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Wednesday, June 30, 2004
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"LOVE IS ALL AROUND ME/ COME ON AND LET IT SHOW"
sat-ire
1 a) A literary work in which human vice or folly is attacked through irony, derision, or wit.
b) The branch of literature constituting such works. See Synonyms at caricature
2. Irony, sarcasm, or caustic wit used to attack or expose folly, vice, or stupidity
From Dictionary.com
It appears that I made a mistake when I started blogging. That mistake was assuming that my readers were more intellectually developed than your average five year old. It seemed to be a reasonable assumption at the time. Computers are expensive and complicated. Blogs can be a bitch to build and maintain.Devolving a following for your blog should display at least some intellectual prowess. When I started, I honest to God only expected about 5 other people to read this. That might sound like false modesty, but really, it isn't. I knew those five people. They're all exceptionally sharp. So I wrote on that basis.
It was a much more innocent time, I suppose.
Between this blog and my last one, I've racked up about 15,000 hits in 13 months. That's not really impressive, I know. Some of the people I link to get that many every month. But if you told me in May of last year that I would be read by as many people in as many places as I have, I would've had you committed to a physciatric hospital. And then had you put through drug rehab when you were done there. I never thought my audience would expand beyond those five people. So, I never really went about building it like most people do. I didn't go hog wild touting myself in chat rooms or or go run around commenting on other sites, secretly hoping they'd link me. It just kind of happened on its own. I don't know how it happened, or why, but I'll forever be amazed that it did.
But for the most part, my readers are fairly bright folks. Most of them have their own blogs and the majority of those are far superior to this one. You should investigate that for yourself. You'll be glad you did. Most of my readers understand the word tht I posted the definition of under this post's headline. That's why I never had to post the definition before. Most people get it.
The one thing that I regret most is that there isn't a quality control meter available. Not for my writing, that'll almost always suck. For my readers. I wish there was an IQ meter for people before they were allowed to read this page. Some people get it, actually 99% do. It's the 1% that aggravates me. I wish that I could screen that 1%. I'd give up all the hits for that. Like I said, I originally wrote this for 5 people and, for all intents and purposes, I still do. If I were to only get 5 hits a day, I'd still hang a giant "Mission Accomplished" banner behind me. This may sound callous, but the rest of you are gravy. The greatest gravy I've ever tasted, gravy I'll always remember and appreciate, but gravy nonetheless.
So long as Sarah, Mike, Annie, Nicole and Travis remain happy with this site, I'm a happy boy. Now those five people know who they are. None of the rest of you do, but I suppose that you'll live.
If anything, my larger readership only encourages me to get more daring. I'm writing far crazier shit now than I did when I first started. There's precious little that I haven't made fun of in this space, and with one exception, I've never deleted single sentence based on who it might offend. As I said, most of you get it. I've never had to explain myself, and I have no intention of starting now.
I thought there would have been a far larger negative reaction to my Mary Kate Olsen/anorexia post than there actually was. I honestly expected most of my female readers to go NUTS when thy read it. The fact that they didn't made me proud of them. They got it. If I could, I'd permalink to that post every day.
Deep down, I kinda like negative comments from strangers. Particularly when they have the balls to put up links to their own blogs. I like to read about people who hate me. I could possibly learn more from them than I can the Amen Choir. Oftentimes, I'll click those links and do me some reading. Many of those blogs are pretty good, too.
What really, seriously annoys me is when people comment about my work on other people's blogs without having the courage to do it here. You've all seen some negative comments here. You'll all notice that I've never, to my memory, personally attacked those that have. Feel free to check my archives. I'm pretty sure they'll bear that out.
That changes today. I was going through my referrer links and finally found what I was going to post today. During my run, I found some interesting comments at Ecce Mulier. I've read the comments and checked the blogs out as a means of verifying the quality of my critics.
So, what I'm going to do today is criique my critics. Be warned, I intend to be as harsh with them as they've been with me. This probably won't be pretty. Keep in mind, those who question the integrity and quality of my work should be able to withstand the samescrutinyy. No matter what I say, I'm attacking their blogs...not necessarily them personally, unless and until that's what they put out to be critiqued. I'm not revealing or assailing anything that haven't put out for me to.
I used to know Nietzscheswife in a passing way from my days in Yahoo's Religion 1 chatroom. She has an incredible body and had nocompunctionn about showing it off (well, to be fair, that was one night, maybe a year and a half ago when I checked her cam. She was in a tiny little top and doing a lot of stretches. It was compelling viewing. Truth be told, I still remember it like it was yesterday.) Well, it turns out she used be anorexic. I can verify that it seemed to have worked for her.
A couple of people I'm close to have told me that she is batshit crazy. I kind of like that, but it's not a HUGE surprise. As you can tell by her name, she's a proponent of of the 18th century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche spent the final 11 years of his life in an insane asylum. In my personal experience, people who excessively devote their lives to Nietzsche are just as, if not more so, insane. But she does have a killer body.
