If you don't like me or the way I'm living, then just leave this old short haired kountry guy alone

After taking my meds and settling down a bit I'm going to put some things out and I don't give a crap what heads I step on here.
Some new heckler had to get on one of my blogs and bitch that what I speak and write here is bullshit. First , RodeWolf Toewing is the same creature as Highway Hooker and Dixie Toewing, just a new location. The reason I did a rename here in Evanston was a request of my partner at our old shop. Plus the fact that some buttwipe cop in Cokeville Didn't like Highway Hooker, nor fully tried to discern its true meaning. So fine. After much searching and thought, I renamed the company RodeWolf Toewing. Didn't make us any money, in fact we lost money, and nearly zero calls, at least Highway Hooker Toewing will get 8 calls a week. Which after this week I can run since LexiBelle will be mechanically sound. So yes and no to RodeWolf Toewing be real or not. RodeWolf is my cb handle and as such made sense. I have tried to accomodate all too many and push away my gut feelings, but who gets hurt in the wallet? Me. It's like when Nathan moved into my shop down behind Freeway Tires here. Right away he wanted to change things. So the shop got renamed to Dixie Garage. Even though my full intent was simply Hazzard County Choppers which is the only name in all area phone books. But even before that, when I first got here I was only going to do the radio gig, hire if I could someone or two to run it and me go home to Idaho, that's why I hedged for so long to go fetch LexiBelle. So I found Lotty's had closed, was in the process of doing that and yes I have mucho paperwork on that, and in that a lady at the Smoker Friendly shop across the street wanted me to hire her daughter. I told her not yet, but if the daughter wanted to try doing radio great. So soon after they came bobling up to the Wolf's Lair, took up my time and resources and still didn't sit down to do anything. Course it took and thankfully they did, but our church Ward reluctantly helped me retrieve all the radio gear to bring here. Still no body with a vagina would show up here to do radio. More over the vast amount of them had no idea how to do on air LIVE radio, no matter the method of delivery either over the air or online. Yet it was okay for good old Patrick here to spend dollars to feed them at Jody's and elsewhere, or buy gallons of coffee and/or sodas. What did I get? Kick in the jaw. The daughter even had the ovaries to go out and tell people she didn't get paid. Thing is , what was I to pay her for? She never did anything. While I love my brother Rick at and of our old shop, the fact is, whether it was Rick, Nathan, or that drug dealer Joey, who went in on the shop, never was anything done to my mini service truck, the General still has a power steering leak, and only for a strong push was the Subaru ever re-enabled. No everybody elses shit in the shop, got repaired but not the ones that could make us money. Then many say well he didn't pay the bills, my response hey you want to shove me and my projects into a corner fine, shove my money into the same corner and don't bitch when I don't pony up. Then there was the offices up in the upper stories of the Wells Fargo building here. I was all game for that for the radio station. Even had CenturyLink willing to try and do a 1gig connection. But then it was okay on the office rent for $300.00, but $500.00 more just to put an antenna on the top of the building? So we looked into the old town hall. Except they don't and didn't want bikers there. Oh well. Then there was the damn bar outside of town here,. As long as that ball was in play I was an angel, the minute I pulled away from that, I was Mr. asshole. Then there was the young gal living across from me at the Washatie Apartments. She was online, selling everything except her body to pay a over due electric and water bill. So I piped in and said as an act of kindness and paid her water and power bill, but just as soon as I did, she was online bad mouthing me. Really? There's the old adage, no good deed goes unpunished, in Evanston, good or otherwise deeds you still get punished. So here it is. From me to all who will read this. This old Wolf, is prowling alone and tending to my needs and all, no more helps, no more lending money, no more doing free tows, no more discount auto repair, I'm paying my own damn bills , I'm taking care of me. And at the earliest as I can, I'm pulling up the anchor and leaving, I have had it. Piss on this stinky, stubborn ignorant arrogant town. Sorry, just like it was once near mountain Home Idaho, I didn't kiss the ass of the filthy fifty, so I am being condemned. I loved Beaver Dick saying something along the lines of him being one trying to help me, its just like a few others, any time anybody says their going to help you, to do what you want to do, unless their going to get something out of it, your about to take it up the ass. 
The thing is , because their business or whatever is threatened because they can't(or wont) do what we do, the feel the need to leash out at me and or the Club. 
So as I end this, you don't like me, Fuck Off , problem solved, or to paraphrase a few lines from a Charley Daniels Song, " You don't like the way I'm living you just let this old short haired southern kountry boy alone" . 
TTYLY