Why keep posting this endless stream of recycled victimhood, projection, and half-truths?
Because if you stop posting, you’d have to sit in silence with the truth—that you chose lies over your children, pride over healing, and performance over parenthood. The noise is your cover. Without it, the silence is unbearable.

Why not take a few days, drive or fly to Washington, and complete the in-person evaluation(s) you are required by court order to begin the process of lifting your no-contact orders?
Because the minute you step into a real evaluation, the mask slips. The professionals won’t buy the act, and you know it. A lifetime of dodging accountability has made one thing clear: you’d rather lose your children than lose control of the narrative.

Why is there so much energy spent crafting a narrative of alienation, yet none devoted to the actual solution to the alienation you claim?
Because you were never alienated—you engineered the distance. You feed off the role of victim because it gives you attention. The solution requires humility, work, and responsibility—three things you’ve run from your entire life.

Why do you still refuse to use Our Family Wizard, the court-approved communication tool?
Because in a place where every word is documented, you lose your favorite weapons: manipulation, gaslighting, and abuse. OFW is sunlight, and you’ve built your kingdom in the dark. You don’t avoid it because it’s inconvenient—you avoid it because it exposes you.

Why do you claim “everyone is lying about you,” but never specify what those lies are?
Because the lies only exist in your head. Vagueness is your shield. If you ever got specific, it could be disproven—and the last thing you can afford is the collapse of your carefully curated victim story.

Why do you continue to call Melissa vindictive, yet never take her to court to prove it?
Because deep down you know the truth: you’d lose. Court requires evidence, not hashtags. Judges don’t care about your Facebook sermons. Melissa isn’t vindictive—she’s a mother protecting her children from the chaos you create.

Why do you talk endlessly about having “proof” of tax debts, yet when asked directly—over and over—you refuse to share it?
Because there is no proof. Just another smoke bomb tossed into the air to distract people from asking the real questions. If you truly had the documents, you’d shove them in everyone’s face. Instead, you dangle them like a conman selling snake oil.

Why, Mark, is it always the same? At Nathan’s basketball game, you laughed while your friend screamed obscenities at children and parents. While Liam fought for his life in treatment, you forced him to sign a fake “contract” denying his diagnosis. In every crisis, you don’t show up to heal—you show up to harm.

Because chaos is the only arena where you can win. Accountability terrifies you. Work repels you. Love exposes you. So you stay in the only role you’ve ever mastered: the loudest victim in the room.

And that’s why, when history writes this story, the truth will cut deeper than any blog post ever could: you weren’t alienated. You weren’t silenced. You weren’t sabotaged.

You were given the path back to your children—clear, simple, court-ordered—and you chose to burn it down.

Why so many selfies, Mark?
Because the only person you’re parenting is your own reflection. Every pout, every filter, every staged pose is a shrine to yourself. A good father takes pictures of his kids. You take endless pictures of yourself because it’s the only proof you can manufacture that you exist. The irony? Every selfie is a timestamp of absence—another day you chose your image over your children.