Hate makes you impotent, love makes you crazy. Somewhere in the middle you can survive. It's a bit to know where to begin. The ...

Hate makes you impotent, love makes you crazy. Somewhere in the middle you can survive.

It's a bit to know where to begin. The day we met, the day we moved in together? The day we first broke up or the final break up when we knew we'd never be together again?

Or was is the day she threw all my tools in the front yard and demanded I come get them before the sprinklers did?

Or the email I got from her seconds after I grabbed them, explain she couldn't believe I actually picked them all up?

Or do I begin with every day since, when she's refused to leave me alone? Bullying me with every attempt to destroy my life.

Let's start there.

Near 18 months ago I ended a relationship with a girl named Emilee Duncan. We were together nearly 3.5 years and towards the final days, were engaged.

Most of the relationship was bliss, some was not.

I missed our conversations. I missed our private jokes. I missed how we used to talk every minute of every day. I missed how I was able to tell her everything that was on my mind. I missed our life.

But during that time I missed the fact that she wasn't the person I was supposed to be with, and I wasn't the person for her. I didn't make the break up any easier. We both decided to end it. While we were breaking up she asked me one night "do you think in a year we should try it again?"

I shot from the hip and said "If we couldn't fix it in three years, what an extra year do?"

But loudly my heart was screaming "YES!"

After we broke up, we both found ways to heal. Mine was wishing we could talk and get closure. I'd send her occasional emails or text every 2 months or so. She wouldn't respond. I blocked her on all social media, in most part because she had started dating prior to me even moving out. I didn't want to see her with another person. From the day we broke up, I never looking into her life again. The pain involved in that would be more than I could bear.

Her healing was the opposite. She admittedly created "ghost accounts" across all formats of social media to look into my life. Her best friend's boyfriend explain it to me as "an unhealthy obsession". She'd befriend new people in my life and feel the need to tell them what a horrible person I was. She created alliances with girls I dated, so she could create the "Bill Hater Club of America".

It truly became the unhealthy obsession I was warned about.

Probably the most memorial moment for me, when I was truly concerned, was how a girl I had recently ended a relationship with had posted a picture of she and Emilee out dancing. This was days after the break up. How closely was Emilee following us to know we had broken up. It turns out she had already reached out to Nicole prior to that. Very strange.

In July of 2018 I found a comment she made in a /Relationship thread on Reddit. It was a subreddit I only subscribed to because during our final time together, she'd show me threads or comments related to our situation (while we were falling apart). I didn't poke around much. I didn't comment is that thread ever. But one day I found a post I could relate to. It was a woman talking about how her boyfriend like to remain friends with is exes. Sadly, that used to be me. Therapy and Emilee scolding me during our time together, convinced me it's a horrible idea. I read the comments and found Emilee speaking her voice there. It was only about her experiences with me. I was wrong in the past and she expressed it. I read it. I understood and commented in it. Emilee was not amused. The interaction ended with her and I in a short conversation where I promised her I'd never reach out to her again.

I meant it.

4 months go by. I had met someone new. It was a great relationship. One I was fairly proud of on social media. We had an amazing summer. I was moving into a larger house so we could be together. One week before moving in, the girl I'm dating goes silent for a few hours. She suddenly joins me with my group of friends and can barely use words. She asks me to go to her car and proceeds to tell me she had been on the phone with Emilee.

Emilee told her I was a pedophile.

I was in awe. I didn't even know here to begin to defend myself. I've NEVER been accused of something this horrible. But then it got worse. I learned she told her many other lies. And that Emilee had form a group of ex-girlfriends whose entire goal was to hurt me.

Great news for them. They nailed it.

It started because Emilee reached out to the ex-husband of my current girlfriend and sent this message.

Here are my girlfriend's words in an email to me:

Emilee told John you were physically and verbally abusive to her, that you stalked her since the day you moved out, that’s she’s been scared for her life every single day. She told John you were a pedophile. She told him that you dated a girl named Nicole and you constantly kissed her daughters on the lips even after she asked repeatedly that you don’t. She told John you threatened her. She convinced him she was very concerned for the health and safety of HIS DAUGHTER.

I can assure you none of this is true. Emilee then continued to call my girlfriend's mother and tell her the same thing. 

It got weirder, it got uglier. Jen, my girlfriend, and I broke up. Now she was in Bill Hate Club. 

Jen went in head first. Believe all the evil spewed by Emilee, Nicole who I dated over Thanksgiving and another girl named Calyse (Callie) who I shortly dated in the Spring. Nicole and Callie were girls I had left alone. I never slandered or attempted to hurt. I never really gave them much thought. I assumed they both moved on and gave me little thought as well. 

