Over the last year or so this blog had gotten so political we’d forgotten what our purpose here in Hell to the readers of the hardcopy really was. That purpose is to show to the Dead that the Living were still up there in the cool and wet fucking up at every turn. Misery loves company; Hell loves schadenfreude. In a world where the richest country on its face has an entire industry built on keeping persons of one color terrified of people of other skin colors we keep our bills paid by showing you that as a species Humans are all the same. At the end of the day and at the end of the First Life people just want to be remembered as something a little better than what they were. This is called Human nature. My cousin Shlomo always told me that you can’t polish a turd though no matter how important it is to someone else that this stinker shine. All that brings me as a dead person and a journalist back to my roots as a ranting, raging shit bomb slinging editorialist cast in the mold of that great gonzo journalist Hunter S Thompson.

A Gonzo journalist my friend knows not the definition of the phrase politically correct. The first motherfucker who coined that phrase I have to say was a guy who had something terribly embarrassing to hide or was just fed up with being called whatever he really was. There is a time and a place for everything in the daily public lives of the Living. Here in a blog being written by the Dead in Hell those rules just don’t apply. I understand that people who fuck up have families that cared about them. I even sympathize with them that they got stuck with someone whose memory will be a source of shame as long as their brain is repeatedly fed oxygen. Life can be harsh that way sometimes.

I generally stay out of the stuff that Hoops Green writes about way out there on Serratoth island but this time with this guy Don Mahoney I wasn’t able to sleep tonight. If I hadn’t read the obituary at the Great Falls [Montana] Tribune yesterday I might have crawled into be with Terri and Valeri after a few fingers of Noe Booker’s finest had a relaxing menage a trois and slid off into a dream state that only the Souls in Hell can fully appreciate. But you know that wasn’t in the cards after having this bad can of hash shoved down my throat like an elephant’s cock in the middle of a hailstorm. Here’s the first line, you can read the rest at your leisure here.:

Lt. Col. Donald John Mahoney, 44, of Great Falls, a maintenance squadron commander with the Montana Air National Guard, died of a gunshot wound Thursday at his home.

Okay flyover state people from this you can continue to live the fantasy that moving out of cities like Brooklyn where I was born will protect you from all the scary ills of society that you see on the TV every night. In the exurbs and in rural America there is peace and safety from “The Other.” Guns are your friends and your religion will save you. Ah, bullshit. You know better because this lie has been your bed warmer for three hundred years. The truth my easily terrorized friends is that normally the people you need to be most afraid of are the people you are living with, work with or associate with on a daily basis. Of course to those easily disposed to fear and in need of tablet of high-powered happy drugs in repeated regular doses to allow them to “deal” with life on a day-to-day basis this sort of reasonable thinking can’t possible be allowed. People might just start bursting into flames if they came to the realization that with a few admissions spoken out loud [ “I spent all the money” “I took all the drugs and sold them to feed the kids” “I’m leaving you for someone else” “I know you molested our child” “I am tired of your verbal/physical abuse” “Stop leaving the toilet seat up” “I hate your parents”] they might be confronted with something far more frightening than a few black kids walking down the street.

Mahoney in this obit if you stopped right there and did no more research could be like the world in the land of the Birthers. No need to concern yourself about facts because he was what every nerdy non jock in America wants to be. Officer in the Air National Guard, player on a state championship high school football team married to a pretty school teacher. How many of you out there on Terra saw Pleasantville? You still with me? Had I stopped on page one of this obituary I would have tossed it aside as the way a grieving family wanted to remember their lost loved one but being the through researcher I am I read on to page two and what kept me out of bed and next to the bottle of bourbon in my wood-paneled study in front of this computer to all hours of a warm and dusty night in Dis is this collection of words that only a schizophrenic could possibly muster:

Don was an avid hunter and fisherman, particularly enjoying this with his sons, father, brothers and nephew. He loved spending time with his family at their Holter Lake cabin. Don was passionate about Montana and God’s gifts of the mountains and scenery of his home state. He was an admired chef of walleye and elk steak and a diehard Pittsburg Steelers fan. He was a very caring father, husband, brother, son and uncle; always putting family first. To his friends and Guard family he was a brother and a mentor. Don lived by strong moral values and faith and always put others problems above his own. He will be missed, but will live on in our hearts and memories forever.

