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Month: August 2022

Eating The Crow: An Apology

People have a problem with eating crow. It sucks having to eat crow or admit you were wrong about something. It’s to the point now that even parents who lose their children to a vaccine side effect will tell others to still get it because they won’t admit they caused their child’s death by forcing it on them. That’s very dark, but it’s true.

It happens all the time with people who refuse to accept a loss, a mistake, or a failure as their own fault. This post is not here to propagandize about a vaccine or people’s liberal pretense leading to their inevitable deaths when they refuse to realize a 3rd world country is dangerous.
I saw a guy on YouTube who was convinced that Pakistan was a peaceful country. He was eating at some fish restaurant in a dangerous neighborhood, and a local came to him asking where his bodyguard was. He claimed it was a peaceful country and didn’t need a guard.

A policeman came up after getting a tip that someone was planning to kidnap this foreigner and kill him. The policeman came up and said he needed to leave and go back to his hotel for his own safety. The same idiot said it was a peaceful country, and he was safe there. He was from Australia, not Pakistan. He believed in the liberal principle of Islam being the religion of peace and that these dangerous countries were misunderstood, and that he put his life in danger instead of admitting he was wrong.

People will go to any length to admit they are not wrong. Even if it means losing their life or their child’s life, all because they can’t eat crow and admit defeat. Admit a failure. Admit a lack of judgment. Admit that they were blinded by their own pretentious ideology that they were wrong. That their entire worldview is wrong. That they are wrong and harming themselves and others in seeking to avoid eating that crow.

What does any of this have to do with me? Simple. I profited from other people’s misery in the past. I made videos, live streams, and entire shows dedicated to criticizing and judging people I considered to be bad or wrong in some way. Where did I get the authority to judge another person being based on what I see online?

I made countless videos criticizing, dissecting, and lambasting people I thought were immoral, stupid, or awful human beings for their views or actions. I did it for profit. I caused emotional harm to people for money and clout. That’s not how I should operate, and I refuse to engage in such activities from this point forward.

There is an entire industry based on destroying people for wrong think. Both sides do it, and both profit from slinging arrows at the other. Watch any cable news channel and realize they are committing character assassination for profit, not as a public service.

Their job is not to tell you the news. It’s to make you angry and make you hate people they want you to hate. To brainwash you into thinking that the other side or a certain person is worth scorn because the talking head said they are.

Think about how the media worshipped Trump before he was a Republican. Rappers were talking about him as if he was the peak of society. A self-made rich guy who owned most of Manhattan. A guy who the black community worshipped for years, including the race grifters like Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, who celebrated Trump. Now all they do is shit on him for every tiny infraction they can find. Remember how they screamed about him getting two scoops of ice cream? Exactly.

I did the same with SJWs and later people like Ethan Ralph and other “lolcows” who people torture for their own sick entertainment.

We made documentaries, streams, and every time our lolcow of choice would fart or tweet, a video had to be made dissecting it for the hungry piranhas we cultivated as an audience. It’s not. The fact of the matter is I fucked up. I fucked up by letting myself go from bringing people joy and community on Twitch in 2014 to chase the dragon of being a “critic” on YouTube. Being that guy who reported on everything and dissected people to the point that I saw them as targets instead of human beings.

I did exactly what is being done to me now by a few of my critics. That’s fine. They are doing what I did, and maybe one day they will realize that I’m a human being too, and they’ll write their own too long, didn’t read apology. If you can’t read a 1000+ word apology, you probably weren’t reading my books either.

I apologize for my misconduct in creating content that tore down my fellow man for people’s entertainment. I’m sorry for causing stress, anger, and emotional toil to people I only saw as punchlines to get viewers and super chats. I apologize for letting myself become just another talking head that does nothing but shit on others for the amusement of piranhas who have no business criticizing others who haven’t looked in a mirror in years.

I finally saw myself in the mirror, and it hit me. I caused the same type of suffering, loss of sleep, anger, and self-destruction by tearing down other people for years for a profit. I deserve this scorn that I get now. That’s why I’m never going to do another drama show or engage in gossip with another person. Let the tabloid vultures do that. It’s their job, after all.

