On Egomaniacs And Assholes (transferred from Fetlife)

The below was transferred from Fetlife, my writings, on my profile.  It is an original writing composed by me.

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On Egomaniacs And Assholes

Finally said something to a complete asshole that has been trailing a friend here on fetlife, messing with he whenever he gets the chance. After banning her from a group he mods by choosing that point to strictly apply rules he ignored before and after, he sent her a series of abusive PMs, then finished off with a pompous “don’t PM me except for official reasons” PM so as to be able to go run behind his Mommy’s skirt if she responded to his demonstration of how to be a shit-ass.

The one part that she did let bother her is below. Thought I’d offer a breakdown and translation. In full, it reads:

“Get over yourself already. You’re not smart, you’re not interesting, you’re not attractive. I wouldn’t be stalking someone like you if you paid me.”

I’ll start with the fundamentals. I’ve watched him and refused to respond for quite some time now. His primary method of correspondence with virtually everyone on fetlife is to tell them how wrong they are and prove it by giving his version of things. Thus the “proof” of their error is, in the end, because he says so. It makes the sensible person question just exactly why he works so hard to get others to see how right he is if he really does already know he’s always so right. Any, in consideration of my friend who he banned, then tore down in PM, then sanctimoniously stuck his nose in the air above and walked away from, I offer the following breakdown of the part that it seems bothered her the most.

Get over yourself already

Him: I can’t stand thinking about me so we gotta get the focus back on you, so here’s a dismissive phrase that makes me feel like a big man.
Me: Ironic, isn’t it? An egomaniac telling someone who consistently and fairly constantly puts other people first to “get over themself.” Three fingers point back, pal.

You’re not smart

Him: I’ve proved time and again how much smarter I am than you are, than everybody is, as a matter of fact.
Me: Nobody with any sense believes that your uber-parcing of selected phrases so you can make what you claim to be an error in one of the parcels appear to prove your superiority really makes you smarter. The few who do believe it are as sad as you are.

You’re not interesting

Me: see above under “you’re not smart” and replace smart with interesting. Same deal, same rationale, he’s merely picked another characteristic to pile onto the first one.

You’re not attractive

Me: see above under “you’re not smart” and replace smart with attractive. Same deal, same rationale, he’s merely picked a third characteristic to pile onto the first one.

See Note (1) below

I wouldn’t be stalking someone like you if you paid me.

Me: “Stalking” is the one thing among all she’s said to him that the caretakers and operators of the site would possibly intervene in that would result in more than a wrist slap limited to one post or one group. Ergo, he addresses it, and again, like a schoolboy in elementary (or primary) school, he gives the equivalent of “nu uh, I didn’t do it, I would never do that” as his defense and his egotism demands that he be believed. He is, after all, the last word on anything he gives the last word on, and to be sure of that, after his last word, he attempted to forbid her from responding by glomming onto an internet principle that is fairly universally accepted – unwanted private communication after warning it’s unwanted.

Well, here are some facts about the matter.

She IS smart. I’ve spent enough time on the net dealing with her on an equal one for one basis that there is no question there. I’m not saying I’m some brainy guy, but given that I’m a guy who took a high school education and ended up operating nuclear reactors in the most successful nuclear power program in the world, I think my identification of someone as “smart” is valid enough to consider.

She IS interesting. One of the more interesting people I’ve ever met. There are facets to her overall character that would appear to be contradictory, if one saw them in two people, but when melded in her, they somehow compliment each other. She can be as hedonistic as hell (which is an expression of “me first” at it’s roots, honestly, and that can be ok), then turn around and go stay with a friend to help her recover from eye surgery. Interestingly, the same friend is the lady whose existence this egotistical asshole orignially dismissed, then tried to rationalize around so that this lady didn’t matter as though she didn’t exist.

She IS attractive. The exterior speaks for itself. Holy hell, THAT looks damn good. The interior is equally attractive. Empathetic; funny; never takes herself too seriously; caring; puts others first so routinely that it’s not a matter of thinking about it, it’s just natural; honest as a matter of course, not as a matter of having to try to be… oh yeah, she’s damned attractive, inside and out.

He does stalk her, but he’s not an unintelligent person. He only stalks her in places where he enjoys either the power of being a mod or the power of having a large posse of supporters. He never stalks her in a place where they would be seen as equals. I’ve watched it and watched it and watched it and it finally got under my skin enough to say something to him about it. However, the point of this note is the lie he told my friend to make himself feel superior again.

I am not suggesting you should blindly believe any of this because I said it. That would be flattering, but the truth is, if you hang around my writings and postings and activity enough, you’ll see how my friend is, and how wrong the idiot is and how much nobody should EVER put him in a position of power or authority again, and you’ll see all of that for yourself.

