June 25th, 2025 – Somewhere between delusion and obsession
I don’t even know where to start with this. Honestly. Every time I sit down to write about Simpfart, I feel like I’m peeling back another layer of moldy, festering, emotionally diseased onion. He’s not just another terminally online freak. No, no. Simpfart is a devout Canadian (like, maple-syrup-in-the-veins kind of Canadian) who wears emotional manipulation like cologne, and reeks of unfiltered desperation.
Let me walk you through this creep-fest.
It all started on Fishtank Live, that absurd online reality show where degenerates, incels, and fame-starved hopefuls gather in a house and melt their brains on camera for 24 hours a day. That’s where Simpfart saw her. Angelina. Braces, babydoll voice, and an innocent smile that had “dangerously unavailable” written all over it. She’s in a committed relationship, folks. Literally has a boyfriend. That didn’t stop Simpfart.
Oh, no. It activated him.
While normal people watched the show and maybe cracked a few jokes in chat, Simpfart was busy writing Angelina paragraphs in DMs. We’re talking love letters disguised as “concerned fan messages.” Paragraphs about how her boyfriend “doesn’t deserve her” and how he could “treat her better up north.” Up north. As in Canada. As in his parents’ basement, I assume.
He started calling her “Snow Angel.” He made AI art of them holding hands in the tundra. He posted a picture of an empty guest room with the caption:
“Just imagine you in here, Angie. Fresh snow outside, hot cocoa on the stove, no distractions. Just us.”
It gets worse.
The latest development? He’s now actively planning to fly her out to a “secluded location in Canada” to stay with him for three months. THREE. MONTHS. In a cabin he claims is “fully stocked” and “completely off-grid.” Do you hear the alarm bells? Because I do. They sound like a dying moose screaming RUN, GIRL in Morse code.
Let’s pause for a second.
Angelina. Is. In. A. Relationship. This man is fantasizing about extracting her from it. In real life. Into the snow. With him. Alone.
And I know what you’re thinking. “Surely she wouldn’t go.” And you’d be right. Except Simpfart has a way of breaking people down. That’s his real talent, gaslighting through emotional whimpering. He floods her inbox with voice memos that sound like a depressed Muppet explaining how “lonely” Canada is and how “pure” his intentions are. The manipulation is Olympic level. If Angelina so much as leaves her boyfriend on read, Simpfart treats it like a spiritual sign.
And you just know the guy has a ring cam watching the driveway of that cabin. Probably already got a toothbrush labeled “Angie ❤️” sitting next to his in the bathroom. This isn’t a romcom. It’s a Dateline special waiting to happen.
And let’s not forget: he chose the name Simpfart. That tells you everything. It’s a confession wrapped in a username. A declaration of identity. A warning.
So if you see a pale figure in a red flannel hovering near your Instagram DMs whispering about “snowbound love,” run. It’s him. It’s always been him.
Lock your doors. Guard your braces.
Do not go to the cabin.
You’ve been warned.
— cracka_jack