So, do tell me, spammers: what does hair style info have to do with premium hotel rooms? Or, for that matter, what does replacing windows have to do with cosmetic hair removal info? Or…oh, never mind. I realize you’ve not got a clue. I just find a quick content check what the spam filters siphon off the server to be hilariously ludicrous.
Want a funny? Most neo-conservative women buy Harlequin slurpy, wet panty pulp “romances”, not high quality books, despite all the “family values” rhetoric that spews forth from their brazen mouths. Similarly, neo-conservative men are the most avid, if furtive, consumers of porn.
A friend of mine has been coerced into abandoning his honor, virtue, and principles. He’s being coerced by vindictiveness, a vindictiveness which was catalyzed by my refusal to continue working with someone who persistently acted out irresponsibly, with petulance, then with violence and viciousness when she didn’t get her way.
Assailed by family on all sides, he stood his ground pretty well…until the stupidity of psychiatry’s answer to the problem after several “suicide chump”* incidents pushed things to the brink. And psychiatry’s answer? To put a band-aide on a festering wound rather than expose the puss and necrosis. Pyschiatry made him buckle, and, finally, made him doubt himself so that he began living the lie everyone wanted him to buy.
I find psychiatrists and counselors who suggest that compromising self simply to mollify a situation without actually addressing the real problem to be abusive and corrupt. They create more problems by their insistence that everyone adjust to the sick. They prescribe modifying the healthy because they can’t modify the sick. In fact, they’re schooled to do just that. Reasoning? The deranged are incapable of successful treatment without their consent and cooperation which they will not give, therefore take the balanced individual and adjust their behavior to compensate, even if that action completely destroys their internal integrity. In short, do anything to avoid sending the deranged into an existential crisis; instead, coerce the healthy into complying with the demands of the lunatic.
It’s criminal, in my opinion.
The results?
The psychotic’s behavior is rewarded because “they get their way”, which was their intent all along, which further reinforces that behavior. Meanwhile, everyone else becomes the continuing victim of the psychotic’s selfish goals and needs.
Sad.
——–
* A “suicide chump” is someone who pretends to want to commit suicide and acts so just enough to scare others into believing they will, even though they have no real intention of committing that self-destructive act. Everyone then pays attention to them and works with them to succor their “needs”–demands and desires. In short, they manipulate to try to get attention and to get their way by using threats of self-destruction.
The answer to a suicide chump is to call their bluff, catch them in the act, and dump them and the evidence of their suicide attempt into the state hospital for the mentally ill. Of course, the suicide chump never really means to harm themselves, though sometimes they slip up because they miscalculate. What they want, though, isn’t death (in fact, not death, at all); they just want others to bend to their will.
———–
Suicide Chump, Frank Zappa
You say there ain’t no use in livin’
It’s all a waste of time
‘N you wanna throw your life away, well
People that’s just fine
Go ahead on ‘n get it over with then
Find you a bridge ‘n take a jump
Just make sure you do it right the first time
‘Cause nothin’s worse than a Suicide Chump
You say there ain’t no light a-shinin’
Through the bushes up ahead
‘N we’re all gonna be so sorry
When we find out you are dead
Go head on and get it over with then
Find you a bridge ‘n take a jump
Just make sure you do it right the first time
‘Cause nothin’s worse than a Suicide Chump
Now maybe you’re scared of jumpin’
‘N poison makes you sick
‘N you want a little attention
‘N you need it pretty quick…
When guessing correctly exactly what is and what isn’t yields the suspect accusing another of divulging the secrets, guilt is demonstrated.
We have, in our lifeway, a commitment to openness and honesty. Underhanded, less-than-forthright actions and intent by others often comes to our attention, not by word-of-mouth, but by acuity. When that behavior is implicated, we’ll broach it, suggesting to the suspected the possibility in a way designed to expose the culpability, and we do it openly, in a forthright manner.
Bingo.
In a pertinent and particular circumstance, the guilty, having received the direct question of intent, immediately chided another party, accusing that party of speaking “private things” to another…which, supposedly, in turn, came to our ears. Of course, it wasn’t true. The person accused of loose lips with whom the guilty was collaborating hadn’t spoken to another and nothing had, in fact, reached anyone’s ears. The suspect’s accusation, on the other hand, did stir waters, the hurt feelings of the innocents driving them to verify their honor and their innocence to one and all.
The fact of the accusation proved the guilt and less-than-honorable actions and intents of the suspect by his own mouth leveling accusations on the innocent parties. Guilt will do that, you know. It makes the culpable blame innocent others as they desperately try to cover their self-exposed tracks. (Mold and mildew hate sunshine and fresh air and desperately flee from it.)
