jessica yaniv simpson top 10 medical marvels

Top 10 Jessica Yaniv Simpson Medical Marvels of 2020

Courtesy of The Lone Gunmen.

With popular Canadian medical dramas beaming throughout the land – Transplant, Nurses – and drawing in viewers from the UK, US, and Australia – it’s little wonder that Jonathan Jessica Yaniv Simpson wants screen time for his own farty, fainty, fatty, fabulist show.

He was well-designed in the womb for theatrics. Genetic havoc baked in Dandy-Walker malformation with its Blake pouch cyst in his skull, hydrocephalus, neurological impairments, atonal (unmuscled) body, poor dexterity, and even his failing hearing.

jessica yaniv simpson

But what, out of all the stupid, self-destructive things he did to himself and all the lies he splattered around about his medical conditions, really stands out for 2020? Here we go! And if this is not enough for you, go to MeowMix’s Document Library, pop open the Other Documents folder, and take a look at “Yaniv’s Ailments.” Cheers!


In 2020, JJYS finally hit the suicide ceiling. He’s dramatized his imminent demise with abandon for more than two years straight – sometimes several times a month when trying to manipulate government officials. But this year, JJYS found the supporting cast in his ultimate medical drama had left the stage.

The RCMP shocked the shit out of him in November by hanging up when he called to announce he was too displeased with life to live. He should have seen it coming. Earlier in the year, an RCMP dispatcher told him to quit pressing his ambulance button – a device to be used only by “really, really very sick people.” So like, ya, he sued.

2020 death watch highlights:

  • 6/11, eve of his 33rd birthday, tells the wiley catfisher Sara the past year has been the worst of his life and was filled with multiple suicide attempts
  • 8/2, says on Snapchat he wants someone to kill him because he no longer wants to live
  • 8/28, “I’m upset and extremely suicidal today”; moments later he made jokes about someone’s name
  • 8/30, “I’ve been suicidal for days and you’re not helping”; “I am suicidal if you don’t believe me ask my mom”; Miriam did in fact tell Sara that JJYS was suicidal more than once, Document Library > Chat Logs > Miriam and Sara Chats
  • 9/2, “I need medication, I need help. I just cried to crime assistance just now saying I am suicidal, now I will have a rove of cops come over to me. Great”
  • 9/8, “I will do something to myself. That’s not a threat, that’s a fact”
  • 11/2, at sentencing hearing, judge notes JJYS has claimed to have engaged in self-harm
  • 11/19, “My depression is killing me tonight. The worst I’ve ever been in a long time, perhaps ever”

And yet you know and I know that the drama will continue.


Despite showing a fondness in the past for his late father, JJYS decided 2020 was the year to throw ol’ Yitzhak under the genetic bus.

In trying to seduce Sara, who told him she had been conceived through IVF, JJYS said in August that he, too, had been conceived that way. Yitzhak had had a vasectomy after his first marriage and wasn’t JJYS’s bio-dad. 

While odds are that’s bullshit, Yitzhak did have three children with his first wife, Ahuva, and then two childless marriages before he married Miriam. The two marriages in the middle – to Edith and Frances – were brief, so childlessness is not in and of itself suspicious. Also, Yitzhak may have been paying child support to Ahuva, knew a pressman’s salary was going to stretch only so far, and blocked conception with some means short of a vaz.

But if we have IVF to thank for JJYS, Miriam did a great job finding a sperm donor who looked like her husband. JJYS doesn’t resemble very many people, but he sure does resemble Yitzhak. (On the right, JJYS aged in FaceApp.)


To JJYS, doctors aren’t experts who give advice that should be followed. They are servants paid by BC taxpayers to comfort him and give him fun pills and devices to play when he lies to them.

So although his doctor told him not to, cash-strapped JJYS gifted himself with tanning booth treatments. His summer fun included photographing young girls at the beach and lurking around pools, including a pool at a gym where he signed up for a competitive girl’s swim team, sneering in a tweet that activist Kari Simpson could not stop him.

Alas, obesity and poor swimming did stop him. But, y’know, there’s still the locker rooms! He had his sights set on those years before claiming to be trans. He’s always been just one of the girls.