G

Well, Here We Go

I just basically set Fetlife on a shelf. I feel for John Baku and his crew, as they attempt to deal with the craziness of 90% fairly normal kinky people, and 10% complete attention whores and/or loons.

I frankly started to write a lot about the 10%, but frankly, they are not worth that much time. I’ll summarize. They have picked some topic that, considered alone, is a worthwhile topic. Examples include plagiarism, copyright violations, and sex with minors. Each one is evil, with varying degrees of evilness if estimated by their impact on society. That’s pretty much where the good stops. Using a nearly universal battle cry that is some variant of “if it saves just one ______________ from happening, it’s all worth it” they march forward on their version of the crusades. How sad that they combine the errant principle that the ends justify the means with a pity party for themselves, and connect that vile combination to an honorable pursuit.

Ergo, what I might have written there, I will write here. If there are pics to post, I will post them here. There will be links to each of these things there, because that is a community that I am at least a tiny part of, and I wish my community mates to have access, but I will not allow grown ups acting like 5th graders playing cops and robbers to have any sort of sway over what I write or display.

Be well, love, smile, and prosper,

G

Well Hello There

I’ve been inactive recently because I’ve been learning so much that I believe my mind has stretch marks. 

I wanted to make this a writing blog.  I was certain when I turned that direction that here was pretty much the only place I was likely to be published.  However, I find that is not completely true.  One gentleman kicked the door open a little for me, and time and new acquaintances have shown me that it’s open farther than I thought. 

 

Ergo, I removed the Kansas story, believing at first that it would be my first novel… after I added a considerable amount.  It turns out that 20K words do not a novel make.  Now, I am not sure that I will try to rewrite it for that purpose, at least not at first.

So, my absence here has been occupied with gathering writing tips, advice, contacts, and other assorted necessities for my brain to fully grasp what I believe is before me. 

In the meantime, a few links to interesting places…

Molly, my sister from different parents, has totally redone her website.  You should go look.  See the link over there to the right?  Molly’s Daily Kiss.  Yes, that’s it.  Go.  You’ll like it.  Go on, it won’t bite…

A new Twitter acquaintance, @DianeAlberts, (http://www.dianealberts.com) has just released a book, Try Me.  It’s available on Amazon.  Buy one, and you get 25 chances at a free Kindle or Nook, IF the book breaks the top 100 by July 4.  It’s headed that way, and with enough support, it should make it.  I highly advise going over there and getting one.  It is NOT expensive.  lInk: amzn.to/Ll60Ki

Are you a writer?  You cannot afford to miss the editor tips provided every evening at 6PM US Central time on Twitter by @smoulderingsea.  They are posted on his website, http://kowloonbynight.com/, later each evening.  Do NOT miss these if you hope to be published other than by self publishing.  Frankly, half of them are essential even if you self publish.

Finally, a public thank you to @Cassandra_Carr, who has been very helpful and open to a virtual stranger, me.  Her website is http://booksbycassandracarr.com/ where you will find links to some pretty damn hot erotic romance.  Her latest release is listed there, as well as the fact that her book Impact was the May book of the month at BDSM Book Reviews (bit.ly/KTtn0C).  Congratulations, Cassandra!

More, later, and when depends on whether I can get to the internet from way back in the country for the fourth of July.

Take care,

G

You May Not Like Me After This

I think this blogger got it right, frankly. http://wp.me/p2h2TD-G

The Depth Of Your Darkness

Moved to the Verse tab (https://gearjammers.wordpress.com/verse/) under the same title (https://gearjammers.wordpress.com/verse/the-depth-of-your-darkness/)

Thanks for stopping by,

G

Rant 1 – 05 May 12

I just saw something on the net; where I saw it is of no consequence. It was a saying, one of those series of a few words that are supposed to contain paragraphs of truth. It was a rather simple one:

Feminism is the radical notion that women are people.

No, it’s not.

Common decency is the notion that women are people.

If the “feminism” that is being defined here is the activist, visible, operational version of “feminism” then THAT feminism is the radical notion that women deserve a huge amount of revenge because a hell of a lot of men showed no common decency for a damned long time.

It’s really that simple, but it doesn’t cause the waves that the original statement does. It’s kind of calming, not inflaming, and therefore, it has little value to the activist who needs attention to feel useful.

Those of you who know me know that I am not an unreasonable person. Ergo, if I am going to rant against the mistreatment of women, when it is bona fide mistreatment (and I am), and then I fail to rant against the mistreatment of the recovery from the original mistreatment of women, I would be a hypocrite. I’m human, but I try hard to avoid being a hypocrite.

I Left Living Long Ago

I Left Living Long Ago

Well, I talked like it was going to take me a while to find the lyrics I wrote on the train that day, but I found them right away.  Sometimes you just get lucky.

Posted now, first page in Train Times.

