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January 13, 2011

The Evil Moron Writes Types

Obvious, I think, but this kind of guy is looking for fame.

The other day I was misspelling the Idiot Killer's name. A commenter pointed it out, and I was about to correct (it had been inadvertent), but it did occur to me: Why not just misspell his name, as we famously did, to sadly no good effect, with Linza Muzzarelli? If this Idiot Killer wants his name remembered, why not try our best to deny him that?

But I did correct his name, anyway.

Then I went on to Jim Geraghty's site, and he pointed out he was writing the name as seldom as possible, and I thought, Gee, I'm a dick. I should have misspelled it after all.

But that's just symbolic, anyway; the name cannot be suppressed. Only a MiniTruth could suppress it, and thank God we don't have that.

That said, it's important to this kind of cat about how he's remembered. Calling him a monster is not an insult; he wants us to think of him as a monster. A failure in all aspects of his life, he decided, correctly, that the only possible way the world would ever know of him would be for him to commit a stupid, crude atrocity, a type easily achievable with minimal planning and strategy, because that is the most his borderline-retarded level of intellect and discipline could achieve.

Turned away from the most menial jobs as patently unqualified, shunned by women as 400-watt blazing-white loser, charmless, ugly, unskilled and weird, he set out to become The Bogeyman, the ugly monster, and succeeded at that (but what else was he capable of, except stupid lumbering destruction?).

So calling him a monster isn't an insult; he is so degraded and limited in his ambitious that "monster" is his highest ambition.

I think what we can do is tell the truth about him: He is borderline retarded. I do not say that to hurt anyone with mentally-challenged people in their families, but to hurt him, because he wants us all to believe that behind that ugly, bent-smile mask of psychotic horror there is something more to him, something interesting, something searching, that we should all pay attention to.

But there is not. His "philosophy," as it were, consists entirely of aping the most childishly-simplistic syllogisms of a logic class he obviously dropped out after two weeks; half of them are wrong in the first place, and the other half are along the lines of "Apples are red. This is an apple. Therefore this is red." His other Big Insight is to note that our dating conventions are in fact conventions, just like our naming conventions. Or our bridge-bidding conventions. Or... any convention.

I do not think he understands what the word "convention" means but if he bothered to look it up, and noticed that not only has all of this been noticed before but it's been noticed well enough that there's a specific word for it, it might have saved him a great deal of strain on his stunted, inadequate, deformed intellect.

People will be looking for "evil" in his writings. That is the wrong tactic. Evil, in its literary form, is interesting -- ask Dante -- whereas Jared Loughner is not. Evil, in, again, its literally form, is sexy -- ask Dracula -- whereas Jared Loughner appears to be a loaf of bad bread that didn't quite bake long enough in the oven.

Evil, in its genuine form, is almost always crude, stupid, and ugly. Like Jared Loughner.

But searching for evil in his writings would be to pay sympathy to the Devil, for that, to him, is his highest aspiration. But Jared Loughner is not the Devil, and I know this, because the Devil isn't pasty and paunchy. He's not a 115 pound loser encased in 45 comfort pounds of babyfat and couch-padding.

The more rewarding task is to search his leavings for stupidity, confusion, inadequacy, and ugliness, because in his shut-in, pathetic, socially-isolated life he left us a veritable treasure trove of full-spectrum failure.

Here's Ladies' Man Nephew Fester attempting, he thinks, a sexy come on to someone.

I bet your hungry....Because i know how to cut a body open and eat you for more then a week. ;-)

Don't focus on the grotesquerie of taking "eating out" somewhat more literally than usually intended; that is just this flabby dullard's ripping off of American Psycho and trying to be "weird" because "weird" is the closest thing he has to a personality.

No, focus on his pathetic attempts to rescue this obtuse flirtation with a winky-smiley-emoticon at the end. That is worse than insane; that is sad.

His full-spectrum failure with women -- an impressive debacle, given the fact that almost everyone hooks up or winds up married, no matter how disadvantaged they may be -- is a frequent complaint of Loughner's, who's such a colossal failure in this regard that he can't even hide his shame, as most people do.

Here he is, pathetically telling others of his failures, and, even worse, resorting to transparent fantasy of selective, protective recall of events even in doing so:

Its funny... when..they say lets go on a date about 3 times..and they dont....go...