In August, the growth beneath JJYS’s nose that has repulsed people for years was sliced off, leaving him more beautiful than ever. A neighbour soon noticed. But the little scalpel nick hurt like hell afterwards, he wept to Sara in a video. However will he bear the aftermath of gender reassignment surgery? (Clue: He won’t. Keep reading.)


For JJYS, diabetes is just a prop in his dramas. Actually reducing his sugar intake is too much of a deprivation to bear no matter how sick sugar makes him.

True to form, in May 2020, he drooled over a strawberry shortcake blizzard brought to him across the arduous 2.2 miles from Dairy Queen by a DoorDash driver – 97 grams of sugar, zero nutrients, zero exercise to help burn off the sugar.

Diabetes is not a problem for him to solve anyway. As he told Sara in July, “my blood sugar is having issues today.” Silly old blood sugar needs to learn how to cope, right? And it better learn fast, for as JJYS also told her, he habitually takes less of his meds than prescribed or doesn’t take them at all as a way to self-harm. That jibes with his telling an online doctor in July 2019 that he was taking only half of the metformin prescribed for his diabetes despite EMTs having to repeatedly haul his vast ass to the hospital for the effects of high blood sugar.

And of course, he’s figured out a way to sue over it. In September 2020, he sued the Town of Langley in part because he had to wait 5 minutes for juice he demanded for low blood sugar during his 2½ hour jail stay when he was booked for an illegal weapon back in August 2019.

His mother doesn’t seem to mind that he’s eating himself to death. Miriam is often right beside him when he’s gorging, picking up the tab at The Keg next to their stratas in Walnut Grove. Maybe he’s fought her to a standstill over it or maybe she’s afraid of outliving him. At 66, she’s clearly healthier than he is at 33, even though she, too, has a genetic morass to deal with (see her comment below the main text at that link).


In 2020, there were signs that JJYS’s doctors got ahead of a looming problem: his potential addiction to prescription painkillers. During the previous year, JJYS seemed to be gulping pills at will, a genius move that, when combined with tossing back shots of booze or guzzling a bottle of Bailey’s as he watches camgirls and TikTok kids, may be what brings his suicide-baiting to fruition.

He told Raygen, for example, that he had taken “a million pain killers” just to be able to make a plate of food and told MandaPanda that he was on “heavy” pain medication. Even in 2020, he was telling Sara, “I have a lot of pain again. Just took some pain meds. Hopefully that helps,” as though he had not been abiding by any dosing schedule. He also mentioned taking sleeping pills.

But by September, he said he’d cut back on painkillers and was getting injections into muscle tissue, presumably trigger point injections of steroids, because of pain from an extruded disc, possibly the injury at the lumbosacral joint (L5/S1) he complained about to MandaPanda, a problem that may date back to 2015 when he told a 15-year-old Cimorelli fan, “I hurt my back really bad.”

By November, he was moaning not about back pain but about hip pain, saying on Snapchat that it “feels like a bullet has gone through the fucking side of my hip.” About 5 days later, he entertained EMTs by claiming to have a “fused hip,” which he apparently thought was a medical condition. It is instead an antiquated surgical procedure that he has not had. His hip pain could very well stem from dysplasia caused by the obvious oversupination of his feet. He stopped wearing orthotics to correct that condition when he was 12 and has not been doing the kinds of exercises (or any kind of exercise) that would help ease it.

Whatever his actual condition, he wants to make money with it. So far, he’s claimed his pain stems from a reporter hitting him with a car (nope), a massage table collapsing under his weight (yep, part of the table dropped down, and he got a $2,500 just-go-away settlement for it), and a car striking his car from behind (yep, his insurer replaced his car with a Nissan Kicks, and his complaints of whiplash faded away).

Soiling his credibility even more are his random displays of fitness. In September, for instance, he was seen running across a highway to reach his mother’s strata and pacing around a courthouse wearing a heavy backpack, then dashing up 22 steps (twice) to avoid using an elevator where he might be confronted by Enemies.

You be the judge. Here he is walking away from the courthouse in September, on his way to a parking space reserved for the disabled. The supination of his feet is obvious. Like a toddler, he’s keeping his legs apart as though he’s wearing a diaper. (See #2 below. Pun intended.)


