Exhausted Squidward

May we see the proof?

... Imma stay outta this one...

Your "case" hinges on a missing comment that you have nothing other than wishful thinking to figure what it may have said.

You lost an entire body of work here under the formally celebrated name of Grind because of this obsession. Prior to that you lost whatever credibility and audience you enjoyed and a once successful stream of memes going back over a year.

You haven't contacted the autorities yet, nor will you ever.
Get a hint, move on.

I dunno. Lore has it that it was a clue which lead to a shelf in your room with a family heirloom that is a hairpin from your great great aunt Gertrude with an inscription in Latin that lead to a vault behind the altar in Trinity Church in Lower Manhattan with loads of gold thingies including a golden pony made by none other than Paul Revere emblazened on the side with "Damn Uber was too late so I rode my horse instead - P.R"

Not ButtBug Grind.

Ahh, mental issues. While oversimplifying it, like I once told a self-proclaimed schizophrenic on another site: cerebral cortex - use it.

It works like this:

The voices in your head?
Ignore them.

The weird scenarios that you whip up but have no foundation in reality?
Disregard them.

The sky is blue despite the thundering purple genie with green spots looming overhead.
We ALL know that in the real world the sky is blue.
We ALL know there are no genies.
Stick with the sky, ignore the genie. Done.

Now this won't cure you of or even quiet your schizophrenic fantasies, but it will allow you to function logically while they dance the night away.

Or try the cop trick:
You just got kicked out of Starbucks because you started flinging brown sugar packets at the cashier screaming he's possessed. While outside, you hear the sirens, see the lights, it's the cops! Suddenly (unless you are truly in gone gone city) you're totally lucid.
I understand continously sustaining this grip on reality is not easy, but when you're about to scream off into lala land as you have here, pretend a cop is tapping your shoulder with his Billy club and your name is Mustapha Leron Jackson. Done.

LIke when you say you have proof but lie that you won't post it because you're saving it for Bastille Day 2021. Schizoid or not, you made a CONSCIOUS effort to lie. Now pretend God is real, he's real pissed off, and you are scared of hell for real. Zip them bs and stick with what is real. Done.

You're welcome.

Please stop the slander. It's not worth your time.

If he REALLY did something bad, you'd focus more on getting proof of his criminal offenses and contacting law enforcement instead of harassing him.

I dunno. If I saw someone online do illegal things, I'd leave them alone, gather proof of the offences, contact law enforcement, and then have the law bite the bastard in the ass by surprise.

I have an idea. Post some screenshots to prove your point. You can, can you?

You can?

Well, do it already.

I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that. That’s a very big claim your making there buddy. I ain’t getting involved in any of that child predator shit. Bye...

*slowly backs away