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Calyse Knox began digging into my social media nonstop. I learned from friends. 

I would see things like this in Instagram where she'd view my stories then quickly block my account. Sometimes she didn't block it enough

All four were constantly on my website, my social media and began "accidentally" walking in to place I frequented. 

I knew their IP addresses better than I knew my own phone number, I'd see it so much.

I began to get scared for my safety. I started putting the chain on my door. I changed the code to my building since they had it. 

While Jen was swimming in their hate, she began to do the math and realize none of it made sense. Also that they were truly putting too much time into me, and spying on ever inch of my life. 

Things where Emilee admitted to spying on my life. 

Jen reached out to me and warned me that I should be scared. Very scared. She shared their conversations with me. She even talked to Nicole one on one and realized nothing Nicole claimed to say was true. Nicole was afraid of Emilee. They all were.

Jen told me that not only were they spreading giant lies about me, they say little ones that made no sense. Emilee claimed, just to claim, that when we dated she made more money than me. I had actually made more than her. She told people when I asked her to marry me, she said no. Even though we posted engagement photos on Reddit. She told people she had walked in on me having sex with someone. This never happened.

I started to wonder if Emilee actually believe these things or was just out to defame me at level 9000.

During this time, girls who I dated almost a decade ago were reaching out to me asking why an ex-girlfriend was trying to talk to them. They were a little scared themselves now.

I know Emilee is upset because she is currently pregnant with a baby girl out of wedlock. During our time together, she was so adamant about NOT having children that she convinced me to get a vasectomy. She's about to be the one thing she never wanted to be, a mother. Her own mother abandoned her as a toddler. She's angry and upset and apparently I'm the outlet she needed.

Her boyfriend reached out rather violently and asked me a text I sent her asking me to leave her alone. When I pleaded my case and asked him to convince her to stay out of my life, he responded.

is her thing unhealthy yes, ill do what I can. I will do everything possible on my end to make
sure she stays out of your life.

That didn't work, He's completely aware something is wrong with her but unable to help talk her off the ledge.

When I talked to the police about stalker charges, the police let me know that if I file, and win, she could lose her job (A government clearance is required for her position). Also to be careful because she's pregnant and it could be physically hard on her as she was claiming to be fragile.

But a detective also told me she's not going to stop until I legally stop her, and the others helping. So I began going after her.

So after a bit of a legal battle, a few friends sent me a post she made.

I'm being bullied. Not only by her, but by a 3 girls I've dated in the past. I'm not perfect but I never purposely went out to hurt anyone. I don't understand the reasoning behind it.

Sadly this is far from over. Lawyers are talking. Investigations are happening. I'm forced to take legal action to keep her out of my life.

So when I get texts like this. I worry.

So, to quote the girl (Emilee Anne Duncan) who is making my life hell. If I ended up murdered, be sure to talk to her first. 

I just want my life back. 

UPDATE: On the 15th of November, Emilee learned I was talking to the police about filing stalking charges against her. She in turn called in a false police report that landed me in jail. She claimed I was harassing her, but it was proven, I wasn't. She did this knowing I'd be stuck in jail all weekend. The good news is, the police are aware it was a false report. The bad news is shows that she has zero morals in this event, and I feel it's only going to get uglier.

MORE UPDATE: Emilee continues to contact women in my life and add them to her hate gang. 7 years ago I went on a few dates with a girl named Lana Westbrook. Now Lana is reaching out as far as girls I knew in high school and telling them false information that I have a record out East. I can assure you this isn't the case.

Lana is a person I haven't seen in 7 years. But now she's using her energy to slander me with people I haven't seen for even longer. None of this makes sense. It appears some people have a harder time moving on than others. 

I want it all to end. 

I create a lot of video/commercials for clients. I generally mean to share the work, but often forget to. It's only been two months ...

I create a lot of video/commercials for clients. I generally mean to share the work, but often forget to. It's only been two months but here are two spots I created for TSheets.

When I was 19, I was a freelance artist for a T-shirt shop. I didn't make much money, I didn't make many friends (it was rather c...

When I was 19, I was a freelance artist for a T-shirt shop. I didn't make much money, I didn't make many friends (it was rather competitive), I didn't make many shirts.

But it was easily one of the biggest learning experiences of my life.

I believe that anyone who eventually enters a stage of adulthood wishes that during their youth there was a class called "Adulting" on the curriculum. How to pay taxes, how to open a checking account, how to eat like a real person. I am in my 40s and I still squeak by today. I do okay... but I squeak.

