Among the insane again

There’s this crazy bitch from Michigan calling herself Sunshine Mary, whose blog I used to follow until she put it behind a password wall. This alone is a strike against Sunshine Mary to my way of thinking; as a bachelor’s-level historian (grab a barf baf if you must), I generally find it quite objectionable to disappear material from the public domain into the Memory Hole or an Index. Anyway, I don’t figure that Sunshine Mary will ever deem me worthy of a set of, shall we say, Duplicate Keys to her kingdom (no, I did not miscapitalize that), and I hadn’t given her any thought for some time until I came across this piece by Matt Forney about her being a brazen catfish with borderline personality disorder. Forney leaned towards clinical narcissism more than any other explanation, but without discarding other personality disorders. My guess is that BPD is more likely, on account of Sunshine Mary’s overt craziness, as manifested not only in the batshit of her writing but also in her stalker-like behavior towards online enemies; the clinically antisocial and narcissistic are usually saner and more calculating than that. This woman went so far as to report an online adversary she had apparently never met to child protective services.

Again, I can’t excerpt any of her writing since it’s password-protected now and I never copied any of it before she indexed it, but I vividly recall a tone of Fifty Shades of Christian Wifery, including tendentious exhortations to wives to submit to their husbands and orgasmic discussions of the antidepressant properties of semen (but only in the confines of holy matrimony! Don’t be sluts, ladies!). All in all, it was entertaining in kind of the way that Wesley Willis is entertaining, but less wholesome. Ironically, Willis has gone on to his reward and Sunshine Mary’s pilgrim journey continues, but he remains much more among us in spirit because no one has deep-sixed his deep tracks. Rock over London; rock on, Chicago! I’m not sure I transcribed that correctly, but damned if I’m looking it up at 2:30 am. Put that on your Wheaties.

What particularly interests me about Forney’s write-up isn’t the multiparty manosphere bum fight he describes in gory detail but Sunshine Mary’s bizarre catfishing campaign to make herself look at once more domestically virtuous and more affluent than she actually is. She sounds like an incorrigible social climber. That she claimed to live in a nice part of Ann Arbor while actually living in the much poorer city of Ypsilanti may be embarrassing, but what I find far more damning is that she misrepresented her husband, a cardiology department RN in real life, as an MD on her blog. That is exactly the attitude that perennially ruins both nursing and medicine in countries with serious class problems. It’s absolutely fucking pathetic. Hubby’s current and past salaries are a matter of public record because he works for the University of Michigan hospital system, and the most recent disclosure shows him making over $90k, not a hard-knocks existence if you budget decently. The money probably goes farther in Ypsilanti than in Ann Arbor, if Forney is right about the local socioeconomics.

That’s probably part of the problem in Sunshine Mary’s eyes. She wants someone more successful and prestigious than a mere nurse as her husband, to wit, a doctor who enjoys the finer things in life, neighborhoods and school systems included. Unless her husband is a horrible dingbat or pest on the cardiology floor, I pity him for being married to such a crazy social climber; no one who works in a hospital and is fit for duty deserves that.

There’s another embarrassing element of Sunshine Mary’s catfishing, having to do with the size of her family. In real life, she has two daughters; on the internet, she has five. At first glance this may seem to contradict the social climbing behind her other lies, but psychosexually, it makes perfect sense for someone tits-deep in the noisier ends of the Christian breeder marriage movement. This fantasy of great fecundity allows her to imagine herself all the more submissive to her husband’s rawdog dick emergencies and to the demands of childrearing. When she returns from journeys to the Land of Make-Believe, she’s faced with a brood that isn’t tying her down as much as she likes, and a husband who won’t tie her down in any sense because he’s a terrible philanderer. Or something like that.

This makes a certain sense in the context of the lunatic fringes of the breeder movement, especially the natural family planning crowd, which recurrently lashes out at anyone within reach in an attempt to deal with its own chronic sexual repression. It’s probably baffling to mainstream people who have never been around any of these extremists, including non-ideological breeders. Ideological breeders are effectively a separate, alien society from the mainstream. Sunshine Mary pretends to be less mainstream than she is in a campaign to curry favor with crazy zealots. It’s deranged, but that’s the niche she’s chosen to exploit.

*****

And there are even crazier nooks and crannies in the manosphere. The MGTOW frontier may not be one that you want to explore; I certainly find it pretty off-putting. Once I noticed that both of the blogs High Arka referenced in that article, Anti-Feminist Tech and Omega Virgin Revolt, have menacing black backgrounds, I realized that the publishers are running a mindfuck on their readers and that neither of those sites ought to be taken seriously. Of course, they’re designed to be taken seriously by men who are desperately adrift. They’re probably coordinated psy-ops, not freelance venting.

