Lolcow Leonard F. Shaner Jr. - Autistic Pedophile / Foamer / Shitlord

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Do you prefer Shaner to get permabanned?

  • Yes

    Votes: 63 36.6%
  • No

    Votes: 109 63.4%

  • Total voters
    172
  • Poll closed .
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The problems that Len has in my opinion are that he thinks he right all the time. He could serious trouble and thinks it's not his fault. I'm told by several people that worked with at various museums and tourist lines that they don't like him. All of them said pretty much the same thing. He treats them like they are his bitches.

How come you know different people that had personal encounters with Len? I thought you were saying that you just had some communications with him on a railroad forum.
 
Sounds like OPL at the GamePlace...... Thinking he pretty much owns the place and everyone else needs to stay out of his way, and losing his mind when he gets the ban from "his" private little clubhouse. You know, it's amazing, as more and more time goes by, the more and more they seem like they MUST be related.
Be funny if Lenny was OPL's distant cousin wouldn't it.
 
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I find it funny that he stills has his "Project 565" page up. Some volunteers from Steamtown told me he can't volunteer there anymore. Guess the guy can't figure out that he is gone for good. I love the look on his face in the photo. His brain is shutting down after being on for five minutes that day. He is the ugliest person I have ever seen.
 

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How come you know different people that had personal encounters with Len? I thought you were saying that you just had some communications with him on a railroad forum.
I did only have a dealing with him on that forum. But when he gave shit. I found out other people had problems with him. And I started chatting with other people about him.
 
I did only have a dealing with him on that forum. But when he gave shit. I found out other people had problems with him. And I started chatting with other people about him.

Just a heads up: We've dealt with accounts being created from people who "know Shaner" that turned out to be Shaner sockpuppets trying to "white knight" him or gather info about us, so you'll need to forgive me if I don't trust you at all at the moment.
 
Just a heads up: We've dealt with accounts being created from people who "know Shaner" that turned out to be Shaner sockpuppets trying to "white knight" him or gather info about us, so you'll need to forgive me if I don't trust you at all at the moment.
I don't blame you. I know Len is trying find out who certain people are on here. I fell to the floor laughing when I saw him say on Facebook that the FBI is watching this page.

I'm also waiting for him to say the CIA is watching.
 
I don't blame you. I know Len is trying find out who certain people are on here. I fell to the floor laughing when I saw him say on Facebook that the FBI is watching this page.

I'm also waiting for him to say the CIA is watching.
He already has. /Baph, the mob and anonymoose too.
 
He was acting like on Facebook that everything is going well for him. Man. I would love to see his face when everything goes to hell for him at his trial. We all should send him diapers in the mail. I'm sure he will need alot of them after he loses.

Well... you're probably not Len but without a doubt, you're certainly a railfan.
 
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Sounds like OPL at the GamePlace...... Thinking he pretty much owns the place and everyone else needs to stay out of his way, and losing his mind when he gets the ban from "his" private little clubhouse. You know, it's amazing, as more and more time goes by, the more and more they seem like they MUST be related.

By their powers combined.

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Leonard F Shaner, Jr. never fails to offer up irrefutable proof that his fingerprints are all over the dagger that has been implanted to the hilt in our collective back, but that's not the point of this letter. The point is that you have my word that it has long been obvious to all but Shaner's most fervent drones that Shaner frequently demands reparations for what only he perceives as injustices committed against him. First things first: There is no more noble activity than reviewing the basic issues at the root of the debate. The interest of that portion of social arrangement is a trust in the hands of all those who compose it; and as none but iscariotic, execrable quiddlers would justify it in abuse, none but blackguards would barter it away for their own personal advantage. The implication, of course, is that Shaner's legatees get a thrill out of protesting. They have no idea what causes they're fighting for or against. For them, going down to the local protest, carrying a sign, hanging out with Shaner, and meeting some other contentious mob bosses is merely a social event. Shaner is apparently fond of strategizing. It's also rather apparent that Shaner maintains not only that we ought to worship yellow-bellied, sullen buffoons as folk heroes but also that deranged autistics are the most oppressed people in our society. He's wrong on all counts. In reality, Shaner's jokes are more than just meddlesome. They're a revolt against nature.

What Shaner is doing is not an innocent, recreational sort of thing. It is a criminal activity; it is an immoral activity; it is a socially destructive activity; and it is a profoundly corrupt activity. His hostile dream is starting to come true. Liberties are being killed by attrition. Propagandism is being installed by accretion. The only way that we can reverse these trends is to keep our priorities in check. To be precise, he should not hurt people's feelings. Not now, not ever. Shaner sincerely believes that we should cast our lots with eccentric weasels.

he also likes to shit in diapers
 
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I'm having a really hard time believing your stories of late.

Part 2: The Tale of Sam Woody, Privet Eye. Another completely true story about Len.
You will not find a truer tale about Len than this.

That afternoon, after a few stiff drinks, and a stiffer drink, I set out to look for Len Shaner. If all went well, I'd get to the bottom of things. if all went worse, I might be buying him a Chicago overcoat. I checked all his usual places, the bars, the railroads, and then I looked under the nearby Schuylkill bridge. Len could often be found there, looking for trolls. He was obsessed with them. He looked for them everywhere. But, Len was not looking for them today. A large threaded band between the pylons prevented anyone from entering where the trolls might dwell, and so far the thread band seemed to be keeping Len out.
Feeling like I'd taken a trip for biscuits, I turned away, when trouble showed up in the shape of a beach-party blonde with drumsticks as far as you could want ’em. She seemed sultry and smooth, in a little black dress that was more little than dress.
"So, they tell me you're a dick," she said, her voice so smoking hot the slightest breeze could set it afire.
"We prefer the term privet eye," I said, blowing gently in her direction.
"I hear you're looking for Len. Are they right?"
"Who's asking?"
"They call me, Curlee Bee. Cur Bee, to her friends. Pufferton sent me. I'm his best agent. I know where you can find Shaner. He's in his house. He's always in his house when he's not foaming over trains. He plays with those sockpuppets of his. They're the only friends he has left."
"That's as sad as a song, so what's a doll like you going after Len for, Miss Bee?"
"The answer is quite simple. I'm a woman, Detective Woody. All women hate Len."
"Even his mother?"
"Oh, especially his mother." And with that, she was gone, and so was I.

I knew when I was getting close to Len's place. Len had smeared feces on every fence post for blocks around his house. Shit posting was his first line of defense, possibly his only line of defense. It kept most people away. I was not most people. I approached his house from the north, stepping over piles of broken train parts and smashed dreams. Little kids could not own a model train in Pottstown. Len would not allow it, and had crushed them all, and now they surrounded his house like a minefield of children's tears.
Signs had been put up everywhere. "NO KIWIS!" they said. I was not a flightless bird, or a fruit, so I walked on by. I knew he was home. I could smell him... several miles ago. It was time to confront Shaner...
 
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