That is funny. So funny, in fact, it doesn't happen. Women rarely ask men on dates, and I'm quite certain no one ever said "lets go on a date" to Jared Loughner. As evidence for this, I submit Exhibit A.

Further, if a woman is so interested in a man that she skips the social convention (look it up, Jared) and does ask a man on a date, guess what -- she goes on the date.

Obviously what we have here is Loughner begging women, multiple times, to go on dates with him, and them demurring in the vaguest, safest way possible because he's so crackling with weird, jangly, ugly energy they're a little too afraid to just say "No." Not sure how the scrawny and yet still quite chubby boy would handle it. And he is incapable of comprehending that he's been given a polite "no thank" you -- even after the third time 'round.

This leads, of course, to Loughner theorizing further on male-female interaction, again resorting to stupid, ugly fantasy to mask the terrible reality of his failure from himself.

Later that day, he posted a rant titled "Why Rape," which said women in college enjoyed being raped. "There are Rape victims that are under the influence of a substance. The drinking is leading them to rape. The loneliness will bring you to depression. Being alone for a very long time will inevitably lead you to rape."

So why didn't he rape? I don't know, but I doubt he could have overpowered a woman. He didn't lack the will or nastiness; he just lacked the upper-body strength. I suppose we have to be grateful for that.

Having solved the eternal puzzle of male/female interaction, the Idiot Killer Loughner tries to untangle further mysteries:

Would you hit a Handy Cap Child/Adult?

This is a very interesting question...

Actually it's not terribly interesting to me, because Jared Laugher, who is himself a "Handy Cap," has provided me with a ready answer, and no question answered so immediately is truly "interesting." But let's follow the philosophical inquiry of the deformed boy-toad further:

There are mental retarded children.

Do tell.

They're possessing teachers that are typing for money.

Remember: Highest in Loughner's skill-set, per his own self-description, is his attentiveness to, and expertise regarding, the subject of English grammar.

What you just read, then, is Lougher firing on all his one cylinders. What you just read is as good as he gets.

This will never stop….The drug addicts need to be weeded out to be more intelligent.

What can I say? The man makes a surpassingly good case.

The Principle of this is that them c— educators need to stop being pigs.

That sentence is a bit of a surprise, because despite being ungainly, ugly, and clumsy, it actually contains no actual mistakes of grammar.

Yes, read it again. It's actually spelled correctly, with no mistakes of punctuation (such as Loughner's bafflement about the correct usage of ellipses and his unsurprisingly-schizophrenic mind about how many periods are proper in an ellipsis).

Loughner's special genius at "grammar" is to deploy it so crudely and clumsily that it appears he's making mistakes and speaking in a third language even when he's managed, as a technical matter, to write one of his few instances of clean prose. Correction: Nope, I got so inured of his endless errors I missed one here. "Them." So his streak of grammatical failure is pretty much uninterrupted.

But he's not done philosophizing:

On April 28, Mr. Loughner wrote: "How many stars are in the universe?" Other posters responded with mathematical calculations. Later in the thread, Mr. Loughner shifted gears: "What do Chocolate cookies taste like?"

Neither of those questions is automatically stupid, but they are stupid in Loughner's case, as it's pretty plain he's just asking childishly-simple questions because he picked that up from the three paragraphs of a Zen primer he was able to manage before his headaches set in, and plainly has on interest in actually exploring the issues. These stupid questions are not intended to solicit information but rather convey information about Loughner, and that information, he hopes, is that he has wide-ranging mind full of deep inquiry.

In fact, he's a diagnosable moron in the old, medical sense of the term, who plainly has no Act II with regard to his "inquiries." He asks a simplistic question hoping people will perceive some depth behind it, but when it's time to demonstrate that depth, he's not up to the challenge and has to get out from being in over his head by asking what cookies taste like.

If someone had answered that, he just would have tried "Why rain?" or "What Monday?" or "Who America?" or some other crackerjack sophomorism.

He probably seized upon some Zen charlatan's observation that four-year-olds are the wisest among us for they question the most. Which heartened him, because that's about his speed.

By the way, I knew someone, briefly, who according to his friend's testimony had been nearly brain-damaged by constant pot use (my friend said, That's why I don't smoke every day), and this was the kind of childlike-stupid question he'd ask. Like, he turned to me as we were watching MTV, and asked, "How is it someone you never heard of suddenly get on every tv channel and radio station all at once?" I was a bit baffled by the question, because the answer seemed obvious: "You never heard of her, but her producer, record label, and marketing department did, and they've timed the advertising campaign and full-court press to get airplay for this moment," but he didn't seem to appreciate the answer. He seemed to think the answer should be more metaphysical, more mysterious.