How are we any different from the SJW mobs who cancel people they disagree with if all we do is lambast, and destroy those who we deem immoral? Isn’t the entire point of cancelling someone is you felt they did something wrong or something embarrassing and using that to destroy said person? How are we any better than the leftists who cancel people left and right then smile at us as if they accomplished something with their miserable lives.

I see that I made an error in judgement now. Any a-logging or obsessive shows about me are warranted. I deserve the shit flung my way as retaliation for the mistakes I made in my past. The thing that bugs me the most and keeps me up at night as the fact that people can’t take an apology or a mea culpa. They have to continue to dig and use my past mistakes against me, yet bitch about the people who dig up 10 year old tweets to cancel people like Kevin Hart. It’s hypocrisy plain and simple and I engaged in that. For that I also apologize.

If you feel I have misrepresented you in my past content, or that I have caused you any harm emotional or otherwise I’m sorry. I will not do it again, because now I know what it’s like to be the guy pinned to a cross with tomatoes being flung at him. To all the people who can’t accept this apology or who continue to criticize me to make yourselves feel better. Go fuck yourselves.

To quote StyxHexenHammer

That’s about all, peace out.

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Starting Over

I feel like this is a new start for me. I am now coming to the public, not as FalcoPunch64, Johnny Fox, FoxDie Gaming, RazielPlayz, or any other silly gimmick name. I am coming out to the public as ME.

As Jack Pierce, or to those who know me in real life, Johnny Faulkner, or as my ex would see me, that loser who left South Boston, VA, to sleep on my friend’s couch in Toronto, Canada, after I lost my house in 2018.

Whatever you see me as, it’s time for me to accept who I am and just present Jack to you instead of some character I played on YouTube forever. The boring ass author who is introverted and barely talks to anyone in real life, letting my art speak for itself. It’s just time to be me for the first time, probably ever, and that’s really strange.

The idea of not being some faceless “voice of god” that talks shit about internet autism for no other reason than that’s what you wanted. For the most part, I didn’t give a fuck about the topic or the person I was reacting to. It was for you. You wanted it, and I gave it to you, and I was happy to do so. If you want to be a YouTuber, you have to give the people what they want. That’s how it works.

Nobody wanted writing streams, gaming streams, or anything like that. They wanted drama, so I gave in and reaped the rewards and drawbacks of doing said content. Bands write a hit song and have to play it forever, no matter how much they hate it. That’s how I felt about the drama shit with Ralph. I don’t give a shit what he’s doing, never did, don’t even watch him, but you wanted that. You got that.

Ralph brought in numbers like nothing else. I tried to mix in some non-Ralph stuff, but nobody gave a fuck. I’m not ashamed to admit that at all. Name 5 Oasis songs that aren’t Wonderwall. That’s what I thought.

You wanted a larger-than-life persona to make fun of another larger-than-life character, and I played that role. It was strictly business. Ralph is Ralph, and if he wasn’t like that, then nobody would watch him. He has a natural-born talent for putting on a train wreck of a show and lifestyle that people watch, and god bless him for it.

He said it himself, “you tune into me because I’m an entertainer,” and he is. Love him or hate him, you people watch him constantly, waiting for him to entertain you with a sperg out, promo, rage fit, whatever you want to call it. He’s giving you what you pay him for. I did the same thing, for better or worse. I have no personal beef with Ralph.

I’ve never met him, never will and don’t give a shit what he’s doing. He was just a topic y’all wanted me to cover more than any other. I hope he can sober up, get his shit together, and live his best life. I have no hate or ill will toward him or anyone I covered on any episode of any show ever. It was all business. Give the people what they want, even if you don’t give a fuck about the topic.

Once I put up that post saying I was coming back to Twitter, I had a few old friends pop up, happy to see me again. That felt good. It felt good to see people genuinely happy about my return. I’ve never felt this before during a rebrand. I can’t run from being Jack / Johnny anymore. It’s pointless.

I took 3 months to reflect on things, and I’m going to start over as Jack again. Just be me, not try to be a certain brand or character this time. No over-the-top character, no drama shows, just do whatever the fuck I want, and if nobody comes… oh well. I did that for years before the FalcoPunch64 stuff. I streamed to 5 people on Twitch for years and loved it. I will do it again.
For god sake. My most successful period is the one I constantly bitch about diverting from.

