So yeah, delete your account, delete your Youtube channel, and fuck off into obscurity.
Know why? Wanna know why, baby boy?
Coonskin, who you fucked over with the court audio that you just had to debut on your dumb show, gave me the dox info Pat has on you. But you're going to assume that doesn't mean anything because it's an old address and Pat couldn't do anything with it, right?
On the record, Brinton Resto and Patrick S. Tomlinson are complete waterheads. I found you inside of ten fucking minutes with your old address and traced you to your new place. How's Plymouth? Is it nice? Does Flavia like it?
You were way too cavalier with your information. Was your wife a mail order bride? I only got one other address for her besides living with you. She looks rough for 41. No wonder she wears all that pancake over her Easter Island head. As for you. You look like you have Down's Syndrome when you're not making cringe selfie faces, and you're fatter now than you were then. You look like a formless amoeba with a hat. Which you wear because you're a bald faggot.
You wanna act like some big shot because of your lousy show and you have some personal information on people here, that you're throwing under the bus that didn't even fuck with you because you've been taking nothing but L's lately. And you're too much of an unfunny dullard to do anything else about it. You fucking used Jon's death to try and get people to watch your Ambien variety hour. Like, the one fucking dude with the Pat shit that people respect here, but anything for more likes and subs, right?
You became a lolcow yourself. Your show sucks. You've been around some of the funniest people on internet for close to ten fucking years. How does none of it rub off on you? You're Opie Tomlinson.
Disappear into the wind now, never to return. Dare to dox anyone else or pop your Down's Syndrome looking head up again, I dox your whole fucking family. Phone numbers, addresses, photos. It's all saved. The horse is already out of the barn, running down the street.
Now...