Frank Parlato
After I thanked the whistleblowers who helped expose Keith Raniere, an anonymous reader—“Mr. Anonymous”—threatened legal action unless I removed a named “Jane Doe.”
Mr. Anonymous argued in the comments section:
“Only reputable journalists honor Jane Doe designations out of professional ethics, respect for privacy, and to avoid interfering with court proceedings, but let’s be honest, you are a bottom-feeding “journalist” with absolutely zero integrity. Good day, sir!…
“Your lack of empathy is palpable. You think being brainwashed… is an easy experience to get over? But hey, anything for a few clicks to my shitty website, right?!…
“You really are as stupid as they say. …. You are a fucking clown, Frank.
Frank
“Brainwashing is very real, and you are the proof. It must be hard to have a weak brain…. Please get your brain dirty again. It’s been washed too well. I’ll help you.”
Mr. Anonymous
“You are what you eat, Frank, and you, sir, eat dogshit all day and look what you produce: absolute filth content that serves no value to anyone on this planet….
That clash—with Mr. Anonymous and the culture of perpetual anonymity—prompted NiceGuy to endeavor to dox Mr. Anonymous.
Nice Guy made this comment:
My guess is: This critic of yours is an AI-assisted clod and is most likely the cad, Bangkok.
We all love Bangkok, but boy, does he know how to pull someone’s chain.
The passage, “good day, sir,” is a dead giveaway. I’m surprised he didn’t put his smiley face in the salutation.
It’s elementary, my dear Parleto.
Oh BangCalk!
It did not take long for Bangkok to reply:
Bangkok
Reply to NiceGuy
Wrong. It’s not Bangkok. LOL.
Just not his style of writing. Bangkok doesn’t use AI-assisted shit.
On a different note… Bangkok is good at triggering people (he’s especially good at triggering LIBERAL/SOCIALIST cocksuckers and RINOS).
That’s why I know that you’re a fucken Beantown LIBERAL RINO (i.e., a ‘pretend’ republican) who voted for Pocahontas.
Admit it, you fucken socialist asshole!!!!!!!! 🙂
Problem is, you just don’t understand basic economics.
Socialism doesn’t work. It never has. It never will.
Boston is an economic shithole drowning in debt. IMO, Trump should strip that socialist hellhole of all federal funding until it wises up.
I implore you to PLEASE DITCH YOUR SOCIALIST BELIEFS!
Have a nice day! 🙂
NiceGuy
Reply to Bangkok
Dude, I’m a blue-state Republican.
A Lover of capitalism!
I love Bush and Nixon!
Sorry, I don’t like Donnie.
Nutjob
Reply to NiceGuy
Did NiceGuy get triggered?
A. Yes. Bangcock did it again
B. No. He just felt compelled to share random political noise in his head.
Bangkok
Reply to NiceGuy
LOL. True ‘Republicans’ don’t vote for Pocahontas, sir.
Frank would never do that shit. Neither would I.
You don’t like ‘Donald’ because of deportations, which means you suffer from toxic empathy. That’s a classic socialist mindset.
It makes you feel ‘sad’ to deport people, right? But that’s only because keeping them here doesn’t cost you anything personally (if you had to pay 25% of your paycheck to feed them each month, you’d quickly change your tune).
Let me ask you a question, sir.
What’s the point of even having a border?
Why do countries have borders?
Why does Mexico have a southern border that prevents massive numbers of Guatemalans from entering illegally?
Why? It’s because they don’t want them in their country.
Yes, even Mexico is a hypocrite (they keep out illegal Guatemalans while demanding that the USA accept tens of millions of illegal Mexicans).
Grow a backbone. You’re not any more virtuous than me.
Please change your tune, or I’m gonna personally ask the Republican Party of Massachusetts to boot your ass right onto the pavement, sir.
Have a good day. 🙂
NiceGuy
Reply to Bangkok
People who live in their parents’ basement and threaten to call ICE on their Guatemalan nanny shouldn’t talk.