Beware you who hold guilt within your mind and heart. Truth comes forth regardless, and accusing others of exposing your culpability often leads to you unveiling yourself to one and all.
I just love it when contacts I make and develop through friends and family connections are assumed by my husband’s associates to be theirs exclusively to take credit for and cultivate, treating my husband as if he’s some sort of second class entity. Shame on YOU.
There’s a woman — a missionary, no less — who absolutely insists that we all sit up and pay attention to her every post, her every new self-promotional effort. I’d can the feed if I could, but I can’t because there are good things happening in the group and there are good people in it. But every time I get another notification with this woman’s name on it, I just get this indescribable urge to hunt her down and stuff all her spam-bytes back down her throat. It’s bad of me, I know, but, gawd, some folks just have no manners whatsoever. Problem is, despite the misery she causes with her bloated self-infatuation, all these “nice” people fawn all over themselves telling her how she just floors them with her energy. It ain’t the energy that’s flooring them, tell the truth, though. It’s the audacity! She’s a missionary, remember, guys? So she can handle the truth, right? (Yeah, yeah, we know she can’t, but, hey, tough, I say.) So, guys and gals, quit your fawning and tell it like it is. Tell her to shut the f— up if she ain’t got something other than her own horn to blow!
Is it something in the water? Are there really that many folks out there in the real world who have nothing better to do with their lives than “tweet” on Twitter or send instant messages, text messages (cell phones) and generally blather and blah? How in the world do you concentrate on “doing” if all you do is blather? Productive get-togethers are one thing, but this “social networking” is for what? To try to win folks over to partake of your…what? Seems to me it’s just another way to make mouth noise just because. It’s the lonely hearts club trying to find friendship and love…or something. Who knows. What I know is that it’s human white-noise, and I have no use for human white noise. It’s a waste of time and life. Go DO SOMETHING!!!
I sit outside at morning twilight and listen to a thousand raindrops. It’s quiet, except for the raindrops…and the wind (I think). But, wait, there is no wind, no movement in the treetops. Is it, then, the lake, its waves? No. That underlying roar is raindrops hitting a thousand roofs. One thousand raindrops each upon a thousand rooftops while humans mostly sleep. Good morning.
I’m trying to reopen The Deepening, not as an online fiction magazine, but as a stimulating place to discover the joys of reading fiction. I have a category called Peek Behind the Scenes which is supposed to give a look into the creative minds responsible for the stories. Unfortunately, nothing much comes up in the way of “interesting” when it comes to many writers. Most writers are REALLY BORING. A look at their forums and their blogs will confirm this if you doubt me.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know authors who ARE exciting people. Their minds are constantly abuzz with what-ifs, they are forever rolling out new ideas, playing with possibilities, toying with potentials. A few. Some really good ones, too. But the majority? Omigod. Dry, boring, awful. The only thing coming out of their fingers when it isn’t fiction is their medical history, their love life, and their daily routines from brushing their teeth to their craving for adulation and praise (“Pweez, pweez, wuv my stories and gimme lotz and lotz of muny.”)
I’m sorry, but if the best thing an author has to offer as insight is some sappy, giddiness about how much they totally adore the false flattery given them by some reviewer they paid, or, worse, some whiny moan about how hard it is to get published, nobody cares, especially me. What I want to hear is how they conceive their worlds, what generates an idea to form itself into a plot, what drives them to create characters and how they make them so real that their readers want to know more and more about those characters.
What drives the ideas? What music, sounds, visions, happenings? What happens inside them to make such magic happen with words (if what they do is any good, that is…which, for the majority who call themselves writers, isn’t)?
What do I see and hear from writers, though?
“I’ve got an adorable baby, a husband, a cat, and a dog. I live in Anytown, AnyCountry. I want to be rich and famous someday. I love my new patio, and my favorite color is red.”
OR
“I’m simply the most marvelous thing since chocolate syrup. You really will love my new book called Sonya’s Sunshine Dream and you need to buy a copy over at BlankDotCom where all my books are published by DumbSap Publishing.”
OR
“Those rotten publishers and agents won’t even look at my book. They didn’t even have the courtesy to respond to my query until over six months after I sent it in. And then they said no. I mean, sure their guidelines say ninety days, but I’m special….”
Um…get a life?
Of course, artists aren’t much better, and neither are muscians, but, right now, I’m ranting on writers because it seems to me that I should be able to look somebody up and they should have more in their bio and on their blog than “I’m married and have two kids…,” ”My eczema is better,” ”I just finished tidying up my closet…,” or “I just got rejected again….”
Nobody cares. Really. Give us some insights into what catalyzes your creativity, what excites you, what makes you write a pulse-pounding story. Else, hang it up. Don’t say anything. That would do you less harm.
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