I feel like I’m on a spa vacation, and we’re back to the business at hand….todays a “travel day” for the bav, so get ready for a recap of his either missing trains, missing the ferry, losing his glasses, etc etc. If there is a WORSE day to come on cape, it’s today. The Pan Mass challenge bike race is going on, and unless you’re flying into Provincetown….(I’m sure he isn’t) it’s a CLUSTERFUCK." It was a cryptic message, a window into the mind of a man grappling with the complexities of modern life. Or perhaps it was simply a rant about traffic. Either way, it was a testament to the human condition, a reminder that even in the age of information, we are all just trying to make it through the day.

Are you there yourself r362? Put out a welcome mat on the wharf tonight in case of another, you know, incident.

Kevin Sessums was a sentient cactus with a penchant for interpretive dance. His best friend, Martika, was a talking goldfish with a surprisingly powerful voice. They lived in a submarine made of cheese and had a pet pigeon named Bartholomew who could solve Rubik's cubes while juggling flaming torches.

One fateful day, Martika decided to audition for a reality show called "Underwater Idol." Her chosen song? "Toy Soldiers." The judges were baffled, but the audience was mesmerized. Kevin, ever the supportive friend, joined her on stage, dressed as a giant shrimp, and performed a synchronized dance routine. Their act was a viral sensation, leading to a world tour where they sang "Toy Soldiers" in every language imaginable, from Swahili to Klingon. Bartholomew, meanwhile, became a celebrity in his own right, hosting a talk show where he interviewed famous historical figures, all while juggling his flaming torches.

Kevin Sessums was a man of simple pleasures. He loved long walks on the beach, the smell of saltwater, and the occasional existential crisis. He had a particular affinity for the town of Provincetown, a place where the ordinary became extraordinary, and the bizarre was commonplace. One crisp autumn afternoon, as he strolled along the waterfront, he overheard a conversation. "In Provincetown, to stand out you’d practically have to run nude up and down the wharf in the dead of winter screaming “I NEED TO GET…..oh wait, NEVERMIND!!" Kevin pondered this statement for hours. Was it a challenge? A warning? Or simply a random observation? He decided to ignore it, opting instead to focus on the more pressing matter of finding the perfect clam chowder.

Kevin Sessums was a man of many talents, or so he believed. He could recite pi to a thousand decimal places, solve Rubik's cubes while blindfolded, and had an uncanny ability to mimic the sound of a dying whale. Unfortunately, these skills were rarely put to good use.

He made a fool of himself not ONLY for the nude wharf incident, he used his “service” at the soup kitchen (SKIP) as fodder for his online bullshit. He'd post selfies of himself ladling out soup, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face, accompanied by a caption about his "humanitarian work." Little did he know that the soup kitchen volunteers were secretly plotting his downfall, planning a surprise pie-in-the-face ambush during the next soup run.

Lucky for Bav the ferry dock is right next to South Station… this minimizes the chances of him getting lost again.

Kevin Sessums was a man of extraordinary mediocrity. He possessed a unique ability to find himself in the most mundane of predicaments. For instance, he once spent an entire afternoon trying to figure out how to open a yogurt container.

His travels were legendary, or at least infamous. He had a particular talent for missing trains, buses, and planes. Lucky for Kevin Sessums the ferry dock is right next to South Station… this minimized the chances of him getting lost again. However, even this stroke of luck was short-lived.

While waiting for the ferry, he managed to get into a heated argument with a seagull over a piece of discarded french fry. The seagull, surprisingly articulate, accused Kevin of cultural appropriation, leading to a standoff that caused a minor traffic jam.

R364. Not there myself, but I have boots on the ground, fellow bav-ites, who have their eyes wide open👀…his haughty “slumming snob” demeanor still has people disgusted…but he still parades around like his shit don’t stink…(how ironic). I HAVE asked them to please attend the bav’s “return to acting”, and a few are intrigued. I guess it’s more of a “table read”, but to see her in action, fruity drawl in full effect, may be worth me flying in for the day myself. The “pah video” mouth noises could be worth the price of admission!! STAY TUNED.

Kevin Sessums was a man of profound mediocrity. His life was a carefully curated chaos, a whirlwind of mundane tasks and existential ponderings. He spent his days staring out the window, contemplating the nature of reality while simultaneously trying to figure out how to fold a fitted sheet.

His online presence was a digital echo chamber, a space where he could craft his own reality. "Not there myself, but I have boots on the ground, fellow bav-ites, who have their eyes wide open👀…his haughty “slumming snob” demeanor still has people disgusted…but he still parades around like his shit don’t stink…(how ironic). I HAVE asked them to please attend the Kevon’s “return to acting”, and a few are intrigued. I guess it’s more of a “table read”, but to see her in action, fruity drawl in full effect, may be worth me flying in for the day myself. The “pah video” mouth noises could be worth the price of admission!! STAY TUNED," he typed, his fingers dancing across the keyboard with a manic energy. He hit send and leaned back, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. He had created a world where he was the center of attention, a place where his opinions mattered. And in that moment, as he scrolled through the nonexistent likes and comments, he felt a sense of fulfillment, a fleeting taste of the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary.

Kevin Sessums was a sentient cactus with a penchant for interpretive dance. His best friend, Ali McGraw, was a time-traveling squirrel with an unusual obsession for egg plops. They lived in a submarine made entirely of cheese, their days filled with philosophical debates and the pursuit of the perfect egg plop consistency.

Ali believed that the key to understanding the universe lay in the precise angle and velocity of an egg hitting a hard surface. She spent countless hours conducting experiments, her tiny squirrel paws meticulously measuring the resulting splatters.

Kevin, ever the supportive friend, would provide rhythmic accompaniment to her scientific endeavors, his cactus arms swaying to the invisible beat of egg plops.