The period on Twitch in 2014 when I had more viewers than most streamers in “our sector” today have! I was getting 30-50 people watching me play resident evil 2 back then with a potato webcam! Showing you the real me was successful until I got it in my head that I had to play some insane character 24/7 to make it big. Just stupidity. Wasted time and stupidity.

So I’m starting over. Forget everything you knew about me from the last 14 years, and let’s actually meet each other. I hope you have a wonderful day. I need to get some sleep because I haven’t slept worth a fuck in a week. So goodnight or good day whenever you are reading this.

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The Itch.

I still have the itch to come back and do live shows. That’s why I was excited when the publisher told me I had to do a podcast tour. It would get me back out there in the public sphere again. It’s been a few months since I quit YouTube. I miss doing YouTube, but I don’t know what I’d want to do if I ever returned.

I know I’d want a live show, not a taped one, and hopefully, people would come back. I know nothing will ever be the same after the incident in May, but there were a lot of good people I left behind who I want to see again for one final show if that’s what I’m gonna do.

I am happy being just an author, and I have no real interest in starting another audio-only podcast because the editing is so tedious, and hiring an editor for that would be a losing game financially. I’m not Rogan.

It would make no business sense to do a solo podcast to 60 or so weekly listeners and make 0 dollars but pay another guy 80-100 per episode to edit them. That money could go toward advertising things that matter, like the books or my companies in real life, two things that actually make money.

The biggest thing holding me back from doing live shows again is the same reason I’ve left so many other times. Stalkers show up. They dox me and harass my family members. I can’t hide who I am now. There’s just no way to do that at this point. They will always find me no matter what I do, and I’ve accepted that as part of being a public figure.

It is inevitable that if you get any amount of fame or infamy, you will get stalkers, doxers, harassers, and people who want to hurt you and your family. Putting yourself out there puts a target on your back. After seeing that even Mister Metokur got swatted, I knew that was it. It doesn’t matter if I am on YouTube or online at all. People will find me and get me if they want me, so why bother hiding anymore?

I’ll always have crazy people who follow me everywhere, record my every word, and do as the mainstream media does with politicians. Every word they say is immediately an uproar, and there are dozens of grifters all chomping down on the political tit to make their meal.

Every blog, YouTube show, and everyone is just swarming them like piranhas, just trying to get a little nibble for those ad bucks. It’s honestly grotesque, but that’s how fame works. You get famous, you get haters, tabloids worry the piss out of you about everything you do, and you make a bunch of money.

A great quote I heard recently was, “if they talk about you, it’s a blog post. If you respond, it’s a press conference.” That’s true. This blog will probably be ripped apart, dissected, and criticized to all hell for me being a pretentious dickhead or a self-absorbed prick. Both are probably true to some extent.

“At least he admits it,” says the tabloid guy reading this right now on his podcast.

You’re welcome for that laugh. It’s just part of being known. As one person told me a during my downfall in May, “if it bleeds, it leads.”

It’s true. It just means that I have to watch what I say and do more carefully now, and only associate with people who are outside of this sector. It’s a shame I have to watch my back like this now, but that means people think I’m important enough to criticize and dissect. Thanks for that, and thanks for reading.

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See No Evil (Sam Wolf Book #2) – Chapter 1

I keep having false starts with the next Sam Wolf Novel. The first one obviously being The Snow White Murders. Here’s another try. It’s not edited at all, don’t see a point in doing that until the first draft is complete. But here’s a peek at what I got right now.

Lorenzo Marker walked through the dark alley that connected Hickory Drive and Marlow Avenue. It was a dark, narrow passage between two buildings that smelled of stale urine and wet garbage. 

It had been raining off and on all day, but the smells never really left downtown Richmond. They were just part of the ambiance. Lorenzo could barely smell it after three months of living in his complex. It had just become another background detail that gave the area its charm.

He lived in the apartment complex on Hickory, where the two main entrances to the apartment were the fire escape and the side door. He sometimes took the fire escape for a slightly more pleasant view of the city. He could see the ballpark down the road if he stopped at his exit door. 

Sometimes he would stand there and just look up at the stars. The only people who noticed him were the homeless people who came to the alleyway to drop their pants and leave presents for the garbage men to clean up.

He took the stairs this time and, after going up three flights in his old apartment building, had seen better days. The door at the top of the stairs was unlocked. He paused for a moment and wondered if he had forgotten to lock his door on his way out. 