The Hirsute Heartthrob
These men inspired me by their exchanges and I entered the Bulwar Lyton Plagiarism of Purple Prose Contest only to learn the contest no longer exists or never did exist. So I chose to write a Harlequin Romance novel based on a true story but protecting the anonymity of participants just as Mr. Anonymous would want it.
I call it:
Lip-Locked in Bangkok.
Here is an excerpt from Chapter 14: Braces & Embraces
Jenny was 54. Bangkok was just 18, though he talks and writes, and when he doesn’t shave, he was prematurely hirsute even at age 18, looks like he is a lot older.
He had won over Jenny who thought he was at least 21.
Bangkok was bold. He stuck his tongue out at her. She put it in her mouth. Jenny surrendered completely to the invigorating intermingling of their spit — not the Polident-tasting spittle of old age, nor the salivary excretions of middle-age, with its tart hints of gingivitis even among those who floss daily, but the invigorating drool of youth–spittle that dazzled the uninitiated with its exquisite hints of promise, innocence, and braces.
And Bangkok was far from done.
Like a bird gliding over the surface of a Wyoming river rippled by a gentle Spring breeze, Bangkok’s hand passed over her stretch marks.
Jenny bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fiber of her being that Bangkok would be the one man (actually teenager) who would understand—who would take her away from all this—and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as Snorlax had.
Strawberry Ripple Nights
But in fairness to Snorlax, Snorlax had kissed Jenny back then with a certain vigour – not in a lingering manner as a connoisseur might sip a glass of 1963 vintage Taylor Port, but more clamorous, if not voracious, like an unhoused individual applying his mouth around a bottle of Strawberry Ripple near the dumpster behind the 7-11.
Oops, sorry Snorlax, we had the wrong photo. Disregard the above. See below.
But Snorlax was a stolid man, prone to excessive and extended bursts of emotionlessness; but don’t put him down for it, for when he loved, he loved with the passion of a dog itching its face against the grain of a firm pile carpet.
The Gentleman Called Pilgrim
And she also remembered Pilgrim; how could she ever forget him?
For a time she wanted—no—she needed Pilgrim, oh, what she would have given if he only knew that he was the first thing on her mind at the start of each day, if he knew that she yearned, yearned to be happily by his side at the spring dance, yes, she needed Pilgrim unless Benji Carver dumped that bleach blond snob Peah Onyu in time, in which case she’d need Benji.
Still, she met Pilgrim’s gaze with an intensity that couldn’t have been matched by even a starving junkyard dog in the meat aisle of a suburban supermarket.
The Boil & Bubble of Jenny’s Heart
But she forgot them all, all the men she had been with, including Nice Guy’s father – though she was not certain which of all the men she had been with actually was Nice Guy’s father, and if she was even conscious when it happened for she had both narcolepsy and the habit of falling asleep when she was bored – she probably would not remember his name – and maybe not be able to pick him out of a lineup – though she was pretty sure it wasn’t Nutjob for he was always exciting – like that time when he stood looking at her.
She was seductively naked except for a bra and a pair of pants, the smile on her face come-hitherish and inviting, but a little aloof, but Nutjob won her heart with a clever bit of sophism paired with parsing as he riffed on etymology and the oddities of colloquial usage when he quipped “Why are they called a pair of pants, much better English if it were a pair of bras and a pant?”
But she forgot all that, even Nutjob and all the men she loved before, who traveled in and out her door, all the men she once caressed who held her breast – yes she forgot them – like she always did when someone was groping her like she was now being groped, and despoiled by Bangkok.
The youth and the middle-aged lovers’ lips latched to each other, not unlike the way in which, to be lyrical, two coital snails would, with both slime and suction, frothing as if someone had just poured salt on them.
Nice Guy’s Question
Then suddenly, Nice Guy came in and said, “Mom, I’m home.”
Seeing Bangkok with his mother canoodling and in a cuddlesome embrace, he asked the question he invariably asked his mother since he was a boy –”Is this my father?”