Wow. Fuck me running. You would think this guy dove in front of a bus to save three kids dying of leukemia from being killed by Osama bin Laden.

The truth is Donald Mahoney, in a fit of rage, a powerful force in the mind of people with little self control, picked up a shotgun and fired it at his wife, Shelley Mahoney, 40, killing her instantly. Reacting to what he did, he turned the firearm on himself blowing his own head off in the process in a reckless disregard for his own Soul. There was nothing caring in those acts. I don’t see any morality in a murder suicide here. Donald Mahoney definitely put his own problems above even his own life. And the part about his family being first well brother you make the call on that one because I’m still trying to clean the vomit from keyboard.

In Hindsight

Valeri got up to take a leak a few minutes ago so she got to read the first draft of this and she said something very insightful, “People who read this are going to think you are nasty like that Petkov woman.” That really set me to thinking. Jennifer Petkov wanted to get back at the Edward family by hurting them the only way she could by reminding them of their tragic loss and the future road the little girl would tragically follow. I think that’s a horrible thing to do. Petkov’s actions were mean and had no redeeming social value to any journalist I know. What Jennifer Petkov did was like showing a porn film to second graders. What I’ve done with this post is like taking a dozen adult fundamentalist baptists to Las Vegas giving them each ten grand and telling them to go have a good time I’ll be back in 72 hours. The former is cruel for the petty purposes of revenge and the latter is cruel for the purpose of bringing the light of truth into a room blanketed with darkness used to hide Human Failing.

Pax Terra!
Fredrick Schwartz, D.S.V.J., O.Q.H [Journ.]
Managing Editor—Research
The Dis Brimstone-Daily Pitchfork
236 3 Leviathan 2 AS


  1. Damn!

    “People who read this are going to think you are nasty like that Petkov woman.”

    I don’t think so.

    A powerful piece of writing and the truth is plain and evident, if one wishes to see it for what it is.

    There is more to this “soul” business than meets the eye, I think you have a good handle on it.

  2. […] After I wrote this, I read this from Hell […]

  3. Majordomo Pain Says:

    Ser Ichabod you have inspired The Meditators yet again. Your skill in metaphysics gives the Collective great comfort in knowing there is at least one among you thinking, evolving and Living!

    Qu’ul cuda praedex nihil!

  4. Bart Spence Says:

    Hello, I just read your article about Don Mahoney. I was a coworker of his at the Great Falls Police Department. Don was a troubled guy from the onset. A clerk at a local 7/11 complained about him coming into the store, on duty, and asking to use the bathroom. He was in there for some time. After he left, the female clerk went to the restroom and found feces on the floor and a feces ridden pair of men’s underwear in the trash basket. When Don was confronted, he admitted to it and said he’d been stressed and suddenly lost control of his bowels while in his patrol car, so he went to the 7/11. Nothing was ever done or followed up on.
    The next incident landed him in hot water with a reprimand and a mandatory examination by the department contracted psychiatrist. At about 2:30 am on a cold Montana night, Dans wife, Shelly called 911 and asked to speak to her husbands supervisor. She told the supervisor that while Dan was working the night shift at the police department, she had gone out with some friends to the bars. She had “hooked up” with a guy at the bar and after they were done socializing, he gave her a ride back to her house. As they arrived she saw a marked patrol car in the driveway, Dan. She got out down the block and walked in. She was immediately confronted by Dan, on duty, in uniform, AND Armed. He became abusive and when he found out about an affair, threatened her. She tried to grab the nearest telephone but he ripped the cord out of the wall. He then told her he was going to kill himself and went down into the basement. She seized the opportunity and called 911. The supervisor told her to leave the house immediately and he sent units to the residence. He also contacted Dans brother, who was in the national guard with Dan. They were able to talk him out. He was reprimanded and ordered to be evaluated by a psychiatrist that the department had on retainer. The psychiatrist quickly said Dan could return to service, which he did until quitting a short time later to join the guard full time. I firmly believe that a murder suicide almost happened that night, some 12 years prior to the actual murder suicide. None of that ever came out in the media as I’m sure that the chief at the time, Bob Jones, who later became a city commissioner, made sure that case file went to a dark corner of the department. I’m still shaken by those events and other than family members, I have never discussed this. Hopefully I can put these sad memories on a shelf now. Maybe something more could/should have been done in those years leading up to the murder.

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