Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Tales of Woe

Those who are familiar with the discussion threads over at Slacktivist have probably run in to Scott. For those who intend to become familiar or do so accidentally one day after drinking a bit too much scotch and spasmoidically clicking on weblinks, he could use a bit of introduction.

Over on the L.B. Friday threads Scott generally seems like an agreeable sort. He even contributed an entry for Left Behind: The Musical which worked pretty well (I must confess to being overly fond of any song that makes use of the word "regurgitation." And, of course, there's the matter of his stressing the need to use the Gene Wilder version of Willy Wonka). Were that Scott's persona on L.B. Fridays the only version we get of him. Alas, 'tis not to be.

The vast majority of the rest of Scott's posts on Slacktivist take the shape of ad hominem attacks against Fred because our dear host seems to like 1.) government and 2.) the idea of helping people. These things don't seem to match up at all with Scott's way of seeing things, so he will often rant about the evils of Compassion(TM) and offer his view of a Libertarian Utopia (Libertopia(R), for those who like portmandeaus or are aware of the new Libertarian-themed amusement park opening in the Azores next year. I wouldn't recommend the roller coaster, though. Or, really, any of the rides that are fast enough to cause permanent damage to a person catapulted out of their seat).

Either way, the attacks are generally vicious and not really attached to anything Fred said by any system of logic with which I am familiar. So I found it necessary to offer a primer on Fred's early relationship with Scott and post it on the latest thread. I have been urged to re-post it here for the sake of posterity and, since I'm a slave to the Compassionate Liberal(TM) Government as proposed by Fred, I can do no other...

Okay, okay. I've got it.

Scott and Fred went to high school together. Fred was the head of the Yearbook committee, class president and coolest guy in the local youth group, which Scott also attended. Cindy Stapleton, the stereotypical girl next door and head cheerleader -- whose nose was just a little too big and who was just a little bit clumsy and ccasionally snorted when she laughed so as to make her seem accessible to even the nerdiest guy -- also attended the same youth group.

Scott grew up two doors down from Cindy and they'd always been friends, but he was afraid to tell her that he'd been in love with her ever since grade school. The idea would occasionally come up in an oblique hint, but she'd always say something like, "But I don't want to ruin our special friendship. It would hurt too much," and gently push him off topic. One night, though, Scott watched every single John Hughes '80s teen angst movie and decided that he just needed some grand, romantic gesture to win her heart for all time.

He spent $430 on D Cell batteries, then walked over to her house with his giant boombox and snuck in to her backyard. It was dark and the light in her room was on. Through the semi-translucent curtain he saw Cindy silhouetted and knew it was now or never. He pressed play and lifted the boombox over his head as Culture Club's "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?" began playing.

The silhouette moved, startled. Then a second form appeared in the window and threw back the curtains. It was Fred. He laughed at Scott, then told him to leave, Cindy was all his. By Monday morning everyone in the school had learned what happened. Scott was humiliated. Then, to add insult to injury, Fred stole Scott's lunch money and used it to pay some of the school bullies to give him a swirlie.

None of the girls in the school or youth group talked to Scott again. When he graduated he went to a school on the other side of the country, hoping to escape horrible Fred's derisive laughter and mockery forever.

Scott's first semester at college made him quite homesick and he found himself excited at the prospect of returning home. He managed to get his plane tickets moved up a few hours so he could surprise everyone. He was, instead, surprised when he got home and found the house empty. Strange noises were coming from upstairs, so he investigated.

He found Fred and his mother getting it on. In his old bedroom.

Rather than jump and cover herself in shame and alarm, Scott's mom grabbed the first thing she could find and threw it at him, screaming for him to get out (and, I suppose, some other things...). That object was a copy of The Fountainhead. Scott had never bothered to even read the book before, but after that day he read it with passion and fury, seeing the same anger he felt in the words Ayn Rand had left for the world.

Then, upon finishing the book, Scott swore in the name of the sainted Rand to take
his vengeance out on Fred any way he could. And that is what we see before us every time Scott posts on Fred's blog.

Except Left Behind Fridays, when he usually has something funny and interesting to say. I assume this means that Tim LaHaye once killed his dog and Jerry Jenkins regularly breaks in to his house just to poop in his Cheerios, so Scott sees Fred as a common enemy of those who continue to wrong him.

So there you have it. You're now prepared to handle any problems that arise on the Slacktivist threads. Well, except the Thursday Flame Wars. You're on your own there...

3 comments:

damnedyankee said...

My God, now it all makes sense...

Drak Pope said...

damnedyankee -- no it doesn't. This is just something that you can never understand.

Jesurgislac said...

The end of the tale of woe.