One thing diabetics and people on painkillers are supposed to avoid: Alcohol.

JJYS tells doctors he does avoid it, too. But thanks to his past gigs pouring samples in liquor stores, he has amassed a huge collection of booze in his apartment and is as happy to knock down a shot of spiced rum on camera as he is to show young girls how to mix rum with candy to make a yummy treat.

He, of course, filters his fugly to the max when encouraging teens online to drink because nothing’s more alluring than a 300-pound 33-year-old man pretending to be a sexed-up little girl.

Neighbours say that he disposes of lots of empty bottles and has lumbered around drunk at 9:30 a.m. That won’t help him with his mood swings. For all the high spirits booze can trigger at first, it is actually a central nervous system depressant. Ultimately, it may be alcohol that kills him, not all the other shit that’s wrong with him or all the other self-destructive things he does.


After 2019’s theatrical attempts to qualify for a disability benefit by flailing a reporter with a cane and crashing a mobility scooter into elevators when not riding it through a McDonald’s drive-in, JJYS was proud to announce in 2020 that the government had certified him as disabled. He was at first shy about what his disability is, though.

Had he scored for mobility problems after all? A service dog program turned him down in May on that score, though.

It’s most likely that he scored with his worsening hearing impairment, which is rooted in his family’s dysfunctional genetics. Carlee reported that JJYS’s mother uses hearing aids, while his Aunt Ilana uses sign language. He told an online doctor in July 2019 that an audiologist had found he had 50% hearing loss in both ears then, and a couple of months later, an online doctor noted that JJYS was wearing hearing aids on both ears.

He eventually stated in two of his vexatious lawsuits that he is hearing impaired (Choos, Langley). That same month he commanded his strata to install a strobe-light alarm in his unit, a practical item for someone who might not hear the sound of an ordinary fire alarm but not so practical for someone with epilepsy, which he was claiming in 2019 to have.

In October, seeing was believing. Someone noted on the Kiwi Farms that the little external piece of a HearGlow hearing aid was visible in one of JJYS’s endless selfies. He may not be a satisfied customer. While in Toronto, he complained to Sara that “One of my hearing aids died so I’m having a bit of issues hearing” her voicemail. A month later, when trying to squeeze more attention out of the RCMP, he complained his hearing aids weren’t working.


Evidence of incontinence – fecal and urinary – also came together in 2020. The first tentative report came from a neighbour in 2019 who shared a pic showing the diapered look of JJYS’s backside and then in March 2020 reported a strong fecal smell when riding an elevator with him.

In August, someone on the Kiwi Farms stated, “I had to share a lift with Yaniv. When he got in his face went bright red and I just ignored him, but there was a strong smell of urine. The diaper was super noticeable under his shorts.” In December, a neighbour was “pretty sure she saw @trustednerd get out of his car and it looks like peed his pants.”

A caregiver who routinely changes adult diapers chimed in, noting the seams showing through the shorts in the elevator picture match those of a diaper. What has appeared to be displays of severe flatulence when he’s streaming may be something more substantial moving along.

How JJYS has been reduced to dumping in diapers as anything other than a fetish has yet to be determined. He may be using muscle relaxants for back and hip pain or as sedatives for his frequently announced anxiety attacks. Constantly sticking sex toys and tampons up his ass could have weakened the anal sphincter but wouldn’t explain the urinary incontinence. (Did I actually just write that sentence?!?) But it’s also possible that his genetic disorders are playing out, with his muscles becoming too atonal for his anal and urethral sphincters to remain closed.

He’s had gastrointestinal problems for years, complaining in his college days of bleeding ulcers, and has weirdly bragged to girls like MandaPanda about constantly farting because the gluten-heavy foods he likes to pig up cause tremendous gas, errr, “menstrual cramps.” His symptoms actually sound a lot like irritable bowel syndrome, which can result in fecal incontinence, but again, would not explain the urinary incontinence.

He would be better off having surgery to alleviate incontinence (urinary, fecal) than installing a “pussy” open to bacteria from his diapers, but practicality doesn’t visit his life often.