This is what Nietzscheswife wrote on her blog. She, like I, is incapable of getting permalinks.
The other day I read somewhere that eating disorders made women sexier (NOTE: here she links back to my post.) As a former anorexic I know there is nothing sexy about them. Especially because anorexia is not the only sort of eating disorder.
So, does bulimia nervosa make a woman sexy too?
Never would I have imagined men found attractive a woman with these symptoms:
- Protein-calorie deficit
- Amenorrhea
- Loss of bone density
- Insomnia
- Anxiety
- Hair loss
- Skin dryness
- Muscular weakness
- Increasement of body hair, etc.
By the way, if men think women do it because they are looking forward to be liked and 'banged', they might be overestimating themselves. It is a way of control over certain situations which most likely have nothing to do with sex appeal. Anorexia allows control over something. Even when that something is just about as insignificant as weight.
Then there are these comments.
Does the claim "eating disorders are sexy" include compulsive overeaters? Why do I get the feeling this guy would bang a 600-pound gorilla with severe body odor and no teeth if it meant he would get laid? What a fucking moron.
Unfortunately, there are millions like him in the 'States. Part of the reason I am a dedicated celibate and spinster.
holly Hollyism: Taste A Piece of My Mind
Holly is exceptionally good looking. Physically, very much my type. Beautiful face. And, from what she's written on her blog, she's very intelligent with several varied interests. Unfortunately, like several overly smart people, she's humorless and condescending. Other than that, from the one page of her blog that I've read thus far, there isn't much to attack her on. Accordingly, I'll take her point. Besides, I've never claimed to be anything other than "a fucking moron."
I should note, however, that I haven't commented on the physical charcteristics of my sexual partners in a negative light, not ever. It's usually referred to as being a gentleman. This is something that Holly seems quite willing to do in her expectations of others. Interesting, huh?
Check out her page anyway. Her picture is really cute. To be fair, nothing in her comment indicates that she even read the post in question, just the review of it. Which could be telling in itself.
This one is different.
I think the 'guy', if it is indeed a guy, on that blog is being purposefully moronic, sarcastic and offensive. I'd hate to think that a man would still be walking uncastrated who really holds that viewpoint. I agree with you though, anorexia, as with many other compulsions and disorders is a method and means of feeling in control, when some other 'aspect' of life feels fucked up and out of control.
btw - the blogger's user name is 'skippy', doesn't that explain it all??? What dumbfuck would want a pseudonmy in the namesake of a fucken kangaroo?
error404 error404 Blog
Before I tear into error404, I would like to address what seems to be the central criticism of my little piece, other than their total lack of understanding of satire. This is as follows, "It is a way of control over certain situations which most likely have nothing to do with sex appeal. Anorexia allows control over something. Even when that something is just about as insignificant as weight."
This demostrates a complete misunderstanding of what they both seem to be so proud of, their "understanding."
Anorexia Nervosa is not a traditional medical disorder. It is a recognized physciatric condition. As such, there is no way of it "allowing control" over anything. If anything, mental illness prevents control over anything. It strikes me as odd that someone who freely admits that she has suffered from mental illness attempts to attribute some sort of rationality to that illness. Mental illness is, by its very definition, is that lack of rationality in one or more areas of its sufferers lives. Anyone in the process of recovering from a mental illness will be the first one to tell you that. Think about it, honey.
Error404 appears to have read my blog, at least a little of it. And I've read her's. Woweeeeee. I'm not sure that the Internet is BIG enough for what I have to say about this blog. The best way to describe my reading of her blog is quote her own posts.
and I thought...
What the fuck?
Firstly, though this is not a priority in her list of problems, she is biologically incapable of spelling the word "fucking." I have my problems with spelling, too. But Christ, with words I use THAT much, I go to the trouble of learning how to spell.
Secondly, everything she writes seems to be in the stanza styles of a poem. They might all be attempts at poetry, but it's hard to tell. I do know this though, Poetry is annoying. The most tragic thing about the deaths of famous poets is that they die after they become famous poets. Their deaths seem to spawn only more famous poets. This is, of course, mitigated by the fact the fact that famous poets tend to die young. It's the Circle of Life, Simba!
Thirdly, she's fucking insane. On Monday she wrote about a post about whether someone would know that they're mentally ill which demonstrates clear symptoms of mental illness.
Many people know when they suffer from depression.
They know the signs and symptoms, the feeling of being
in a bottomless pit of darkness and being unable to see
the light or reach the top. The feeling of being powerless,
where everything seems too fucken overwhelming to deal with
and out of control.
Yes, because depression is a cognitive disorder. People who suffer from it are well aware of it. I know just a little bit about this. Her problems are considerably different.
