She has never written but one comment on this blog under her own name. Here it is.
That comment is not by any stretch “far worse” than what Naomi Thompson has been saying most of today. Not even close to being “far worse.”
In fact, the only things written to me here that could conceivably be construed as “far worse” than Naomi’s insane ranting are the love letters. There simply is nothing else, under any name, anywhere.
I probably owe Joe Naugler an apology, because I really thought it was him doing it. Or maybe he and Jacob together. When all the time it was Nicole, the sweet loving mother of eleven, who lives this back-to-nature come-to-Jesus lifestyle in the “wilderness” of Breckinridge County, Kentucky.
Nah, I don’t think I’ll apologize to Joe. But I do thank you, Nicole, for coming clean on this. I’m sure your supporters will applaud.
By the way, my skin is fine, but I appreciate the concern.
On a day like today
We passed the time away
Writing love letters in the sand
How you laughed when I cried
Each time I saw the tide
Take our love letters from the sand
I have been collecting what I refer to as “love letters” ever since this blog started. I’ve delayed posting them because I wanted to get as many as I could, and also because the content began to morph so much that I wanted to see exactly how far it would go.
They have died down for a while now, and it’s time to go public.
I have been more or less anonymous, using the obvious pseudonym “Blessed Little Blogger,” not because I was afraid of anyone, but because my spouse asked me to do it. His concern was Joe Naugler.
Joe Naugler has a criminal record, a history of threatening people. Even now, Nicole and Joe both are very quick to talk publicly and often about “defending” their “rights” and they mean using guns.
That comment was made today (February 21, 2016). She’s made similar remarks before. And even though my husband does not read this stuff, he’s seen enough to be mildly concerned.
Remember, I’m not doing a single thing to these people but making public commentary about their very public commentary. The stuff they wanted to “go viral.” If they had not pushed themselves into the public space, I would never have known they existed.
But regardless, I agreed that I would make a more or less half-hearted attempt to remain anonymous.
When I first started this blog, I had no way for anyone to contact me except by leaving a comment. I knew this was inconvenient, but it worked for a little while. So the love letters began as comments.
Here’s an example. Obviously, the person leaving the comment was not Sally Davis. The email address is fake. The IP address is a proxy. The link is real. It was a message.
He was telling me that he thought I am Sally Davis and that Sally Davis has a blog at that link and that I should look at it.
And there was more of this sort of silly nonsense. I captured screen shots, saved the messages, and ignored it.
Then the messages changed a little because he really wasn’t sure at all.
And a whole slew of them at once. Manic stuff.
Somebody was convinced that the Blessed Little Blogger was not Sally Davis, after all, but in fact, Lisa Duran-Luthi. Because he’d somehow linked her IP address to the blog.
So I (or Lisa) was supposed to be afraid.
Sometime during this period, I set up a contact form so people could contact me privately and an email exchange would be possible, so I started getting love letters via the contact form as well as on the comment page.
They got the break they needed. At last. I was so glad to read that.
So, he’s good at his “job.” Really?
Right in the beginning of the blog, we had a commenter who was clearly a Naugler supporter who used the screen name Jonathan Blakely. His comments are almost entirely on the Barney page. In spite of the fact that he obviously disagreed with me vehemently and voiced his displeasure, he was not unbearably offensive, and I allowed his comments. I did do what any reasonable person would do and checked his IP address and quickly realized that he was using a proxy. [Note: I’m going to do a whole page on IP addresses because it’s a misunderstood subject and one people use to create fear, but that’s later.]
I gave him a little hell about being in Sweden on one post, and then being in London an hour later. He tried to explain that he was in Europe, which was obviously silly, but finally sent a note admitting the proxy.
But notice the love letter above his? That one, just like all the others, was not written by Teresa Frogue, but was a feeler thinking that maybe Teresa was the Blogger.
The interesting thing is the IP address.
Jonathan Blakely and the love letter writer are the same person. And furthermore, the love letter writer is in Breckinridge County, Kentucky.
Amazing. And remember, he’s “good at (his) job.”
But all this was just silly crap. It was no different than a lot of the silly stuff occurring on these various Facebook pages, with insults being tossed back and forth like popcorn.
Only then it began to change a little.
This one is saying, “We know your address. Be afraid of us.”
So, he started with the insults. That’s okay, too. I ignored them and stashed them away.
Right in the middle of this, they ran off a cliff with this photo. From the page on gardening, this is a photo, in fact, of my garden. I believe I said so when I used it. It’s my garden. I planted the potatoes in the foreground. The tripods in the far background are used for pole beans.
And the person who admins that page thought he’d “seen this before.”
Sigh. Make up your fucking minds, will you please?
And it bounced around.
But then it started to turn really sort of ugly.
What does that mean? “. . . she will be dealt with accordingly.” Dealt with? By whom? By an overweight unemployed dead-beat who thinks he can bully people using fake identities? I think not.
Say the people who live in a garden shed.
But it got a bit worse.
So, a complete stranger is going to punch two people in the mouth, when they aren’t even sure who they are talking to, and when the spouse doesn’t have anything to do with this?
Doesn’t this constitute a threat?
I mean, I laughed, but really?
And then it got even worse.
Read those again. The person writing this lives in Breckinridge County, Kentucky. I do not believe it’s Nicole, although I’m quite sure she knows all about these notes. I think it’s either Joe or the oldest son (the messages started not long after I refused to allow the son to comment on the blog).
The person isn’t really sure that he’s talking to Sally Davis at all. He’s sending out feelers everywhere trying to establish my identity but he’s not really sure.
And he says that shit. These are messages from a person who is a member of a “faith driven unschooling off grid wilderness homesteading family of 13 people, pets and a few random farm animals living a back to basics minimalist life.”
I am not a superstitious person, but if I had eleven children, I would be very careful about tempting fate like that.
His name was Nathan. He was enormously talented. He died on August 22, 2006 when he was thirty, in his sleep. It was not a “miserable death.” Nor was his death a suicide. Nor was he ever abused by anyone. And he was an atheist. There is no “hell,” and he is not “looking up” from anywhere.
Only, I wasn’t trying to imply that all of them came in that exact order. I was grouping them more by subject matter.
No matter. I aim to please and I certainly don’t aim to deceive. So, I went back and added a note with the date and time each one was received (if I have that information).
What you will notice is that they came sometimes once a day, and sometimes in spurts (the Love Letter author was especially busy on Christmas day). And they did, in fact, escalate in content, although that hardly matters.
The last one I got was the “punch in the face” one, at least as far as I can tell. And very frankly, that one was a line drawn in the sand as far as Dave and I are concerned.
Valerie, a personal note to you. You are more than welcome to come here and comment and disagree with me all you want. Anyone is. I don’t bite unless you call me names or say rotten things about my dead son or threaten to punch me in the face. Do you have good arguments to defend Joe and Nicole? Please, by all means, state them.
I’m not sure what you thought you were accomplishing with this great sleuthing insight, however, you did me a huge favor, so thank you very much. In looking back to find the dates on those, I discovered a bunch more that I had overlooked.
Here they are (I have blocked my personal email address from view):
The link there goes to a silly childish little gif that says “Canadians are weird,” meant to insult Denise, I assume.
And this link leads to another gif. I didn’t even bother to follow that one, so I have no idea what’s there.