And here we are at the peak of 2020’s Top 10 Medical Marvels: JJYS’s continuing pussorama drama. While proclaiming that he already has a “fucking pussy” while nevertheless sending a dick pic to a lesbian, he repeatedly badgered the GrS Montréal clinic for gender reassignment surgery (GRS).

In 2019, he flunked out of Vancouver General Hospital’s new GRS program. Then in 2020, he got off to a bad start with the Montréal program, ending a video exam early because he didn’t want to show them the genitals that he loves showing lesbians. He next began pressing them for a surgery date every couple of days and noticed they were becoming annoyed with him.

It therefore made sense to him to make a surprise visit to the Montréal clinic. After he flew to Toronto with his mother in July expecting to pounce on Sara and her fantasy 2-year-old at a hospital there only to be commanded to stay away, he rented a car and made the 5-hour drive to Montréal. There he stalked around in the dark making a fan video, gushing about the “magic” made in the building. In the morning, he barged in without an appointment.

Admin staff answered some questions, but he then had to leave, driving the sad 4,575km/2,843mi back to with Miriam, rather than risk airline travel during a pandemic for a second time. He only made it as far as Winnipeg, where he hopped on a flight the rest of the way home. Maybe the diaper supply was almost exhausted.

We can hope that the answers he got improved his understanding of what GRS does and doesn’t do. With Sara he said he wanted not just vaginoplasty but also an “oreoctomy” (y’know, like when Dr. Nabisco lops off your cookies), yet he foggily seemed to think the procedure would give him a cervix and possibly ovaries. He appeared at that point to have forgotten he told Sara he was born with both a penis and a vagina AND had ovaries just like his intersex “cousins” did.

When she said she was afraid to meet him because he had lied about his reproductive organs, he spat back, “I have ovaries, why are you scared of that,” demonstrating that his masquerade as a woman is all about getting access to girls who would otherwise evade him.

The canny Sara spun it around, accusing him of lying when he promised they could have one or two children together. If he had ovaries, it was physically impossible for him to have viable sperm, she said. In the verbal tussle that followed, JJYS produced a receipt showing that he’s paying a sperm bank $300 a year to keep some of his wigglies frozen so that he can use IVF to conceive a genetic disaster like himself. Since he failed to have the sperm tested for viability before it was frozen, though, no JJYS-v.2 is guaranteed.

There’s no guarantee of GRS, either. His obesity makes putting him under general anesthesia risky, and his diabetes means surgical wounds will heal slowly. If his genetic mess is causing his bladder and rectal sphincters to fail, recovering from plastic surgery in his crotch is extra hazardous.

Some observers doubt he actually wants to lose the little peen he likes to play with constantly. To MandaPanda in 2019 he wrote that he was “Worried about my pussy … What if when they do it it’s ugly” instead of the “perfect coin slot pussy” he told Raygen in 2020 that he wants. Also to Raygen he admitted that he knows surgery won’t solve his key problem of being repulsive to people. “I just broke down into tears over anxiety regarding my surgery… I feel like no matter what I do people will never fully accept who I am… and it kills me.”

He may, in the end, settle for just flopping his moobs out when streaming (June, December) and ranting about transphobia.

If he is going to duck away from GRS, his province’s COVID-19 restrictions are helping him out. On Snapchat, he bemoaned British Columbia’s refusal to pay for GRS during the shutdown and, although he said he was willing to risk getting sick from the corona virus – a big risk for an obese male with diabetes – he can’t cover the cost of the surgery himself.

He may have to make the life-changing decision shortly. In November, Canada Post slid an envelope from Montréal into the wrong box at JJYS’s strata that revealed JJYS was scheduled for an appointment in January. JJYS spun the mislaid envelope into a crime, but found he had to recruit help online to put his lies before the RCMP.

Update: Jan 9, 2021: After this article went online, we learned that GRS is generally performed after administering a sedative and an epidural, not general anesthesia, to reduce the patient’s risk. Obesity, nonetheless, remains a hazard for GRS patients, which JJYS has acknowledged but not addressed.

He did manage one truthful statement: “… tell them Jessica isn’t well.”

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