Back in the T-Shirt illustrating slave-shop illustrating days, I shared a house with 2 other friends, I drove a car that I barely paid for with cash, I attempted to go to school part-time with books I borrowed from friends because I was incapable of buying them on my own. I drank Dr. Pepper and ate M&M's for every meals because I didn't own pans or a microwave. I could barely feed myself so imagine when I learned I needed to contribute to a potluck that was feeding 50some other people.

It was a list on a board. "Employee Potluck" followed by a lengthy food list with many, many names next to them. Some of them were pretty elaborate.

BBQ Chicken
Potato Salad

Seriously? Tiramisu? What sort of sadist would ask a group of misfits to being such a complicated dessert that even today I couldn't tell you a single ingredient to.

Most of the items were taken. Some were crazy easy like: Plastic forks, cups, water.

Water? I can do water all day.

Baked Beans. No one has jumped at the opportunity to bring baked beans. It's one thing, right? Beans, baked!

Without hesitation I scribbled my name down. I dodged a bit of a baking bullet. I grabbed one of the last easy items on the list.

I had a few days before the potluck so I didn't do much prep-work other than remind myself to go to the store and pick them up. The day of the event I decided was a good time. I had a few hours, I was feeling good. I got in my shitty car and drove to Costco with my roommate who I was forcing to tag along for two reasons. I didn't really wish to talk to the people I worked with, and his Dad gave him a Costco card, an item I didn't have.

We walked in and purchased two very large cans of Baked Beans. That couldn't have been any easier. We threw them in the back seat and made our way to the beach. We were actually a bit early, that was rather adult of me.

We walked over and placed the two large cans of beans on the table, stood a little taller as we eyed our prize. Beans for everyone.

We drank punch, kicked sand, said hi to the few people we could tolerate and thought that maybe this wasn't going to be such a crappy even anymore. Then I heard from the table.

"What idiot brought cans of beans?"

I turned to see one of the Creative Directors, essentially my boss, holding a can of beans in awe.

"Who brings a can of unopened beans to a party? Are we supposed to open them with our teeth?"

I was a fool. For two reason. First off, it never once occurred to me to physically open them. I mean, if I did... then what? I didn't own a pan to place them in. The second reason I was a fool? I said "That was me."

I was then explained to that one simply doesn't just bring a can of beans. You purchase them, take them home, place them in a dish and warm them up. You top them off with a nice layer of foil to keep them warm.

That hadn't even crossed my mind. But I should let you know, I did actually own a can opener, I wasn't a caveman.

I asked if anyone had a can opener, one of the artist's husbands reached in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

"I do", as he revealed a very rusty, Army surplus can opener on his key chain. He proudly handed it to me and stared as I realized this was my job.

After the 15 minute learning curve of how it worked, I slowly exposed the beans as I mixed in shards of metal and a little blood.

It was a tough learning curve figuring that out.

45 minutes later, one can was open. I figured I'd hold off on the other until everyone ate the spoils.


All artists, all hungry artists, dug in. Chicken went fast, there was baked mac that might as well have been heroin. The person who said they'd bring Tiramisu never even showed up. You'd think they'd be the butt of the potluck jokes.

Nope, it was still me. No one was eating my beans. But not because they didn't look tasty with those glittering pieces of metal. They didn't have a spoon. I walked the table and manage to steal the baked mac utensil. It looked lonely. I jammed it in the beans.

Still, no takers. I assumed perhaps it was the fact that no one wanted to break the seal. I decided to take the spoon and get as large of a spoonful that I could, then flick it off towards the bushes. My aim was true. I then stood by the beans and waited. I thought to even ask if table-goers wanted any. But I didn't wanna to seem pushy.

End of pot lock, no go. Not a single person ate my beans. But should I be sad? The reality its no. I mean, I now own two giant cans of beans. I'm going to eat like a farty king for a week. I grabbed my beans and headed to my car. I ask my roommate to place them between his legs and we head home. I didn't learn until later that twice during the ride home, the open can tipped over, leave stray beans and a bit of juice on my floor. A smell that was a pleasant reminder for the next few months of the event. I placed beans in my fridge and resumed life.

A few days later I learned a new adult lesson. Don't leave exposed food in your fridge, that you intend to eat, for several days in your fridge.

This month my company is planning a Thanksgiving Pot Luck. How has life changed? I plan to take the toughest thing on the list, and nail it.

And this time, remember a spoon.

... and I made it into a little video. 4 days with water and a bit of glamping. A work trip that spoiled us all. Looking forward to nex...

... and I made it into a little video.