Jenny did not have the heart to lie to him, but she also did not know who his real father was, and she knew that broke the dear boy’s heart, so she said “maybe” because Bangkok was prematurely hirsute, though he was the same age as Nice Guy.
And Jenny had to sit down and tell Bangkok to keep his hands to himself when their “son” was in the room.
To be continued in our next chapter, Chapter 15—Zamboni of the Heart.
Here is a music cue I wrote for the score of this tender love story. This cue comes in when Nice Guy realized Bangkok is not his father
:
Frank Parlato is an investigative journalist, media strategist, publisher, and legal consultant.
Please leave a comment: Your opinion is important to us!
Mr. Parlato,
Speaking of novels, if you remember that once that a couple of years back I did a very long interview with Mr. Patriot God at his secret private estate in the heart of Texas. I was going to post it, but you screwed me after promising that you would and even asked me to do the interview and said that you wanted it. Only to change your mentally unstable mind and ghost me about it after doing several days of interviews at Patriot God’s “Patriotic Ranch” and weeks worth of hard and laborious work for typing and editing all for nothing because you’re a bastard little shit of a human being!
But, I want to make it at least some worth of it by discussing a small little nugget of gold from it since it is relevant to this article of writing novels.
In a section of that very long interview, Mr Patriot God and myself discussed two of his books that he has written.
One is an extremely bone chilling horror/murder mystery called “The Nigger Next Door”. It is about a fake gold-chain and grills – wearing ghetto thug black man named Jamal who moved into a HOA neighborhood who blares obnoxious and distasteful rap music all the night long despite it being past curfew. And while the neighbors welcome him into the HOA, there is just something that doesn’t sit right with them about him as more and more people start wind up missing after his arrival and his long mound rap music playing obnoxiously all throughout the night. But they all suppress it so not to feel guilty about following their gut and thus being labeled as “racists”.
Even the police themselves don’t want to be defunded by Jewish owned politicians and Jewish social activist groups with deep pockets threatening to sue them if they investigate him or “deprive him of his constitutional right of social artistic expression” by demanding him not to blare his filthy and obscene rap music all night long while kids are trying to sleep to be able go to school.
But one brave patriot doesn’t care what society thinks about him and goes to life-threatening efforts from local news outlets trying to write hit pieces on him to “to expose white privilege and racism in multi-cultural neighborhoods”, angry “anti-racist” mobs and even the police to discover the darkest secrets of Jamal before more people disappear. Is the protagonist right to follow his gut or is he a “delusional racist” as the local news characterizes him and “informs” the local masses viciously follow suit against him?
The other one we discussed, “The Guido Wolf Reporter Of New York” is an action/mystery and in which the main antagonist was inspired by Frank Report.
The antagonist in the book, Hank Niggerlardo owns an evil news empire called that openly practices gonzo journalism cleverly branded as “The Daily Ginzo Report”, but he has a master plan to take away free speech from the whites in America through an Orwellian system that he ironically calls “patriotically approved speech” to subtly mock the 1st Amendment and plans on establishing mafia henchmen to enforce his reign of terror and he has brainwashed the masses and nobody believes the protagonists because if they point out that he’s bad, then everybody calls them “racists” and shuns them. So the patriots have to stop Hank and reveal the truth to America as the clock counts down before it’s too late.
Will they stop the evil plans of Hank Niggerlardo and “The Ginzo Report” or will evil prevail and overthrow the U.S. Constitution forever?
Mr. Patriot God even went into big spoilers for his fans on the first one. I find the plots for both of them to be extremely enthralling and enticing as well as very deep and profound. I can’t wait to read them both and find out what happens!
What are your thoughts on these books, Mr. Parlato?
I will write about my impressions in my next Harliquinn Chapter: Patriot God’s Secret.
Mr. Parlato,
I do sincerely hope that you’re not going to engage in your less than elegant slanderous attacks on Mr. Patriot God again?!
Plus, you never answered the question.
What was your question?