He could have sworn that he locked it. He thought back for a few seconds trying to retrace his steps that morning, but nothing came. It was just a blur, really. Nothing remarkable happened that day. He just did his usual routine. Get up, shower, grab a pop tart, and out the door he went to work to be on the assembly line at 7AM.

He opened the door and walked in. A single bulb hung from the center of a dusty ceiling fan above his head. There were two dirty windows and white walls that were freshly painted before he moved in 3 months ago. 

An old tube television sat on one side table with a stack of newspapers beside it. He rarely looked at the papers. They came to his door from the previous tenants’ subscription, and he simply used them as decoration. 

On the other end stood a chair covered in dust. He didn’t have much furniture. Not that he couldn’t afford it. There was plenty of perfectly good stuff being given away on Craigslist in the city, but he didn’t want to have to be the one to drag a 3 cushion couch up 3 flights of stairs so 0 other people would sit on it. 

He rarely had guests and no roommates to speak of. He had moved to get away from having roommates. He was tired of cleaning up after their trash and messes that attracted ants. He couldn’t even buy cookies anymore out of fear that those damned ants would just come and swarm them. They had done it before.

He looked around the apartment and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a clutter of boxes that were never unpacked, dirty clothes that needed to be washed for over a week, and a couple of playboy magazines that he kept by his bedside. 

He lit a cigarette and exhaled deeply. He hadn’t had a chance to smoke all day. They used to let you smoke on the job, but that was until the city came in and banned indoor smoking entirely. 

He knew his landlord didn’t care if he smoked in the apartment anyway. It was a dump in the worst part of the city, to begin with. He was happy to have a tenant who would pay the rent and not burn the place down.

He went to the bathroom with the cigarette in his mouth and stripped. He had just finished a 12-hour shift and let the water run for a bit before plugging the tub. It took a while for the water to heat up on his floor. 

He tossed his cigarette in the toilet, and once the tub was full, he laid down in it and let out a deep sigh. The warm water felt incredible on his achy bones, and he closed his eyes, letting all his troubles leave him. 

He had grabbed his phone and turned on the Joe Rogan podcast which had been his favorite for quite some time. He especially liked the topics about the music industry. He knew that the industry was untrustworthy and was more of a hindrance than an ally in late 2022, but he still enjoyed listening to the tales of rock stars and rappers from days gone by. 

He enjoyed hearing their horror stories about being on the road and label screwjobs. He made mental notes of all of them. He wouldn’t fail like they did for some contract that screwed him royally. Not a chance.

He slipped deeper into the tub, and after a few minutes, he started to hear a faint noise from his living room. He opened his eyes and looked outside. He saw nothing, but he heard a faint tapping in the distance. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

He thought it was probably some rat. The place had rats climbing in the walls, and he had to get used to it. He heard them squeaking and dying inside the walls as they were trapped by the new insolation. They had nowhere to go, so they suffocated and died drowning in fiberglass foam. 

The tapping became louder, and he heard scratching along the floor. It must have been a cat. Alley cats were not an uncommon site in his apartment complex. He had one that he was quite fond of that came by often, named Charlie. He was a white and gray cat who often joined him for dinner. He would eat a bowl of ramen, and Charlie would have a bowl of milk.

“Charlie! I hear ya out there. I forgot to get milk. I’ll get you some tomorrow.”

The scratching from the other room continued growing louder and louder.

“Charlie. You better not get some girl cat knocked up. She might come for you for child support, ya know? Amanda has my ass all kinds of fucked up right now.”

The noise grew louder. It was too close. Too loud to be a cat. It was more like footsteps now. He took the rag off his face and then.. darkness.

“What the fuck?” Lorenzo said.

The pain in his eyes was immense. He scrambled and struggled in the tub. He grabbed his face and felt what felt like gloves there burying it’s leather into his eye sockets. 

He screamed and flailed in the tub until he heard another sound. A much louder sound. It was like a canon going off and he felt a harsh pain coming from his chest. He took a breath in but only blood came back. He was drowning in his own blood from a gunshot wound to the chest.

His hearing became more distant, and the pain slowly faded away. His last word was “God…” he didn’t have enough time or life left in him to ask for forgiveness. He never even saw it coming.

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