Sick

In the previous post I quoted a comment left by one anamolousNYC at Modoweiss. So then I went to look at who this guy is. He doesn't have a blog, he's got a Fliker set of photos, but he argues with some of his commenters.

I'm not going to argue with him, that would be totally purposeless. The man (if he's a man: how are you supposed to know with these annonymous folks?) is stark raving mad. He's got a set of beliefs, and there isn't even the tiniest crack through which reality might penetrate. Where I to argue with him, the only thing I'd ask him would be what theoritical set of facts could change his mind. As long as there is such a set of facts, it's still possible that we're having a discussion about empiric findings. If there are no such facts, then we're in the realm of mystics. This fellow is deep in the sick end of the mystic cesspool.

And yet: when you read him it becomes obvious he's intelligent, rather well read, and he writes cogently. I'll bet if you ran into him on the street (in NYC, I suppose) he'd look as normal as the next fellow. Hatred-filled souls needn't look crazy or frothing at the mouth. They don't even have to be victims of great injustice, real or percieved. Some of them are regular people, who lead regular lives, and melt into the regular background until you notice their particular deformity. It's not some objective curcumstance that makes them what they are. It's a decision of theirs to be that.