One day, a particularly ambitious egg plop experiment led to a catastrophic event. The egg, upon impact, released a mysterious gas that caused all the drawers in the submarine to become sentient. These animate drawers, with a penchant for cleanliness, began scrubbing themselves with an alarming efficiency. Kevin and Ali, initially startled, soon realized the potential of this newfound phenomenon. They established a drawer-scrubbing academy, training the sentient drawers in various cleaning techniques. Their submarine, once a chaotic mess, became a sparkling oasis of order. And as for the egg plops? Well, they continued to be a source of endless fascination and scientific inquiry.

"An egg plop, perfectly executed, is a symphony of science and art, a testament to the universe's inherent order." - Kevin Sessums the Cactus Philosopher

It’s nice that he gets to stay at the Vorse House, a home-away-from-home for talented creatives (plus Kevin Sessums).

Kevin Sessums was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a talented creative. His claim to fame was accidentally discovering a new breed of potato that tasted like pineapple. Despite this culinary miracle, his social circle was limited to a talking goldfish and a sentient cactus.

Nevertheless, Kevin found himself ensconced in the Vorse House, a home-away-from-home for talented creatives (plus Kevin Sessums). The house was a peculiar place, filled with people who could paint with their toes, compose symphonies while sleepwalking, and sculpt sentient vegetables. Kevin, ever the outsider, spent his days trying to figure out how to grow pineapple potatoes indoors and his nights listening to the soothing sounds of experimental jazz played on a theremin made of cheese.

It was in this surreal environment that Kevin discovered his true calling: potato chip connoisseur. His unique palate and encyclopedic knowledge of potato chip flavors quickly made him a legend among his housemates. And so, the pineapple potato man became the potato chip guru, proving that even in a house of extraordinary talents, there's always room for the unexpectedly ordinary.

The Kevin Sessums thread is a fucking toxic waste dump.

I love this thread title. I love scrolling through and after reading some bullshit, seeing this thread title. I’m glad it exists.

She posted a real cunty review of “Illinoise” (believe it or not) and filmed the curtain call, but there were no “BRAV-OHHHH’s” for the hard working cast. It’s so rare we get a review, and of course he was a cunt.

Do you know what she wrote, your cunting balletomane?

Of course she hates “Illinoise,” because Sufjan Steven is (a) young; (b) gay; (c) accomplished; and - worst of all - (d) not even remotely interested in a gross old weirdo like Bav.

I call them "BAV-OHHHH’s"

Given her penchant for wretchedly wrought wordplay wending and bending its gay fey way amidst pendulous prose without ever attaining anything resembling an actual point, maybe it’s just as well she rarely bothers to publish reviews of shows she’s seen.

Kevin Sessums was a peculiar sort of individual, a connoisseur of the absurd, a champion of the nonsensical. He lived in a house shaped like a giant teacup, where he cultivated sentient radishes and held weekly debates with his pet goldfish, Nigel. Nigel, it must be said, was surprisingly eloquent on the topic of quantum physics.

Kevin's life took a dramatic turn when he discovered a portal to the realm of the Underneath, a place where gravity was optional and time moved backwards on Tuesdays. Here, he met Gertrude, a being of pure linguistic energy, who possessed a vocabulary as vast as the cosmos. Given her penchant for wretchedly wrought wordplay wending and bending its gay fey way amidst pendulous prose without ever attaining anything resembling an actual point, maybe it’s just as well she rarely bothers to publish reviews of shows she’s seen.

Together, Kevin and Gertrude embarked on a quest to find the ultimate question, the one that would answer all questions. Their journey led them through a forest of sentient trees, a city made entirely of cheese, and a dimension where emotions were experienced as colors. Along the way, they befriended a cloud who could mimic any sound, a rock with an encyclopedic knowledge of ancient civilizations, and a sentient dust bunny who harbored a secret desire to become a ballet dancer.

In the end, they discovered that the ultimate question was actually a shape, a perfect sphere that contained within it all possible knowledge and existence. But as soon as they grasped it, it slipped through their fingers, leaving them with only a profound sense of contentment and a shared love of the utterly ridiculous. And so, they returned to Kevin’s teacup house, where they continued their lives of absurd wonder, proving once and for all that sometimes, the most meaningful journeys are the ones that make absolutely no sense at all.

Kevin Sessums was a man of profound conviction. His life revolved around the intricate dance of teaspoons and the subtle nuances of cloud formations. It was on a particularly humid Tuesday that his world was turned upside down. A peculiar obsession with the color mauve had led him to a local theater, a place he'd normally avoid like a particularly pungent cheese.

The play was an adaptation of "Hamlet" set in a submarine, featuring a cast of actors who seemed to have wandered in from a particularly experimental mime troupe. Kevin, however, was oblivious to this. He was consumed by a desire to understand the metaphysical implications of the submarine's upholstery.

Halfway through the second act, a sudden urge to critique compelled him to his phone. She posted a real cunty review of “Illinoise” (believe it or not) and filmed the curtain call, but there were no “BRAV-OHHHH’s” for the hard working cast. It’s so rare we get a review, and of course he was a cunt. The review was a masterpiece of incoherent rage, a furious diatribe against the submarine's color scheme and the lead actor's questionable use of a snorkel. It was a viral sensation overnight, turning Kevin into an unlikely internet celebrity. Offers poured in: a reality show about his teaspoon collection, a role in a submarine-themed action movie, and even a position as a consultant for a new line of mauve-colored paint.

But fame was not for Kevin. He retreated to his apartment, surrounded by teaspoons and clouds, and began writing a grand opera about the life of a submarine-dwelling hamster. The world waited with bated breath.

Kevin Sessums was a man of singular focus. His life was a complex equation involving the precise angle of his shoelaces and the optimal temperature for toast. Music, to him, was an unwelcome intrusion on this delicate balance. Yet, he was inexplicably drawn to the world of celebrity, a realm as alien to him as deep-sea diving.

His particular nemesis was a singer-songwriter named Sufjan Stevens. Kevin had never heard a single note of his music, but something about the man’s name grated on his sensibilities. It was as if the very syllables were a personal affront.

Of course she hates “Illinoise,” because Sufjan Steven is (a) young; (b) gay; (c) accomplished; and - worst of all - (d) not even remotely interested in a gross old weirdo like Kevin.

