More nonsensical posturing out of the pinkshirted brigade, as an aspiring SF writer tries his hand at amateur psychiatry. Delusion ensues.
Damien Walter @damiengwalter
Reading VDs blog now is like watching a schizophrenic muttering persecution delusions in a cell smeared with their own faeces.Damien Walter @damiengwalter
Holy crap. Vox Day seems to be entering the catastrophic break phase of his psychotic meltdown after the Nebula awards. Sad to observe.Joyce Chng (JDamask) @jolantru
@damiengwalter Ewww.SFReviews.net/SFF180 @SFReviewsnet
@damiengwalter Let me guess. He’s lost what’s left of his mind because all the fiction winners were women?Damien Walter @damiengwalter
@SFReviewsnet Yep. And keeps whinging about how “amusing” it is and how he isn’t at all obsessed with the issue.SFReviews.net/SFF180 @SFReviewsnet
@damiengwalter Very odd defense mechanism. “Your ongoing success and professional esteem *amuses* me. My lack of same = superiority.” Okaay.Damien Walter @damiengwalter
@SFReviewsnet VD is a borderline personality. They hook on to people / communities for attention because of deep rooted fear issues.
Now, keep in mind that these claims of obsession are coming from people who write about me on a regular basis, and who openly fantasize about wanting to harm me. Just to give one example:
Den Patrick @Den_Patrick
Weird night of discussions, mainly how I want to hurt politicians and Vox Day. Booze may have been involved. Offering no apologies.
I didn’t create these people. I didn’t invent them. I have done nothing more than respond to their repeated attacks by describing them accurately and that was sufficient to set them off. It is readily observable that most of them are uninteresting writers with nothing to say that anyone outside their weird little cocoon wants to read, and one need not see their pictures to confirm that they are lonely social failures rejected by the sane and the attractive. They hate me beyond all others, I think, because they know I see them for what they are. Note that the claims of “borderline personality”, “deep rooted fear issues”, and “psychotic meltdown” are being made by an individual who described himself in the following manner:
I was 30 and, by any measure, deeply unhappy. I’d been pushing down a
lot of horrible emotions from a damaging childhood, grief from many
losses, and had trapped myself in a life I didn’t fit in to from a
desperate need to fit somewhere, anywhere…. I was miserable, and in trying to escape from the causes of the misery
I’d driven myself, repeatedly, to the borders of emotional collapse
where I had, at long last, collapsed.
Just as the darkness cannot comprehend the light, the mentally diseased and dysfunctional cannot understand the healthy and fully functional. They interpret every action, every statement, through their own cracked and crippled perspective. John C. Wright described them well in his final essay in TRANSHUMAN OR SUBHUMAN, “Restless Heart of Darkness”:
Despair is the key. It explains nearly everything that is so puzzling about the madness of modern life, the pack of self-contradictory dogmas that make up the default assumptions of the Dark Ages in which we live.
They have nothing else. No wonder they are bitter. No wonder they are irrational. No wonder they lie like dogs. No wonder they boast. No wonder they are full of envy and malice. No wonder they kill babies in the womb and fete socialist dictators and mass murderers. No wonder they love death. No wonder they admire, protect and love Islamic terrorists. No wonder they admire, protect, and love sexual perversion.
It is because they have nothing else. They live in a world of darkness, without hope, with nothing but their seven great friends to sustain them: pride, which they call self-esteem; envy, which they call social justice; wrath, which they call activism and protest; sloth, which they call enlightenment; gluttony, which they call health food and legalization of recreational drugs; greed, which they call fairness in taxation; lust, which they call sexual liberation.
The modern age is suffering from spiritual and philosophical starvation in the midst of what should be the greatest feast of mind and spirit imaginable. Someone has told them offal was food and food was poison, and so they gnaw on foul things which cannot satisfy them, which make their hungers grow. They are dying of thirst, and someone offers them seawater to drink.
Let us now and forever eschew anger and indignation at these creatures. They are blind kittens who cling and claw and scratch at the hand that come to feed and comfort. No man should be angered at a blind scratch.
Neither should we do them the honor of assuming theirs is a philosophy, political or otherwise, or a coherent worldview, or anything that can be discussed or debated. It is a dream, a delirium, a vision, a nightmare.
There is no point in correcting their ludicrous lies or attempting to show them the obvious illogic in their statements. They are lost to madness and until they abandon their prideful despair of their own accord, there is literally nothing that anyone, least of all me, can do for them. They cannot imagine my amusement at their abysmal creations and their impotent rage because they cannot imagine either sanity or a sense of humor that is not based on a fleeting sense of superiority.