Stalking [Dan Collins]
Among the more interesting things that I learned yesterday and today is that linking to someone’s information and expressing some of the things that make that person interesting can be considered stalking. Of course, if that person is Malkin, and it’s all about teh hate, that’s excusable, because if something were to happen to Malkin, then that would be deserved.
I’ve also learned that taking an interest in an ex, especially after the statute of limitations–i.e., expressing the vile admiration that men award to women–can mean one thing and one thing only: that one pines for that person’s pussy, but won’t admit it, even though it’s vile to address someone as a sexual being, even if it’s a very substantial, a prominent component of this or her personality. It’s unacceptable, that is, to mention her breasts, for example; if one does, in a nostalgic way, appreciatively, it’s terrible, unless it means that you have carried a torch for that woman for 23 years. Because according to the wimmens, the only basis for thinking back fondly upon a person you haven’t seen in twenty-something years, is that you are still pathetically in love with them, and miss their pussy, and mean to say that she was a great lay. Except that that’s repugnant, unless they say it for you.
People care so much for other people’s privacy that, in order to protect it, they’ll spread links to that person’s information, and interpret what somebody’s written as an invitation to rape. A post that thus was left in the dust with 13 comments, is suddenly read by hundreds, who are appalled, aghast, at the invasion of someone’s privacy. That that information was publicly available makes no difference. Your explanations of your motives don’t at all matter, because it’s convenient for these people to interpret things in the worst possible light as an opportunity to express their ethical superiority to you and everything you represent. They take no pleasure in expressing their outrage, of course.
Actual incidents involving threats, such as those made by Larry Johnson against Seixon really don’t matter, even though they’re overtly meant to be threats. Larry Johnson still attracts his audience; he’s still a credible figure on the left. What I’ve done is so unforgivable that Jon Swift is waving my balls around his head like a bolo. When I point this out, I am special pleading.
The fact is, such people understand the motivation of hatred much better than they do anything else. If I reference something that’s embarassing to someone, that must be because I hate that person, because that person wounded me psychically and I’m acquiring my revenge. By obscurely blogging about it at a time when I have a very limited readership, I am clearly seeking to damage that person as much as possible. The complimentary things that I state, despite their being complimentary on their face, disguise an aggressive subtext.
One who does so, and those who speak up in that person’s defense, are, despite their disgusting expression of heterosexuality, closeted homosexuals just like all Rethuglicans. Unless they’re Ann Coulter, in which they’re a tranny. If they band together, they want to blow each other. And calling them gay is only insulting because, you know, they’re homophobic. It would, of course, be ridiculous to ascribe any homophobia to the way that we express our disgust in their closeted homosexuality. The fags.
So, do your worst, people; because you have richly deserved the contempt in which I hold you.