Detachment. I am not here. This is not happening. I am not
thinking this. I'm not feeling this. I don't think
or feel this. I'm an observer, standing on the outside
looking in through a fucked up, fogged up window.
This is a sign of Disassociation.
Tragically, error was once gang raped. I only bring this up due to something she wrote in her post of June 30 about it that tends to reinforce my point.
Sometimes...
Men I don't know are my rapists
sometimes
men I do know are my rapists.
Sweetheart, I hate to break this to you, but there are a very select group of people who are your rapists. Those are your rapists. I'm sure there are any number of people who are going to insane about my saying this, but any rape victim who assumes all men are rapists are further damaging themselves and, potentially others. Let's change the crime and the victim here, just to explore the line of thinking. Let's assume a father loses his son in a car accident involving, say a black driver. If that father declared in public that he viewed all blacks as potential murderers of children, he would be watched very closely and widely rebuked. Ordinarily, I wouldn't ever second guess the pain of a rape victim. My writing pretty fairly reflects my feelings about rape. But error's view seems to show a pattern unrelated to her rape. The "Men I Know/ Don't Know Are My Rapists" seems to be a pretty clear indication of a persecution delusion.
Then there's what appears to be a poem that is very diagnosticly helpful.
When I see you, you're just an image file comprised of a
mass of dot pixels and RGB colours.
Pretty
but flat...
When you move, you're just a video file. Panoramic,
streaming media, one image sliding into another.
Poser.
Animated human being.
Projecting yourself again....
When I hear you, you're just an audio file, an mp3,
recorded sounds, poor quality, crackling, hissing
distorted.
Stimulated
auditory receptors
composing something,
calling it music,
It's all just
background noise...
When I feel you...
When I feel,
that's the thing you see,
I don't feel you,
you're just a text file
a page of black-letter keystrokes
organised and sequenced
into block-words,
trying to make sense
of yourself
using unoriginal quotations
and badly punctuated lines.
I'm not going to download you
irrespective of how fucken big
or small
or important
you think you are.
I'm saving my bandwidth.
Virtually
or
realistically
this world
or
that world
it makes no difference
I don't need you
taking up precious storage space
in my memory.
Shift
right click
delete
in a matter of seconds
you're trashed
and
gone.
This may be a reference to one specific person or not. It's hard to tell. Even if it is about one specific person, it is a clear indicator or diassociation disorder. In the event that she means people in general, that's a bigger problem. That's a clear sign of sociopathy.
Relationships (for psychopaths) are things of the moment . . . their motto seem(s) to be "Out of sight, out of mind."
Adolph Guggenbuhl-Craig, The Emptied Soul.
And it gets worse. On June 26, she posted on the most private of tragedies, the overdose and apparent death wish of her own son.
I could try to stop him taking drugs at home,
I have tried to stop him taking drugs at home,
but he just goes out onto the field of the local High School
and takes them there instead,
and if he's gonna O.D. or die, I want it to be at home, not in some
fucken public High School playing field,
and how do you stop someone from doing something they actually
like to do?
From what I've read so far, her son seems to be only be a teenager. Most teenagers are a GIANT pain in the ass. But most parents try to prevent their teenager from dying as opposed to dictating where they actually do die. If anything, from the one page I've read, this woman's priorities are seriously fucked. And probably symptomatic of narcissim.
In reading less of a page of this woman's post, I've managed to find no fewer than FOUR indicators or mental illness.
Of course, I've only read one page of each of the above blogs. On the other hand, that's more than any of them appear to have read of mine.
UPDATE: THURSDAY JULY 1 I just got off the phone with Dr. Reverend. He knows that in trying times like these I need spiritual guidence. He consoles me in in my more desperate hours. I think the world would be a better place if everyone had a friend like him.
Anyway, he was concerned for me. The conversation started something like this, "skippy, what the fuck has happened to you? You weren't NEARLY hard enough on those bitches. You gettin' soft, boy? You turning homo?"
I explained that I really only intended to comment of what the bloggers in question put up and critque that. Going any further than that would be untoward and certainly ungentlemanly. I reminded him that I'm nothing if not a gentleman. I also mentioned to him that I recieved a very ice e-mail from Holly, and that our differences have been resolved. She had misinterpeted my thoughts on the manner. I further told him that my problems with them aren't personal in any way. I also pointed out again just how hot Neitzscheswife and Holly are. I thought it was a nice compliment. Most women are flattered when I mention that I want to turn them into my personal Charlie McCarthy. But this was neither the time or place to detail just how I acquired my reputation as a ladies man.
The Doctor reminded me at that point that now that he has all the money, he could easily have them killed. I then noted that that was unnesscary. He then muttered something about my being "a fag" and hung up on me. His work was done.
I'm having a very special Canada Day.
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