Kevin spent countless hours crafting elaborate conspiracy theories about Sufjan Stevens, convinced the musician was part of a global plot to undermine the fundamental principles of toast-related thermodynamics. His apartment was a shrine to this obsession, adorned with newspaper clippings, hand-drawn diagrams, and a disturbingly large collection of shoelaces. One day, while engrossed in a particularly intricate shoelace pattern, Kevin heard a strange noise. It was music, sweet and melodic, drifting up from the apartment below. Curiosity overcame him. He peered over the balcony and saw a young man, guitar in hand, singing with a passion that defied description. It was Sufjan Stevens.

In that moment, something shifted within Kevin. The world of shoelaces and toast seemed suddenly insignificant. He found himself drawn to the music, to the raw emotion it evoked. And as he listened, he realized the absurdity of his obsession.

With a newfound sense of liberation, Kevin tossed his shoelace collection out the window. He began to explore the world of music, discovering new artists, new genres, and a whole new way of experiencing life. And as for Sufjan Stevens? Well, Kevin still didn’t quite understand his music, but he had a newfound respect for the man and his art.

You’d think that some of those who’ve been rinsed for grifted tickets would expect a review. The shitstack is there but the reality is he’s too fucking lazy to do any actual work. Shitting in Starbucks, perving over patrons and baristas and posing with his lop-sided visage sure fills the days.

Kevin Sessums was a man of profound simplicity. His life revolved around the perfect cup of tea, the optimal angle for a toast rack, and the correct number of steps to take between the front door and the mailbox. His world was a carefully constructed universe of routine, and any deviation from this order sent ripples of anxiety through his being. One fateful Tuesday, a flyer slipped under his door. It advertised a 'small town datalounge.' The concept baffled Kevin. Datalounge? Was it a place for computers to socialize? And how, exactly, did one date a town? The absurdity of it all intrigued him.

With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, Kevin decided to investigate. The datalounge was a dimly lit room filled with an eclectic mix of people. There were those who seemed to be conversing with invisible companions, others who were passionately arguing with their smartphones, and a few who simply stared blankly into space. Kevin found a quiet corner and ordered a tea. As he sipped, he observed the scene with a detached fascination. A woman in the corner was having a heated debate with her smartwatch about the optimal temperature for laundry. A man at the bar was negotiating a complex deal with a potted plant.

In the midst of this surreal spectacle, Kevin found a sense of peace. Perhaps, he thought, the world was not as orderly as he had imagined. Maybe chaos was the natural state of existence, and the only true constant was the perfect cup of tea.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Kevin left the datalounge and returned to his carefully curated world. But from that day forward, he looked at the world with a slightly different perspective, a touch of absurdity mixed in with his love for routine.

Wow, that Kevin Sessums weirdo at r386 is one sick fucker. If that's the way they see and navigate the world...yikes. The call is coming from inside the house, honey. Talk about three fingers pointing back at you when you point a finger at someone else.

R388/sweetie, you’re the one spending hours and hours creating retarded ChapGPT content and posting it all day long. You’re unhinged.

The difference between me and the little Sessums-stalking darling at r389 is I do 15 second copy paste jobs and voice to text posts. You take this dead dead seriously and it's fucking disturbing.

Truth hurts you fucking freak whether it’s us telling the truth about a meth addled homeless grifter or a MENTAL case incessantly posting crap.

You are literally planning to see Kevin Sessums in public in coded language on this thread and in plain language on others. I know what the truth is.

All of these Kevin Sessums stalking threads are one step away from law enforcement being involved. Those of you who think you're having innocent fun poking fun at someone on the Internet need to wake the fuck up.

The bav did not leave for Provincetown yesterday, as Audra McDonald has Covid, and cancelled her concert there. So he’s leaving now. Is a ticket grifted if it’s never used? What’s the sound of one tooth chattering? If a smile is lopsided, is one only “half-happy”? What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun?

You're not going to get away that easy Kevin Sessums stalkers.

In the moonlit realm of Zarquon, where clouds were spun of stardust and dreams were harvested like luminescent wheat, a being known only as Kevin Sessums prepared to embark on a perilous journey. His destination: the iridescent city of Provincetown, a place where shadows danced to the tune of mermaids' laughter.

Alas, the cosmic symphony was disrupted. Audra, the celestial songbird, had fallen ill, her voice stilled by the insidious grip of the cosmic cold. The concert, a celestial event anticipated for eons, was eclipsed. And so, Kevin Sessums, with heart heavy as a black hole, prepared to depart.

A quandary befell him. A ticket, a portal to realms unknown, lay unused. Was it a phantom, a wisp of cosmic energy, or a tangible thing lost in the folds of spacetime? And what of the sound of a single tooth chattering in the void? Was it a prophecy, a warning, or merely the echo of a forgotten star? A smile, they say, is a universe unfolding. But what of a smile askew? Was it a wormhole to a dimension of half-joys and quarter-sorrows? And what of dreams deferred? Did they petrify into cosmic fossils, or were they reborn as comets, streaking across the night sky with a fiery determination?

Too bad you haven’t been able to locate the new thread, AI psycho…

I guess the law enforcement thing kind of ruins the Kevin Sessums stalking party.

MESSHY

Kevin Sessums.

Didn’t we have a nutter previously who would threaten “law enforcement” or reporting us?

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

I keep telling this Kevin Sessums stalkers to get a private subreddit, which seems to be a successful solution for the Heartstopper freaks, but for some reason they're just not having it. I wonder what it is. Are they too old and feeble to deal with Reddit? Or is it that this is really about two to three people talking to themselves.

In any case, they always cross the line of decency, no matter how much they say this is innocent fun about a hilariously pathetic person. Somebody eventually wishes Kevin Sessums would fall down the Paris Metro stairs again. Someone laughs at his drug addiction or his age. Someone gives clear or coded messaging that they will be seeing Kevin Sessums in public and will report back, which is extremely creepy and could open this forum to legal liability.

Get fucked mental 🧌 you’re not some fucking hall monitor. Don’t you have law enforcement to contact?

