YES, Child: Patrick Tomlinson('s wife) Finally Settles 'Lolsuit' To The Tune of $83k

Turns out he owed *many* pennies, stlaker.

One-time author and possible homosexual Patrick S. Tomlinson has, along with his wife, satisfied the final amount of debt owed stemming from his ill-fated 2021 lawsuit against an OnA Forums user known as Quasi101. The porcine prognosticator had obstinately vowed on several high-profile podcasts as recently as less than a year ago that he “will never pay his abusers.” This insistence dragged the dead-in-the-water suit on for years until interest had ballooned the amount from $34,726.25 to a staggering $83,736.99. Evidence of the payment was displayed in a recent post on Tomlinson’s Kiwi Farms thread by user Plaintiff is fat:

This understandably stressful event was likely what had spurred several days of Tomlinson furiously prisoning his stalker children; X user and anti-fan @pattymeatloaf has been diligently keeping an invoice on his obsessive-compulsive xeeting, which included some variation of the phrase “Enjoy prison,” appearing on his feed a total of 333 times for March 13 alone. That was followed up on the 18th with a speed record of 112 prisonings in the span of only 33 minutes, and 39 prisonings in only 23 minutes as I write this, but the day’s early.

Thank you, Patty.

The revelation of the settlement of Tomlinson’s longstanding legal debts puts a new shine on his recent decision to sue the Milwaukee PD for everything from abuse of office to illegal search and seizure, specifically naming one Sergeant Lyndon Evans as “the worst offender”.

It would behoove me to remind our fine audience that it was only months ago that Pattycakes decided to take an unprovoked swing at one of the police officers responding to a recent SWATting call. Tomlinson erupted into a violent fit after heaping verbal abuse at Cream City’s finest from the top of his atrophied lungs. During the ensuing struggle, Tomlinson can be heard threatening the officers, “If you put those cuffs on, it’s gonna be a million dollar lawsuit.”

In a supreme display of white privilege, Tomlinson managed to avoid arrest despite committing a Class H felony under Wisconsin law.

If you’ll allow me to don my aluminum thinking cap for a moment, it seems to me that Tomlinson, who has been previously documented going through money like Hooligan’s meatloaf through an obese man’s digestive system, splurging on such on luxuries as international vacations and new laptops, is betting all of his grease-smeared chips on getting a tidy settlement from the city in an effort to recoup his legal fees.

If this seems absurd, it is. But that hardly means it’s unlikely. In the sweaty, hypertensive blur that is Tomlinson’s life and decision making, one must imagine the stupidest and most needlessly self-destructive avenue forward possible, then watch as he somehow manages to one-up your wildest, most asinine expectations. He could have quietly accepted the initial ruling, gotten a minimum wage job, kept things to himself, and gone about his business while gaining real-life experiences that could have served as inspiration for a future novel. He could have risen from his ashes. He could have held onto some dignity. Instead, he . . .

Well, you know.

One must imagine the stupidest and most needlessly self-destructive avenue forward possible, then watch as [Tomlinson] somehow manages to one-up your wildest, most asinine expectations.

He’s set enough of SFWA’s money on fire that he is no doubt a pariah even among that gaggle of reprobates. His insanity has become so well-known by now it’s unlikely anyone in publishing is answering his emails. He’s taken so long to write his Tiny Tim historical thriller, A Christmas Carnage, that a parody version has already been published by his alleged cyber stalkers that features a racist ghost of Scrooge warning of the untrustworthiness of “dagos”. It will no doubt be infinitely more entertaining than any anachronism stew, Brexit jokes and all, that Tomlinson manages to excrete. And that’s to say nothing of the fact that the whole premise is so similar to a much better received work by a far more talented author, Louis Bayard’s Mr. Timothy, that people have cautioned Tomlinson against treading into spotty legal areas. Patrick’s response to said warnings has been: “Good to know.” I know I’ll have my pre-order ready when/if that fated release day comes.

Also, let’s not forget:

BUCKLE UP—IT’S ONLY MARCH, PEOPLE. Pat! Buddy—this one goes out to you; it’s a good one for the treadmill. You fought so hard to lose it all. And in the end, it didn’t even matter.