Because, I note, he was stupid, but thought he was asking a very ethereal sort of question, and thought it should have a similarly ethereal answer. Having gotten a real answer, he went back to zoning out.

That's all Loughner's questions are. He, wrongly, thinks he's in the vanguard of asking such questions, so when he asks "How many stars in the universe?" he intends it to be a stunner for his audience. When his interlocutor gives him an answer -- with a formula and everything -- he's not interested, because it was never his intent to actually find an answer; it was his intent to be praised for asking the question, and he's disappointed that it turns out to be something a lot of people have already thought about and, in fact, pretty much answered.

He's disappointed to find out, over and over, that rather than being rather ahead of the game he's about eight to ten mental-years behind it (if not more).

But that's where he lives, isn't it?

On May 14, at 10:50 p.m., Mr. Loughner begins an online thread he called, "How many applications....is a lot?" It contained what appears to be a list of 21 retail outlets he had applied to or failed to get a job at, including Crate & Barrel, Wendy's and Domino's Pizza.

...

One gamer advised him that in order to get a job, he needed to provide potential employers such things as references and a list of jobs he had held previously. Mr. Loughner replied in a profanity-laced message that he knew that. "CANT HOLD TERMINATION AGAINST FUTURE EMPLOYEE !" He repeated that line 117 times.

I'm sorry to waste everyone's time "fisking" a mental defective; but I sort of think the exercise is useful, to deny him what he wants, and on a personal level, it's cathartic to vent hate at a truly hateful thing.

I'll just end with the Idiot Killer Loughner accidentally stumbling on to the answer to one of his insipid questions without realizing it:

"If you went to prison right now.....What would you be thinking?"

Two days earlier, whining again about his uninterrupted string of failure in trying to interest a woman in his meager "gifts," Loughner had answered himself, but he was too stupid to link the answer to the future question:

"Its funny when your 60 wondering......what happen at 21."

Odd that he didn't put 1 and 1 together. With a new record of six periods in his ellipsis, it certainly seemed as if some less-damaged part of his brain was trying to signal something big.

A message found after the shooting contained the words "Die, Bitch" in relation to Congressman Giffords. I note that it is not irony -- it is inevitability -- that this ragged mound of flop-sweat and failure could not even manage the trivially-easy task of killing an unarmed and unaware woman at pointblank range with a good pistol.

Even setting out to achieve an evil so simple his deformed brain could cope, he still failed.

Even setting his goals low enough that even he could, in theory, achieve them -- even in his brutishly-stupid aspiration to be a discount-rack off-brand factory-irregular damaged-packaging nothing of a minor assassin -- he is still the same abject failure he was at all other aspects of his life.

Jesus Christ All Mighty. This sick fuck is the biggest loser in the history of the earth.


Suprisingly... A lot of posters aren't on board with this mockery. I suppose because they themselves know mentally-incapable people and extending that empathy they've learned.

But, as Alex #11 said, my aim here is demystification. He wants mystification; I am doing my best to deny it to him. This is less about Loughner -- he's a nothing; he's a bug -- it's about the next Loughner.

As the Judge says sometime during The Wall: I sentence you to be Exposed...! Exposure is, for most, a scary thing.

All these vermin are the same, and they're uninteresting and unworthy in the same way. Their "brand differentiation," if you will, is their mystique of being "evil."

I'm saying no. No mystique. You are destructive, stupid, illiterate fat chubby loser. And you acted out like a piece of bad machinery did, with a lot of noise and confusion and some deaths; but we pay you no more mind than that machinery we now bury. You don't change our worldview.

You don't have that power. You're nothing.

Now, there are some killers who I suppose might be interesting in some morbid way but I'm telling the truth when I note this one is decidedly not. He's just a pathetic, angry retarded boy who didn't get the medication he needed.

Another commenter offers his snark on this loser:

Laughner is merely the Ralph Wiggum of evil.

Maybe that's too lighthearted for this project, but yeah, that's about right.

Loughner set out to teach the world something. All he taught us was what we already knew: subliterate losers get angry at their predicament and we need to crate them off to safe places before they explode like cretin-bombs.


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posted by Ace at 01:23 PM

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