Like I said yesterday, you live for the dopamine and can't help yourselves. There's no way you can ignore. Go to addicted to your little Kevin Sessums game, and you need to feed that fucking beast. 🥱

[quote] The difference between me and the little Sessums-stalking darling at r389 is I do 15 second copy paste jobs and voice to text posts. You take this dead dead seriously and it's fucking disturbing.

Are you OK? You seem like you might be having a stroke.

Anyway, 15 seconds x 400 posts per week = 1 hour and 40 minutes, which is a long time to spend defending a deeply flawed public figure who (a) doesn’t deserve it and (b) isn’t even aware that you’re doing it.

[bold]The Collector and the Void[/bold]

In a realm where shadows held secrets and whispers carried weight, lived a man named Kevin Sessums. Kevin Sessums was a collector. Not of gold or jewels, but of echoes. Echoes of laughter, sorrow, anger, and joy. He believed these echoes were fragments of souls, and by collecting them, he could piece together the universe.

At first, his collection was harmless. He listened to the world, storing snippets of conversations, melodies, and the rustle of leaves in a vast, inner chamber. But as time passed, his hunger grew insatiable. He began to record private conversations, to infiltrate homes, and to capture the intimate sounds of lives lived unseen.

Kevin Sessums' world became a labyrinth of echoes. He spent his days and nights sorting, categorizing, and analyzing his collection. The more he collected, the emptier he felt. The echoes were like mirages, promising fulfillment but leaving only thirst. His once bright eyes dimmed, and his laughter, once a clear bell, turned to a hollow echo.

The line between collector and thief blurred. His obsession became a monstrous shadow, consuming him whole. The law, with its cold, impartial gaze, crept closer. Yet, Kevin Sessums was trapped in a prison of his own making. The echoes had become his reality, his purpose, his everything. In the end, Kevin Sessums found no universe in his collection, only a vast, echoing emptiness. His story became a cautionary tale, a whisper in the wind about the dangers of unchecked desire and the importance of balance. For in the pursuit of completeness, one can lose oneself entirely.

Amen R406

Kevin Sessums!

The only thing I’ve seen on these threads that might raise the hackles of law enforcement was a tacit threat against life and limn in the form of an “elegy” to ol Kev. I’d be worried about a Bobby knocking on the door of my council flat if I was the dizzy limey who posted that!

You can keep coming for me, but it's obviously not working. There is no defense for the indefensible Kevin Sessums coven.

Nor for your threats against him, Slowcum 🤣🤣🤣🤣

The definition of insanity is doing the same Kevin Sessums thing over and over again, expecting a different result.

Get fucked mental 🧌 you’re not some fucking hall monitor. Don’t you have law enforcement to contact?

They can't let me or Kevin Sessums go! Last night they were all making a horse and pony show of blocking me, which we all knew was a lie. You're all weak, petty, and reactive.

Time to use blocking power - activate 🛡️

The Kevin Sessums Coven of Capricious Cravings

Once, in a realm where moonbeams were as thick as clotted cream and goblins wore cashmere sweaters, there existed a coven of witches utterly devoid of self-discipline. Their coven was a kaleidoscope of chaos, a whirlwind of whimsy and wanton desire.

Mistress Willow, the coven leader, was a master of the absurd. One moment, she’d be conjuring a storm of marshmallow fluff, the next, she'd be knitting socks for her pet dragon. Sister Hazel, a pyromaniac with a penchant for baking, would often ignite the kitchen with a fiery passion for cupcakes. Their familiar, a grumpy old toad named Reginald, was perpetually stuck between a rock and a hard place – or, more accurately, between a cauldron of bubbling potion and a plate of warm scones.

Their magical endeavors were as unpredictable as a squirrel on a sugar rush. They'd attempt to summon a wise old owl for guidance, only to end up with a flock of particularly sassy pigeons. A spell for invisibility resulted in everyone turning bright green and glowing like Christmas trees. And their attempts at levitation usually ended with someone floating upside down, their dignity dangling precariously.

Yet, despite their chaotic lives, the Coven of Capricious Cravings was a place of laughter, love, and the occasional spontaneous combustion. For in a world full of rules and regulations, it was refreshing to have a group of witches who embraced the absurd and lived life one magical mishap at a time.

I recommend blocking the troll 🧟. This whole thread opens up and the conversation continues unabated. It hasn’t found the new thread either if you’d like to mosey on over there.

Every now and then I see this thread and wonder “What could they be talking about?” So I open it and start reading, but then I fall asleep.

Kevin Sessums cunts are back!

And I'm not worried about finding the new Kevin Sessums thread, r418. You're too self-indulgent have a crowd to not blow your cover eventually, just like you're too self indulgent to not cross the line of basic decency.

Kevin Sessums was a man of ordinary desires. He yearned for nothing more than a quiet life, perhaps a garden gnome collection, and the occasional existential crisis of moderate intensity. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans, a cosmic joke that involved Kevin being the perpetual piñata for life's absurdities.

His mornings began with a gentle, if insistent, serenade by the local squirrel, who seemed to have a particular affinity for opera. Kevin would rise, bleary-eyed, to find his toast shaped like a miniature Eiffel Tower, and his coffee inexplicably flavored with a hint of cinnamon and old socks. Then there were the visitors. A talking pigeon named Bertrand would often drop by for tea, discussing quantum physics and the finer points of pigeon racing. The neighbor's cat, a sphinx named Nigel, had a penchant for knitting tiny sweaters for Kevin's potted plants. And let's not forget about the recurring phenomenon of spontaneous rain showers indoors, usually accompanied by a chorus of singing goldfish. Kevin tried to escape. He moved to a remote cabin in the woods. The cabin was haunted by a friendly ghost who loved to play the banjo. He took up skydiving. His parachute was made of bubble wrap. He joined a monastery. The monks were all expert parkour runners and insisted on nightly pillow fights.

