We Hurt Gun Nuts’ Feelings And They Want Information On Me, So Here It Is


I hurt a couple (tons) of gun whackos’ fee fees so they’re trying to gather information on me. This has all happened before with Facebook groups – one touting the virtues of the Confederacy but they were dumbasses and didn’t know how to utilize Google.

It’s not just one guy behind it; this sort of thing happens a lot so I’m going to help them out here.




















I’m beating them to the punch, y’all.

I’ve been using the super-sneaky pseudonym Anomaly100 since day one when we opened this site because my privacy is, or was important to me, but all the trolls had to do was ask if they really wanted to know who I am.

My name is Conover Farndon Kennard. Don’t judge me. I didn’t not name myself, OK?

I’ve been a very bad girl during my time on Earth. They can judge me for my past but not harder than I have myself.

I’ve done some good, too, but I’m not writing this to extol my virtues.

Instead, I’m going to highlight the bad, because that’s all haters care about and after this, they can’t say anything y’all won’t already know.

I was a model for many years. I was married to a musician. My life was wild.

I’ve been a drug addict. I’ve witnessed death far too many times. I once found my best friend dead on my couch. The image of Joe, who had turned blue, when I returned home that day will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Without naming names, a Lord, related to the royal family, once drove his wife’s body to my home, not realizing she was dead from an overdose. He told his friend, “Let’s go to Conover’s. Women know about these things.” What an asshole. He made an illegal U-turn in front of my home and was stopped by the police. You can guess what happened next. Reporters besieged the front of my home and the phone rang off the hook. This went on for days.

I’ve been self-destructive. At times, I only cared about drugs. I went to dozens of rehabs and detoxes to no avail. Then one day, I just fell to my knees and prayed. ‘God if you can hear me, I’ll always give you the credit for my recovery. I. just. can’t. stop. I’m sick. Are you there?!’

It’s now about 14 years later and I’m so over that shit. 14 years sober. I did it with help from my God.

But I had to climb a mountain to do it.

After coming home one day from a movie studio in the 80s, I found my beloved husband dead in a bathtub. One would think I would never do another drug. I didn’t do hard drugs until after I met him, but I don’t place the blame on him at all.

It was a crazy life. He was a musician on a world tour and drugs back then were just part of that life. I was a model, traveling from country to country for years. It was/is/ part of that life, too.

We met and I was swept off my feet. He died and I was left alone in a country that didn’t feel like home.

My self-destructive tour went wild. A lot of people in London blamed me for Pete’s death and I allowed them that. I never corrected them. I only cared about his memory, hoping to leave it less tarnished after the tabloids had their fun. I didn’t care really because it made others feel better to have a scapegoat and I didn’t have time to think of myself. I could only think of the man I loved so very much. Nothing else mattered.

The singer in Pete’s band said stuff like this:

According to Hynde, Farndon’s widow, Conover, had told the press, as well as his family, that as far as she knew he hadn’t been taking drugs. “It just confused his mother and made it all the more bewildering,” says Chrissie. “I really loved Mrs. Farndon, and I didn’t want this woman, who was undergoing this horrible grief, to be so confused and in the dark about it.” So Chrissie called her a week after the funeral. “I said, ‘You know, he was taking drugs. He was taking smack. He was strung out on smack. He was shooting it up.’ I was trying to tell her the truth. If you know the truth. you can choose not to believe it. But it you’re left in ignorance …”

Wellllll, that’s not exactly what happened, but whatever. I let people say things because I gave zero fucks what the media said.

Despite our past, I respect Chrissie Hynde. She’s a very talented woman and I hold no ill will toward her. I’ll leave it at that.

One guy knows the whole truth: Pete Townshend. He knows I tried to get Pete help. He knows that so very well. He was a friend.

Moving on….

I am pure evil.

Oh lookie, a song for my fire breathing trolls:

I am Conover Farndon Kennard, writing this while still standing tall, feeling naked (me being naked is not a sight you can UNsee), but remaining proud because I lived through it all.

Most of my old friends are dead, but they would have wanted me to survive. Pete, Joe, Stiv Bators and countless others, would have wanted me to live, to thrive and to make a difference —  if possible.

I’ve done things others would not do, but I am now drug-free with a story to be told; Never let others frighten you because they found out ‘something’ about you. Never back down.

Forgive me for my faults. Forgive me for being human and having a past.

As for the haters, until you’ve walked in my shoes, shut the fucking fuck up.

To answer this alleged human’s question, Conover is a Scottish name actually.
















I’ve been viciously trolled on Twitter, like most people who want Gun Sense in America. It got so bad that my ex-boyfriend was getting pissed on Twitter, calling them pussies (they are) and that hurt their troll feelings.

After the vicious and seemingly unending attacks, they’re now reporting my account.

Now that I’ve written about all the bad parts of my life, trolls have nothing left to ‘find’ out. All of the ‘bad stuff’ happened decades ago.

There is no there there.

Not anymore.

There, I said it.

With Love,


This post is dedicated to Pete Farndon and James Honeyman Scott.  I’m certain they’d tell the doxxers to ‘fuck off’. 

Prepare for the gun masturbators to play victim now. It’s all about them.

If you retweet this, please use the hashtags: #GunSense and #TrollSec.

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