🤦🏻♂️ Literally the last sentence of my first post.
What are your thoughts on these plots? Don’t they just have a great hook?!
I’m waiting on the edge of my seat to figure out what happens in “The Nigger Next Door”! Does Jamal get exposed and brought to justice?
What about in “The Guido Wolf Of New York” that was inspired by Frank Report?! Does Hank Niggerlardo enslave the country? Will he be exposed in time?
Isn’t this exciting?!…..
The character of Hank is based on me, if I understand correctly.
Yes.
But besides the inspiration, don’t the stories seem exciting?!
Don’t you want to know what happens too?!
I already wrote the next chapter.
Mr. Parlato….. Sir,
You did not write the next chapter. Do not lie.
Mr. Patriot God already has finished both books and never authorized you to co write it with him.
Will you please just stay on topic and give a review?!
😡🔥😡
HEY GINZO!
Let me tell you something, you goddamn stupid fat fuck of a dumbass worthless nigger!
Patriot God worked his ass off writing two best goddamn bestsellers and it is some best damn reading there’s ever been in history since The Good Book, The United States Constitution, the writings of the Founding Fathers, and the KKK!
No way in hell freezing over a trillion times over would he ever let some illiterate lowlife nigger, like your shit-fucking self, fuck that up by writing a so-called chapter in the works of true white genius!
Now those books are going to kick you in your dick no matter what! So you better just shut the fucking fuck up with your bullshit niggerdry and give George his goddamn answer before I skin your guido ass alive and shove a machete into the hole of your virtually half existent chode!
I ought to slap the shit out of your shit skinned face, you mentally retarded faggot!
DO YOU HEAR ME NIGGER?! YOU TREAT THIS MAN WITH GODDAMN RESPECT AND ANSWER HIS FUCKING QUESTION BEFORE I HANG YOUR FAT ASS OVER THE EDGE OF HELL BY YOUR SMALL DICK TIED RAZOR WIRE!!!!!
NOOOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!
THAT’S AN ORDER, YOU STUPID FAT FUCK!!!!!
GET MOVING!!!!!
Who is Frank’s #1 hero? (as in, life-size poster above his waterbed & the name of his cat)
Bob Hope used to love to hang out with the wise guys whenever he came to New York. But I don’t recall him ever asking any favors unlike a certain singer.
Frank, my not so chaste friend, harbors some fiery sexual fantasies far darker than
“Peyton Place”.
Here is one passage taken from the story above:
“After plying her with “Jesus Juice”, and M&Ms laced with roofies; the hedonist Bangkok experienced the rapture of NiceGuy’s mommy. Poor NiceGuy walked in as his mother and Bangkok copulated. NiceGuy lit a cigarette and watched like he was P. Diddy. NiceGuy waited to see if Bangkok pulled out.”
Question:
What type of sick perverted mind writes such garbage?
Answer:
Frank Ginzo
Deplorable!
Frank must have deleted entire thing. It’s no longer there.!!!!!
I wonder if Suneel wishes he had signed his letter to Judge Garafis as “Anonymous” instead of putting his name to gross details of assisting to Clare in the bathroom.
Benji, did you hear, Suneel just got his second degree from Harvard? He got an “MBA” (Masters in Bronfman Asswiping).
Pilgrim-
LMoA!!!
Looks like me, except with a nice head of hair that I am jealous of.
I have always wondered who Pea Onyu is. My money is on either Clyne or Hatchette.
Frank has a good sense of humor. 🙂
If I had to sum up my HONEST view of NiceGuy, it would be this… NiceGuy is a good-hearted but malleable fool.
NiceGuy wakes up each morning just aching to ‘do good’ — but he honestly doesn’t know how to differentiate good from bad, due to his overly emotional (liberal) mindset.
Niceguy is akin to the useful idiots of the communist parties of old.
Raised in Boston, it could be argued that NiceGuy had no choice but to fall victim to the brainwashing of liberals around him.
Is there hope for NiceGuy to ever see the truth? Probably not.