Thank you all for looking…

G

New Writing Category

Train Times.  It’s the new tab.  It will contain musings and whatever other writings that happen to hit me because of what I see or hear on the train on my commute.  It might be very docile, or it might well be outrageous.  Only time will tell.

The first entry will be song lyrics I wrote a while ago on the way home, as soon as I find what the heck I did with them.

G

Thank You

Thank you to lillirose and nikisfantasy for stepping up on the last post.  I appreciate you taking your time to give me a hand. 

G

Will You Help?

A good friend of mine has been taking writing classes in college.  She tells me that her paragraphs usually need to have 10 to 12 sentences to be considered paragraphs.  I find that odd.

I find that odd first because you’ll pretty much never see a newspaper story written like that.  I grant that newspaper stories are perhaps not the bastion of correctness on that point.  However, I’m pretty sure that they are the most written kind of story, and that should count for something.

I find that odd, also, because my English teachers pounded into me a principle that I now recognize as good sense: Change thoughts, change paragraphs.  Even taking the next step in the thought process dictated a change in paragraph.  Additionally, if an average reader might lose track of what you’re saying in a longer paragraph, break it down so their eyes can help their brain sort it out.

Therefore, I ask you, my loyal readers, all 3 or 4 of you, which of the below do you find easier to read and follow?

I will appreciate all comments on the subject.

Thank you,

G

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No more gardens.  Well, no more that produced anything.  He had one, but it hadn’t produced anything at all for years and years.  He kept it cared for out of a sense of obligation.  There was a place deep inside him that knew: no more gardens, not real gardens anyway.  He had one for a couple of years, a couple of years back.  When he found out that someone else had been taking all the produce out of it for a few months, he gave it up.  Then there was one he tried to keep at long distance by telling someone how to care for it.  He got a little produce from it, but it wasn’t long before life got too complicated, and he passed that garden on to someone who could tend it.  Then, he thought he might get another garden, a fine looking garden, one that he knew produced extremely well.  He was sad when the owner that was perhaps not going to keep it anymore turned his behavior around and kept it.  Looking back, he realized that one may have been biting off more than he could chew.

Then there was the last one.  He knew it was not a garden he could keep for a long time.  It was a young garden and it held all the promise of good earth and discovering what grew best in it.  He was an old man, or at least, he was old as compared to the garden.  Still, he felt that he’d kept this garden the best, leaving aside the early years of the first one, the one he’d had for so long.  That first one sort of didn’t count, because while he put far more effort in back then, he knew so much more now.  This last one, however, was gone now, too.  Gone to a young fellow who, he had to admit, had the energy and stamina and… well, “natural force” was a term the old people had used when he was a boy.  It fit the young fellow.  The young fellow’s natural force was strong, and frankly, the old man knew he didn’t have much of one anymore.  He’d tried to get his back when he took on that last garden, but it only worked slightly.

“That last garden…” The word “last” rang in his ears all the way to the front porch.  It pounded in his head as he sat in the old rocker that was one of the few things he was able to save from the house he grew up in.  He watched as the world went by in front of him, and all he could hear was “last” until he slept.

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No more gardens. Well, no more that produced anything. He had one, but it hadn’t produced anything at all for years and years. He kept it cared for out of a sense of obligation. There was a place deep inside him that knew: no more gardens, not real gardens anyway.

He had one for a couple of years, a couple of years back. When he found out that someone else had been taking all the produce out of it for a few months, he gave it up.

Then there was one he tried to keep at long distance by telling someone how to care for it. He got a little produce from it, but it wasn’t long before life got too complicated, and he passed that garden on to someone who could tend it.

Then, he thought he might get another garden, a fine looking garden, one that he knew produced extremely well. He was sad when the owner that was perhaps not going to keep it anymore turned his behavior around and kept it. Looking back, he realized that one may have been biting off more than he could chew.

Then there was the last one. He knew it was not a garden he could keep for a long time. It was a young garden and it held all the promise of good earth and discovering what grew best in it. He was an old man, or at least, he was old as compared to the garden. Still, he felt that he’d kept this garden the best, leaving aside the early years of the one he’d had for so long. That one sort of didn’t count, because while he put far more effort in back then, he knew so much more now.

The last one, however, was gone now, too. Gone to a young fellow who, he had to admit, had the energy and stamina and… well, “natural force” was a term the old people had used when he was a boy. It fit the young fellow. The young fellow’s natural force was strong, and frankly, the old man knew he didn’t have much of one anymore. He’d tried to get his back when he took on that last garden, but it only worked slightly.

“That last garden…” The word “last” rang in his ears all the way to the front porch. It pounded in his head as he sat in the old rocker that was one of the few things he was able to save from the house he grew up in. He watched as the world went by in front of him, and all he could hear was “last” until he slept.
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