Thomas Wictor

People don’t like my posts on Israel. They decide they’re going to “fix” me by “letting me have it.” Unfortunately for them, they lack the imagination to understand that I’m impervious. The ordinariness of their communications to me is…extraordinary. Their attacks are always the same:

1. Making fun of me for my looks.

2. Making fun of me for the deaths of my parents.

3. Making fun of me because I had a troubled relationship with my parents.

4. Making fun of me for having mental illness.

5. Making fun of me for taking psychotropic medication.

6. Making fun of me for being defrauded of my life’s savings by Mike Albee and Lura Dold.

7. Making fun of me for being a failed writer.

I don’t know why they think ridiculing me for these things is going to hurt me; they’re getting this information from my Website. I’m the one who wrote it or posted the photos.

That’s how ordinary the opposition to Israel is. They’re taking things I provided myself and attacking me with it, as though I’m going to be shattered to learn from myself that I’m a failed writer.

Today on Twitter a Ron Paul toady spent hours saying the same things over and over and over to me.

Martin the Ron Paul toady is so ordinary that he’s incapable of grasping the concept of people committing suicide by refusing to cooperate in the treatment for their cancer. Anything contradictory, complex, or counterintuitive is a sweet mystery to him. My father simply refused to acknowledge his illness and took refuge in madness, making even tests impossible. My mother underwent surgery and chemotherapy but then starved herself to death over six months. Both parents died in terror. Theirs were not rational decisions to end their lives.

Keep in mind that Martin the Ron Paul toady is a stranger doing his ordinary best to inflict as much pain as he can on another stranger simply because I support Israel. This is why I’ve always despised Ron Paul toadies. They’re cultists who are indistinguishable from Muslim terrorists in their unhinged hate for Israel.

That’s really funny on multiple levels. For one thing, Martin just wrote that my daddy issues stem from my father ignoring me while he was alive. But now that he’s dead, he’s paying attention to me, by gum!

Secondly, my daddy issues most emphatically don’t stem from my father ignoring me. I was one my father’s central foci. Ordinary Martin the Ron Paul toady can’t understand why that would be a problem.

He’s a lucky bastard. Being so ordinary, he’s unaware of just how lucky he is.

Psychological projection is truly an amazing thing. I never really understood until recently that with too many people, all you have to do is posit about six factors, and then they’ll live their lives as though somebody—wonder who?—stuck a big key in them.

Martin the Ron Paul toady is telling me all about himself, and he doesn’t even know it. Here’s an axiom: Everyone who hates Jews had a terrible childhood. Think how many horrible parents there are in the world. Billions.

Ordinary Martin the Ron Paul toady is unable to comprehend all things that lie outside his tiny universe of politics, Jew-hate, eating, social media, and primitive self-aggrandizement. The term “lonely” has no meaning to me. I’ve never been lonely. My own company always sufficed. That wasn’t how my life was supposed to be, but it’s how my life turned out. I improvised, adapted, and overcame, which is the ethos of the United States Marine Corps.

Oorah!

Since I began writing about Israel, I’ve met some great people online. These are some of the finest minds I’ve ever come across. Many are Israelis, one’s Dutch, several are Americans. Each one is worth 400,000 ordinary Martins. The reason they’re so exceptional is that they have soul and they’ve broken free from convention. Ordinary Martin is in a prison of his own making. Imagine being a mass-produced Ron Paul cultist, yapping the approved party line. Limitation personified.

Ordinary Martin asked me literally fifty times how my father died.

Ordinary people don’t know how to deal with absurdist humor, so they just grimly plow ahead.

You need to understand that humanoids like this don’t bother me at all. Ordinary Martin threw everything he could at me, but he only succeeded in showing the caliber of the typical Jew-hater. That was my plan. Get this guy to keep talking, and then write a post about him so that the Ron Paul cult gets a little more exposure as the cabal of degenerates it is.

He was obsessed with the fact that I take psychotropic medication, but his knowledge of the topic is half a century out of date.

Eesh. “Homebound” means “on your way home.” The word he tried to use is “housebound.”

He kept calling me a “pill popper,” a term I haven’t heard in decades.

The last two tweets say, “You have daddy issues at your age. You’re mentally deficient. It’s all on your Website.”

It is? GREAT SCOTT! WHO PUT THAT THERE?

Well, I did. So I already know that it’s all on my Website. He also made a reference to the Amazing Kreskin—a celebrity from forty years ago—and said that the first rock concert he went to was given by the Who. My guess is that ordinary Martin is masquerading as someone much younger. I’ve read about people like that. Pretending to be a kid on social media? WOW. That is genuinely bereft.

I have to admit that it was fun to run rings around him. I do it to keep my writing chops…choppy.

For whatever reason he retweeted my post about Ziad Abu Ein’s death from hypoglycemia.

And then it ended the way it always does.

Since June of this year, not a single opponent of Israel has given me a substantive argument. Most just tell me how old I am.

That’s proof of their ordinariness. I chose that photo in order to make a specific artistic (ahem) statement. Everything I do publicly is performance art. My main influence in my later years is Johnny Cash. When he showed the video of “Hurt” to his daughter Rosanne, she burst into tears, but she said that he was very happy with it because it made exactly the statement he wanted.

My public statements and the images I post are part of a long-term art project. Though I’m not lying about anything, I’m performing. Never forget that.

All you ordinary rinky-dinks who send me hate mail, insult me, threaten me, and hack me? You’re wasting your time. I’m already with Johnny Cash, far beyond your reach.