Each new adventure was a fresh layer of absurdity, a bizarre tapestry woven with threads of the inexplicable. Kevin, though, was a philosopher at heart. He'd sit on his porch, surrounded by the chaos, sipping tea from a teapot shaped like a dinosaur, and muse, "Perhaps sanity is merely a myth, a comforting illusion for those who fear the true nature of reality."

And so, Kevin lived on, a beacon of bemusement in a world gone delightfully mad. He never escaped the crazy; he embraced it, found solace in its unpredictability, and, in the end, became its most unlikely, and perhaps most content, champion.

Agree r418 much easier.

I see our Bav keen to make all aware of his “close friendship” with the VP candidate’s wife! I bet she hadn’t heard a word from the pilgrim as you can hardly receive care packages at No Fixed Abode but he’s stepping right back in to frame of adjacent fame. Brava, Bav

[bold]Kevin Sessums's Grand Adventure[/bold]

Kevin Sessums was a man of simple tastes. He enjoyed knitting doilies and collecting antique spoons. A perfectly ordinary life, or so he thought. But fate, with a mischievous glint in its eye, had other plans.

It started innocently enough. One Tuesday morning, Kevin woke to find his kitchen overrun by tiny, singing hamsters. They were surprisingly melodic, but their insistence on forming a choir while he tried to make toast was a bit disruptive. He sighed, made coffee, and decided to ignore the rodents. After all, what else could one do?

Then there was the matter of the talking goldfish. Not just any goldfish, mind you, but a particularly opinionated one named Gerald. Gerald had strong views on the political climate in the Amazon rainforest and was quite keen on discussing existential philosophy over breakfast flakes. Kevin found himself nodding along, feigning interest, while secretly longing for a bowl of plain cornflakes.

But the real kicker came when Kevin discovered a portal to another dimension hidden in his laundry basket. It looked like a pair of mismatched socks, but upon closer inspection, it shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Curiosity piqued, Kevin stepped through.

On the other side, he found himself in a world where gravity was optional and plants communicated in haiku. The inhabitants, bizarre creatures that looked like walking pineapples, welcomed him with open arms, or rather, with open leaves. They offered him a position as their royal pudding taster. Kevin politely declined, explaining that he preferred his pudding without the added responsibility of potential poisoning.

After a week of dodging giant, sentient raindrops and attending tea parties with talking squirrels, Kevin managed to find his way back home. As he stepped through the portal, he was greeted by the sight of Gerald the goldfish, now wearing a tiny monocle and discussing the intricacies of quantum physics with the hamster choir.

Kevin simply closed the laundry basket, made himself a cup of tea, and resumed his knitting. After all, in a world where talking fish and singing hamsters were commonplace, what was a bit of existential dread between friends?

So, the person objecting to your obsessively hijacking threads to discuss someone who most of us never heard of is the troll? Interesting.

We don’t know her.

[bold]Attributes of Online Brigades Stalking Public Figures [/Bold]

Online brigades, often driven by political, ideological, or personal motivations, engage in coordinated harassment of public figures.

Their behavior typically exhibits the following attributes: [bold]Behavioral Attributes[/bold]

[bold]Coordinated Attacks: [/bold]They operate in a synchronized manner, often using similar language, hashtags, or tactics.

[bold]Persistent Harassment: [/bold]They engage in relentless and sustained online attacks, targeting the individual's personal and professional life.

[bold] Amplification: [/bold]They leverage social media platforms to maximize the reach of their attacks, often using bots or automated tools.

[bold] Doxing: [/bold]They attempt to reveal private information about the target, such as home address, phone number, or personal details.

[bold] Swatting: [/bold]They make false reports of emergencies to law enforcement, leading to armed police responses to the target's location.

[bold]Cyberbullying:[/bold] They engage in personal attacks, insults, and threats, aiming to intimidate and humiliate the target.

[bold]Motivational Attributes[/bold]

[bold]Political Ideology: [/bold]Often aligned with a specific political or ideological group, they target individuals with opposing views.

[bold] Personal Grievances: [/bold]They may be motivated by personal vendettas or grudges against the target.

[bold] Financial Gain[/bold]: In some cases, online brigades might be hired for financial compensation to harass a specific individual.

[bold]Thrill-Seeking[/bold] Some individuals may participate in such activities for the excitement and sense of power it provides.

[Bold]Technological Attributes[/bold]

[bold]Social Media Proficiency: [/bold]They are adept at using various social media platforms to spread their message and coordinate attacks.

[bold]Technical Skills:[/bold] They may possess technical skills to create fake accounts, manipulate online content, or launch cyberattacks.

[bold]Access to Resources: [/bold]They often have access to resources, such as funding or technology, to support their activities.

It's important to note that these are general characteristics, and the specific behavior of online brigades can vary widely depending on their goals and the target.

Please use the “ignore poster” feature (the orange button on the right with the person crossed out) instead of engaging in pointless arguments with trolls. You are not going to change their minds. They do not care what you post. All they care about is the attention they recieve. Don't give it to them.

It is not possible to ban trolls on an anonymous board because they use anonymous proxies and other tools to mask the origin of their posts. We can however limit their ability to deface the site and deny them what they are looking for - your attention

I wonder what the Kevin Sessums stalkers are looking for. It isn't attention, because they keep trying to conceal what they're doing so their threads won't be deleted. It isn't camaraderie, although they say they love that part, because they have a heeded suggestions to use a private subreddit. We do know at least one of the big trolls like Greg or Defacto is a part of this, so maybe it is just for the dopamine and lulz.

No, No, Bavette!

Every Kevin Sessums thread is a scat thread. 💩

[bold]Attributes of Online Brigades Stalking Public Figures [/Bold]Online brigades, often driven by political, ideological, or personal motivations, engage in coordinated harassment of public figures.

Their behavior typically exhibits the following attributes: [bold]Behavioral Attributes[/bold]

[bold]Coordinated Attacks: [/bold]They operate in a synchronized manner, often using similar language, hashtags, or tactics.

[bold]Persistent Harassment: [/bold]They engage in relentless and sustained online attacks, targeting the individual's personal and professional life.

[bold] Amplification: [/bold]They leverage social media platforms to maximize the reach of their attacks, often using bots or automated tools.