I had a weird sort of meta experience when I commented on the High Arka post in the link above. I made some comments about deep state sock puppetry and the unnerving effect of the black backgrounds, and a few hours later someone showed up under the handle of “Judge Roy Bean” to flame me as an incoherent, ridiculous “Captain Tryhard.” This was exactly the sort of provocative, off-topic red herring I’d expect from a deep state or corporate sock puppet. Maybe Occam’s Razor points towards an amateur internet troll, but I have trouble imagining an amateur troll spending his free time at High Arka and a much easier time imagining a professional sockpuppetry operation having a motive to shit in the comment threads. By a number of credible accounts, the threads at James Howard Kunstler’s Clusterfuck Nation are recurrently infested by sockpuppets using DoD and DHS IP addresses. The thought of someone being assigned by government or corporate creeps to pester me online and throw me off balance is disconcerting, but if it ever turns out to be more than just some dipshit flame warrior, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. At least I’m not trying to run this blog from China.

Yeah, I’m totally gonna ditch the Murica Derp handle on the advice of some anonymous nuisance internet bully instead of publishing things that I figure might appeal to my repeat readers. LOL.

*****

Bullying is in the air in American politics these days, and it’s one of the most baffling things about Donald Trump’s candidacy. Agnostic has written about the secular decline of bullying during the Great Compression (in spite of his being an admitted, unashamed bully himself). One telling vignette he provided was that there was a New York Times article about hazing at West Point in 1873, during the Gilded Age, but no such article during the Second World War, when the service academies were on full war footing and training their cadets as seriously as ever.

What’s so bizarre about Donald Trump in this light is that he promises to turn the tide on socioeconomic inequality while simultaneously introducing what may be unprecedented open bullying into US national politics. Presidential candidates have historically had their proxies engage in all sorts of unsavory, unethical behavior, but I can’t think of one who has personally uttered the sorts of open, ad hominem slurs that Donald Trump directs at his real and perceived enemies as a matter of course. Please chime in in the comments if you can think of a precedent, especially a recent one. The Adams/Jefferson slugfest over incest and hermaphroditism came to mind, but it was a proxy war designed to make the candidates themselves appear above the fray.

What happened this cycle was that a notorious bully showed up and immediately turned an entire presidential race into an endless playground fight. The candidates aren’t even trying to keep their own fingerprints off the dirty work. It’s no exaggeration to say that the tenor of the discourse has been dragged down to the level of eww, she’s bleeding from her coochie! and yuck, she just went potty! This is the exact level, tone, and content of comments that Trump has publicly made about Megyn Kelly and Hillary Clinton.

Clinton and Bush (those names again) are the two candidates to be thrown most violently off balance by Trump’s bullying. Bernie Sanders, who looks and sounds eccentric as hell at first glance, is focused on specific policies and, with rare exceptions (e.g., the BLM activist berating in Seattle a few months ago), not easily thrown off his game. Clinton’s easy provocation is straightforward enough: she’s habitually shrill and has a burning sense of entitlement to the presidency. Jeb Bush’s is more complicated, and sadder. In absolute terms, he’s wildly successful, having held the governorship of a large state without public scandal, but he has a massive chip on his shoulder on account of his father and brother, both former US presidents. He seems annoyed and resentful that he, always a sober and dutiful scion, was passed over as a presidential nominee in 2000 in favor of his brother, a family black sheep, dry drunk, and notorious buffoon who spent the first two decades of his adult life putzing around at corporate board meetings, getting shitfaced, and snorting coke. To this family resentment he now adds the resentment of being left in the dust by a notorious oaf from reality television who has never held elected office and has a bad reputation in legitimate, non-television-oriented business circles.

For a loyally married two-term Florida governor from family compound money, this open feeling of inadequacy speaks to a tragic impoverishment of the soul. This is far from the most compelling reason that he’s unfit for office (he wants to trash Social Security because he can always crash at Kennybunkport), but it’s still just pathetic. What’s much worse than Jeb’s pitifulness itself, though, is the rabble that has coalesced around Trump precisely because it wants to ally itself with the class bully to gang up on the dork. When I watch this, I can’t help but think that it’s exactly the same majoritarian mob bigotry that got the Jews and other disfavored minorities into trouble in Nazi Germany, and I can’t help but remember that I’m a quarter Ashkenazi.

(As it happens, until last year I assumed that Trump was a Jew, too. He always struck me as an excellent shanda fur die goyim.)

This is the kind of shit that passes for masculinity in the United States today. It’s a ridiculous, toxic simulacrum, but goobers fall for it. It’s an apt example of why only a lawless society fails to maintain a well-governed, accountable police force. Someone has to be on standby to arrest the shitlords if they start acting like Brownshirts. On an irreversibly bad day, the luck of the draw might be Daniel Pantaleo or Darren Wilson. On a good day, it might be the Secret Service agent who calmly reminded one of Trump’s staff goons that the videorecording of public events is protected by the First Amendment.

We’re still blessed with these good days from time to time.

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