I Doubt He's a 38C.

This morning, I awoke from a long funk to an interesting email with a soapblox chicago link in it. The message (from another blogger) was was my first tip that I am a man named Mark Blackman.

This, at least according to a delusional misfit who's running for Congress who has a long record of not playing well with others, is a fact.

Well, it's not.

Heh.

Feel free to do your own research on this blog as to when I began referring to John Laesch as a fucking fruitcake. I think it was around the time he started a serial lying campaign to cover up the fact that he was directly involved in the petition challenge against his primary opponent, based almost exclusively on challenges of "Spanish-sounding" or Latino names.

Maybe it was the obvious delusions of grandeur.

How in the world John Laesch, who came to his political life by claiming his "Naval Intelligence background," can ever show his face again in public is beyond me. As you reread his loopy post (please do read it a couple of times for comprehension) on soapblox, which I personally gave up on weeks ago, you must be as afraid for those around this young person as I am.

I think the doctors use the term "danger to one's self or others" when they commit someone to the boobyhatch. That seems to fit this one.

For the record: I am not Mark Blackman (I don't know who that is). And I doubt this Blackman fellow is a 38C.

Anyone know how civil commitment works in Illinois?