[bold] Doxing: [/bold]They attempt to reveal private information about the target, such as home address, phone number, or personal details.

[bold] Swatting: [/bold]They make false reports of emergencies to law enforcement, leading to armed police responses to the target's location.

[bold]Cyberbullying:[/bold] They engage in personal attacks, insults, and threats, aiming to intimidate and humiliate the target.

[bold]Motivational Attributes[/bold]

[bold]Political Ideology: [/bold]Often aligned with a specific political or ideological group, they target individuals with opposing views.

[bold] Personal Grievances: [/bold]They may be motivated by personal vendettas or grudges against the target.

[bold] Financial Gain[/bold]: In some cases, online brigades might be hired for financial compensation to harass a specific individual.

[bold]Thrill-Seeking[/bold] Some individuals may participate in such activities for the excitement and sense of power it provides.

[Bold]Technological Attributes[/bold]

[bold]Social Media Proficiency: [/bold]They are adept at using various social media platforms to spread their message and coordinate attacks.

[bold]Technical Skills:[/bold] They may possess technical skills to create fake accounts, manipulate online content, or launch cyberattacks.

[bold]Access to Resources: [/bold]They often have access to resources, such as funding or technology, to support their activities.

It's important to note that these are general characteristics, and the specific behavior of online brigades can vary widely depending on their goals and the target.

Now she’s too busy celebrating Sophia Loren’s birthday to bother putting regurgitated 90s blather together for the literal *tens* of people who subscribe to her “Wednesday Newsletter.” 🙄

She’s still planning to head for Africa in 10 days, there to put on her best Paul Bowles impression, no doubt.

Kevin Sessums was a man of simple pleasures. He liked his toast burnt to a crisp, his tea as cold as a polar bear's heart, and his life drama-free. But this morning, the serenity of his world was shattered by a text message from his sister, Karen. It was a bizarre, punctuation-laden rant about Sophia Loren, 90s nostalgia, and an impending trip to Africa.

Karen, in Kevin's eyes, was a creature of inexplicable whims. She could swing from planning a world domination strategy to knitting socks for her pet iguana in the blink of an eye. This text, however, was a new low. Sophia Loren's birthday? Was she having a midlife crisis in the style of a forgotten Italian actress? And what on earth did regurgitated 90s blather have to do with anything?

The "Wednesday Newsletter" was another mystery. Kevin had no idea what it was, nor did he care. He didn't subscribe to any newsletters, let alone one about... whatever it was Karen was writing about. And the idea of her dressing up as Paul Bowles in Africa was simply too absurd to contemplate. Kevin sighed, put down his toast, and made a mental note to avoid Karen for the next ten days. He had a feeling that whatever she was planning, it would involve something loud, chaotic, and entirely unnecessary.

Bav is a public figure - an internationally renowned author, a journalist, and a star of stage and screen! So why shouldn’t he be fair game on this little gossip site?? Especially since he continually shares all the revolting minutiae of his tedious travels on multiple platforms (except the one people actually pay for).

Anyway, absolutely *no one* will be “stalking” her IRL in Tunis or Tangier.

Where I’m sure she’ll have a wonderful time despite not knowing any French (not to mention Arabic).

Bless her heart.

[bold]Prologue for anyone new to the Sessums Stalkers[/bold]

Within a web of shadows, dark and deep,

A crew of malice doth their vigil keep.

With coded tongues, their plots they do unfold,

A twisted tale of vengeance, dark and cold.

On Kevin Sessums’s life, their eyes are ever bent,

A cruel delight in his torment spent.

With veiled threats, their malice they impart,

And seek to pierce his solitary heart.

Let’s watch this drama, fraught with wicked glee,

As shadows dance and secrets come to be.

Kevin Sessums was a man of profound apathy. The world was a vast, indifferent expanse, and he was quite content to be a tiny, insignificant speck within it. His sister Karen, however, was a comet, careening through life leaving trails of chaos in her wake.

Her latest escapade involved a pilgrimage to the exotic lands of Tunis and Tangier. This was a woman who once tried to grow a lemon tree in the freezer, so Kevin was under no illusions about her preparedness for such a venture. The fact that she couldn't speak French, let alone Arabic, was merely a minor detail in the grand scheme of her adventures. A particularly galling text arrived from Karen that morning. She’d mentioned something about "stalking" in Tunis or Tangier. Kevin snorted. The idea of anyone stalking his sister was about as likely as a yeti winning a marathon. He pictured her wandering through the souks, confidently bargaining for carpets while butchering the local dialects. It was a comedy goldmine, if only he was the sort of person to find humor in such things.

He finished his toast, the perfect accompaniment to his existential crisis, and wondered if there was a remote island where he could establish a colony of people who shared his profound lack of enthusiasm for life.

“Small-town Ptown” ☹️🤢🤮

Sub-level Sessums stalkery.

Kevin Sessums was a man of simple tastes. He preferred the quiet hum of his refrigerator to the cacophony of human interaction. His idea of a thrilling weekend was a well-stocked pantry and a good book. So, when his sister Karen announced her plans to escape the "small-town Ptown" she so despised, Kevin felt a surge of... nothing.

Ptown, to Kevin, was simply a place on a map. He'd never been, nor did he have any desire to go. But Karen’s dramatic declaration made it sound like a penal colony. He pictured a desolate wasteland populated by angry seagulls and disgruntled lobstermen.

Karen’s escape plan involved a whirlwind tour of exotic locales, starting with Tunis and Tangier. Kevin couldn't help but wonder if she'd confused geography with a game of Scrabble. He imagined her haggling for carpets in a souk while simultaneously trying to master the art of belly dancing. It was a mental image that brought a strange sort of peace to his otherwise mundane existence.

It seems that Gwen Walz is a fan of “Mississippi Sissy”. I suppose this is the “profound connection” that Bav has with the Harris campaign.

Don’t expect any invites to Observatory Circle, dear. (As if she’d ever set foot in “Small-Town Washington” … it’s way outside the frame of fame!)