4 days with water and a bit of glamping. A work trip that spoiled us all. Looking forward to next year.

There are videos on the interwebs that undoubtably will change my mood to gooder any moment of the day. Is it fair to NOT share them with...

There are videos on the interwebs that undoubtably will change my mood to gooder any moment of the day. Is it fair to NOT share them with the World? Come back anytime you can when you're down... smile... then share them with the rest of the sad society.

Night Rider Banjo

Puppet Tom Sawyer

Ode to Steve Irwin

Weezer Students Go Bad

Ode To Youtube (yes, I made this)

A few years back I took 9 months to travel a few states and film a ghost documentary. It sparked from my odd interest in ghost shows, and...

A few years back I took 9 months to travel a few states and film a ghost documentary. It sparked from my odd interest in ghost shows, and my desire to either expose them for the fraudulent productions they are, or figure out if ghosts really even existed.

Spoiler alert: I don't believe in ghosts.

It wasn't your typical ghost documentary. First off, it was all real. I didn't fake anything, I didn't represent anything in any fashion to sway your opinions. It was all as it happened.

Second is, I made it funny. I'm technically a horrific show off so that came across in the filming. It was light hearted and honest. Not what you generally get in a ghost doc.

So with that, I've had a few mixed reviews. In most part, people really loved the film. Ghostumentary sits on Amazon Prime with 3.5 starts out of 5. Out of the 95 reviews, 46% gave it 5 stars. Only 17% gave it 1 star.

I've given Amazon reviews before. If I feel betrayed by a product, I'm going to let the seller know. If the product changed my life for the better, even in the slightest way, I'm going to scream it from the 5 star soap box they offer. I don't think I'd make much of an effort for a body wash that was "just okay". It did its job and I don't feel the need to pat it on the back.

But not all people are like me. Some people really want to be heard. And after then watch Ghostumentary, they really REALLY want to be heard.

Here are some of my favorite Ghostumentary reviews.

Let's start slow, and with the most recent review.

It's actually a bit of a compliment for someone to go that far out of their way just to give you a "meh". So this one actually makes me a little happy. She doesn't have time to use capitals, but time for a review. And also, if what we did was normal to her... I want her life.

Then there's this.

Ghost dick. Someone who would so elegantly write a poor review of my film only to title it, Ghost Dick. Who is this person? How do you make this person happy? What other types of things have they reviewed?

Our friend Mark Melchior is a little more fickle that I assumed he might be. If our film was just good enough for him, we wouldn't have received 5 stars. I mean, even if it works, it's not good enough. 

Even if our movie was "Always good" we'd be short of that glorious 5th star. What does one have to to do to get a high score with this guy? 

There ya go. Sweet and smooth. My next movie has one goal now. To be sweet and smooth. Then I'm sending a screener to his house for my first reviews. Signed, Ghost Dick. 

Here's the second review that referred to us as "narcissistic".

But THEN calls us "Grown Ups" so this is actually one of my favorite views. My favorite part of this is "I do not believe in ghosts, but I am fascinated by ghost stories as exercises in the human imagination." This is why I did Ghostumentary. This was me 3 years ago. This was probably the review I would have left. Sure, I got 2 stars but a feel this person was truly my audience and I evoked enough emotion in this person that they needed to speak out. So though I seem to mock, I honestly tip my hat and say "I get it". 

But not everyone cared about the core filmmakers. 

Because my son, who was in the movie for 20 minutes, stole the show. But I gotta admit, he really did.

But more about us.
How dare you call this a "mockumentary"!

But sometimes they just really hate me.
This was one of my first, written out, bad reviews. Prior to this I got a bunch of "Dumbs" or "Mehs". This was the first one to specifically call me out. Not only did it call me out, it labeled me as the reason they hated the movie. I reached out from their TV and bunch them in their brains. I read further to learn that they'd watch a sequel if I recast myself. "Now play the part of Bill Doty, Brad Pitt." Then I got to the bottom. It all made sense. It was date night and I ruined it. I cock-blocked via video-on-demand. For this, I'm sorry. I think I owe you a bottle of wine, and a pizza.

The good news is, she really dug those Leopard Ears. 

Like I said, most reviews are terrific. Many loved the movie, us, and what they learned. Some have given one star, one word reviews. People still watch it every day and occasionally reach out to me online to let me know they enjoyed it. 

It was an amazing experience and I'd do it again. Oh yeah, I am. But once a week I still go online and check out the reviews. I inhale them and think about how to make a better movie. Hopefully next time, I'm reading your review. 

Just think of something better than Ghost Dick.