Why not? Because he likely has family members that are even more deluded than he is, which only helps to reinforce his delusional mindset of toxic empathy.
What he fails to understand is that in 20-30 years from now, our out-of-control deficit spending (much of it due to illegal immigration) will result in real families having to spend 50% of their income (from EXTRA taxes) just to avoid having the USA go bankrupt like Greece did.
Magical thinking (i.e., believing that we can afford to take care of ‘unlimited’ illegals) is rooted in toxic empathy.
Do I hate NiceGuy? Nope.
Do I hate him in the same way that I hate liberal assholes like Nutjob and Ice-Nine? Nope.
But, IMO, NiceGuy and his family should be sent to Gitmo until they REPENT for being such malleable and foolish idiots.
Have a good day. 🙂
I am deeply concerned that between your chastisement of Nice Guy’s poltical views and my exposure of his discomfiture and making fun at his expense that we have seen the last of Nice Guy. He had for some time considered joining his friend Shadow State
Let’s cut NiceGuy a break. This is the stressful time of year for him. It takes focus & dedication to turn off the water and lock the doors to the summer home. He’s still getting chastised for Sept 2018 when he forgot to lock the sliding glass door…
This is wisdom. Everyone go easy on Nice Guy. Mental health is a fragile thing for some of our brethren so we should err on the side of compassion and not judge his lapses with the same severity we might otherwise.
“He had for some time considered joining his friend Shadow State.”
Accurate! Dead on! Shadow here I come!!!
Bangcock banging my mom?!?
FU Parlato!
I will respond in full at a later date!
TBA.
If at all.
I knew it would draw your ire. Please do not take it out on me. Focus on Bangkok and Pilgrim and maybe Ice Nine who don’t like you anyway.
FU!!!!
I shall respond in full!!!
Go back to spanking to cat lady Lauren!
Stop focusing on Mr, B.s old obsession. Remember Mrs. J?
Wow Bangkok. So you still have me living rent free in your head? It’s good to know I’m still torturing you after all these years. That made my day, thank you Bangkok.
I’m glad Frank told us this very true story about your love life, too. I’m sorry things never worked out between you and Lauren. Nice Guy’s mother seems like a decent consolation though.
Seeing his own mother make out with Bangkok is probably what drove Nice Guy to drink so much. I hope he’s still back on the wagon even though I do miss his 3:00 am posts. He’s probably saved a ton cutting back on all those strawberry wine coolers.
This love story needs your old theme music Frank, I thought you were going to bring that back.
I have a feeling those leftover strawberry wine coolers helped relax an awkward/nervous Bangcock and helped poor Niceguy’s mom forget about the odor emanating from Bangcock’s pits.
We get it Bangcock – the aluminum in deodorant is bad for you. But they sell actual aluminum free deodorant – you don’t need to abandon it altogether.
BTW Bcock – Why are you afraid of a small amount of aluminum but you think it’s perfectly fine to inject toxic levels of aluminum into babies?
I am going to post on this page the theme song for this tender story.
The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest
How it worked
Submitting entries: Participants were challenged to compose a single opening sentence for a fictional novel.
Categories: The contest had several categories, including purple prose and vile puns, encouraging a wide range of bad writing.
Winners: After the annual April 15 deadline, a panel of judges selected winners, with the results announced mid-June.
The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest was an annual competition for intentionally bad writing, often featuring purple prose, and was named after Victorian author Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, famous for the opening line of his novel Paul Clifford, “It was a dark and stormy night…”. Founded by San Jose State University professor Scott Rice in 1983, the contest invited entrants to write the opening sentence to the worst possible novel. The contest concluded in 2025, as creator Scott Rice found it increasingly burdensome.
I loved the contest and took some of the best purple and repurposed it for this based on a true story about Nice Guy.
I think you’re working too much. Is it twelve hours or more a day? Do you have time for leisure and relaxation? Maybe I’m misjudging the workload of journalists, but if you’re doing everything alone, I have the utmost respect for you.