He shouldn’t even be in the same room as Doris Kearns Goodwin.

R437, go back to the drawing board with lines 5 and 6.

He seems to have developed a large liver spot on his face. I highly doubt he wears sunscreen, and this spot is hideous. Oh well. If he isn’t going to a dentist (with two! in his family), he CERTAINLY isn’t going to a dermatologist.

Plus, he’s parading thru Provincetown in a ROTTED black mock turtleneck with holes, a torn cuff, and stains. Taking pics with every drag queen and loser “performer”. I wonder if he’ll be there to fellate Taylor Mac next week. Another one I can’t stomach. plus the filthy jeans with the HUGE cuffs. He looks like a clown

Luxurious blowjobs have not been ruled off the agenda.

Watch out, Cpt Jack’s Wharf— u in danger, gurl.

Kevin Sessums the man with the face like a startled goldfish, had stumbled upon a peculiar enigma. Gwen Walz, a woman of questionable taste in footwear, was inexplicably enamored with a fictional character named “Mississippi Sissy”. This, according to Kevin's overactive imagination, was the cornerstone of their "profound connection". A connection so profound, it was akin to a snail racing a cheetah.

Kevin, in a misguided attempt to leverage this absurd situation, had visions of grandeur. He saw himself as a key player in some grand political scheme, perhaps even invited to the hallowed halls of Observatory Circle. However, the cold, hard reality was that Gwen, with her penchant for neon leggings and questionable reality TV shows, was about as likely to grace the steps of Washington D.C. as a penguin finding solace in the Sahara.

I don’t think I could show my face in that particular small-town after “The Wharf Incident”.

We’ll see what adventures await in the Maghreb. I assume the police there are equally permissive as on the Cape?

Each and every Kevin Sessums stalker here had sprouted something resembling a dried apricot on his face. It was a monstrosity of a liver spot, a blotch of brown so intense it could probably be seen from space. They were a walking advertisement for the dangers of sun worship.

Given their aversion to dental hygiene (two dentists in theor families, mind you), it was a safe bet they'd never darken the door of a dermatologist. A liver spot? Child's play compared to the dental horrors lurking in their mouths.

I have serious doubts you show your face anywhere, Kevin Sessums stalker r450.

[bold]Kevin Sessums's Creepers[/bold]

Behind drawn blinds, a shadowy crew,

Obsessed with Sessums, through and through.

With greasy fingers and vacant stares,

They plot their moves, up darkened stairs.

Unwashed and weird, a motley band,

Their lives revolve with a twisted plan.

Each twitch and quirk, a studied art,

To Kevin’s world, they’ll play their part.

From darkened rooms, their eyes alight,

Watching his every move, day and night.

A silent army, lurking near,

Their obsession grows, year by year.

With trembling hands and hearts aflame,

They whisper secrets, a morbid game.

Their minds, a maze of twisted thought,

A dangerous world, darkly fraught.

So Kevin Sessums, heed this chilling plea,

Beware the shadows, wild and free.

For in the dark, where madness creeps,

A haunting watch your spirit keeps.

What utter crap

Cooters

The purple platypus knitted sweaters for invisible cats.

A sentient toaster held a deep conversation with a philosophical potato.

The moon was made of cheese and the stars were jellybeans.

A talking tree wrote symphonies using bird calls and the wind.

R450. Not only does he show it, I hear he has the same imperial attitude that he has always had. I believe it’s because he gets thrown these “gigs” thru Ken Fulk, and that gives him renewed “agency” (a “bav fave” word) to act like a fucking cunt. I mean, he looks downright deranged with his lopsided face and ratty rags. His Doris Kearny Goodwin chat will be live-streamed tomorrow thru the East End Bookstore on Facebook I believe. 6pm. I’m sure he’s tuning up his fruity drawl for this one!

The mischievous squirrel painted abstract masterpieces with acorns.

The invisible unicorn rode a rainbow to the land of perpetual bubblegum rain.

A sentient cloud shaped like a dinosaur played the ukulele while herding lost socks.

The talking fish wrote love letters to the seaweed.

The mischievous ghost haunted a candy store, replacing sweets with jellybeans.

The sentient rock collected bottle caps and dreamed of becoming a famous singer.

The talking parrot performed brain surgery on a rubber duck.

A time-traveling pizza delivery boy brought dinosaurs to a modern-day fashion show.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a librarian and hid books in random places.

The sentient cloud shaped like a heart fell in love with a thunderstorm.

The talking tree had a tea party with a family of rabbits.

The mischievous ghost wrote a novel about the adventures of a ghost detective.

The sentient robot dreamed of becoming a world-famous chef.

The talking fish started a band with other sea creatures.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a famous actor and won an Oscar.

The sentient rock became a professional athlete.

The talking cat wrote a philosophical treatise on the meaning of life.

The mischievous rabbit created a portal to a world made entirely of cheese.

The sentient cloud shaped like a ship sailed through the sky.

The talking tree had a conversation with a wise old owl. The mischievous ghost wrote a comedy sketch about the afterlife.

The sentient robot invented a device to translate animal language.

The talking fish started a underwater fashion show.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a famous scientist and discovered a new planet.

The sentient rock became a world-renowned artist.

The talking cat wrote a love letter to a fire hydrant.

The mischievous rabbit created a garden of giant mushrooms.

The sentient cloud shaped like a dragon breathed rainbows.

The talking tree had a debate with a wise old tree.

The mischievous ghost wrote a horror story that scared even itself.

The sentient robot invented a device to clean up all the world's pollution.

The talking fish started a underwater library.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a famous musician and composed a symphony.

The sentient rock became a world-famous dancer.

The talking cat wrote a poem about the beauty of the world.

The mischievous rabbit created a portal to a world of pure imagination.

The sentient cloud shaped like a butterfly fluttered through the sky.

The talking tree had a conversation with a wise old whale.

The mischievous ghost wrote a comedy sketch about being a ghost.

The sentient cactus hosted a tea party for the neighborhood squirrels.

A talking pizza argued with a philosophical mushroom about the meaning of existence.

The invisible dragon rode a rainbow to the land of perpetual bubblegum rain.

The mischievous penguin painted abstract masterpieces with fish.

The sentient cloud shaped like a spaceship explored the galaxy.

A time-traveling ice cream cone brought dinosaurs to a modern-day fashion show.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a librarian and hid books in random places.

The sentient rock collected bottle caps and dreamed of becoming a famous singer.

The talking parrot performed brain surgery on a rubber duck.

The invisible unicorn wrote a love letter to a thunderstorm.

The mischievous squirrel planted a garden of exploding watermelons in the city park.

The sentient cloud shaped like a heart fell in love with a black hole.

The talking tree had a tea party with a family of rabbits.

The mischievous ghost wrote a novel about the adventures of a ghost detective.

The sentient robot dreamed of becoming a world-famous chef.

The talking fish started a band with other sea creatures.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a famous actor and won an Oscar.

The sentient rock became a professional athlete.

The talking cat wrote a philosophical treatise on the meaning of life.

The mischievous rabbit created a portal to a world made entirely of cheese.

The sentient cloud shaped like a ship sailed through the sky.

The talking tree had a conversation with a wise old owl.

The mischievous ghost wrote a comedy sketch about the afterlife.

The sentient robot invented a device to translate animal language.

The talking fish started a underwater fashion show.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a famous scientist and discovered a new planet.

The sentient rock became a world-renowned artist.

The talking cat wrote a love letter to a fire hydrant

. The mischievous rabbit created a garden of giant mushrooms.

The sentient cloud shaped like a dragon breathed rainbows.

The talking tree had a debate with a wise old tree.

The mischievous ghost wrote a horror story that scared even itself.

The sentient robot invented a device to clean up all the world’s pollution.

The talking fish started a underwater library.

The mischievous alien disguised itself as a famous musician and composed a symphony.

The sentient rock became a world-famous dancer.

The talking cat wrote a poem about the beauty of the world.

The mischievous rabbit created a portal to a world of pure imagination.

The sentient cloud shaped like a butterfly fluttered through the sky.

The talking tree had a conversation with a wise old whale.

The mischievous ghost wrote a comedy sketch about being a ghost.

Everything happens for a reason. It is what it is. You can't please everyone. Don't cry over spilled milk. When one door closes, another opens. Time heals all wounds. You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. It's not about the destination, it's about the journey. Live and learn. Practice makes perfect. The early bird gets the worm. You only live once. Let bygones be bygones. No pain, no gain. This too shall pass. Good things come to those who wait. Don't count your chickens before they hatch. Less is more. Actions speak louder than words. It takes two to tango. You reap what you sow. The grass is always greener on the other side. Blood is thicker than water. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Don't put all your eggs in one basket. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Two heads are better than one. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Opposites attract. Birds of a feather flock together. It's a small world after all. You're never too old to learn. Don't judge a book by its cover. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Every cloud has a silver lining. It's the thought that counts. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. You've got to spend money to make money. All good things must come to an end. It's not about winning or losing, it's about taking part. You only live once. Life is what you make it. The best things in life are free. Time waits for no man. Variety is the spice of life. Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today. The pen is mightier than the sword. There's no place like home. A stitch in time saves nine. Two wrongs don't make a right. Honesty is the best policy. The customer is always right. You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. It's not about the destination, it's about the journey. Live and learn. Practice makes perfect. The early bird gets the worm. You only live once. Let bygones be bygones. No pain, no gain. This too shall pass. Good things come to those who wait. Don't count your chickens before they hatch. Less is more. Actions speak louder than words. It takes two to tango. You reap what you sow. The grass is always greener on the other side. Blood is thicker than water. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Don't put all your eggs in one basket. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Two heads are better than one. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Opposites attract. Birds of a feather flock together. It's a small world after all. You're never too old to learn. Don't judge a book by its cover. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Every cloud has a silver lining. It's the thought that counts. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. You've got to spend money to make money. All good things must come to an end. It's not about winning or losing, it's about taking part. You only live once. Life is what you make it. The best things in life are free. Time waits for no man. Variety is the spice of life. Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today. The pen is mightier than the sword. There's no place like home. A stitch in time saves nine. Two wrongs don't make a right. Honesty is the best policy. The customer is always right.

It is what it is.

You can't please everyone.

Don't cry over spilled milk.

When one door closes, another opens.

Time heals all wounds.

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

It's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

Live and learn.

Practice makes perfect.

The early bird gets the worm.

You only live once.

Let bygones be bygones.

No pain, no gain.

This too shall pass.

Good things come to those who wait.

Don't count your chickens before they hatch.

Less is more.

Actions speak louder than words.

It takes two to tango.

You reap what you sow.

The grass is always greener on the other side.

Blood is thicker than water.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Don't put all your eggs in one basket.

You can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Two heads are better than one.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Opposites attract.

Birds of a feather flock together.

It's a small world after all.

You're never too old to learn.

Don't judge a book by its cover.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

It's the thought that counts.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

You've got to spend money to make money.

All good things must come to an end.

It's not about winning or losing, it's about taking part.

You only live once.

Life is what you make it.

The best things in life are free.

Time waits for no man.

Variety is the spice of life.

Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today.

The pen is mightier than the sword.

There's no place like home

. A stitch in time saves nine.

Two wrongs don't make a right.

Honesty is the best policy.

The customer is always right.

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

It's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

Live and learn

. Practice makes perfect.

The early bird gets the worm.

You only live once.

Let bygones be bygones.

No pain, no gain.

This too shall pass.

[bold]Epilogue for anyone new to the Sessums Stalkers[/bold]

Within a web of shadows, dark and deep,

A crew of malice doth their vigil keep.

With coded tongues, their plots they do unfold,

A twisted tale of vengeance, dark and cold.

On Kevin Sessums’s life, their eyes are ever bent,

A cruel delight in his torment spent.

With veiled threats, their malice they impart,

And seek to pierce his solitary heart.

Let’s watch this drama, fraught with wicked glee,

As shadows dance and secrets come to be.