Every day I look I see the Devil in the mirror

Time To Drop The Charade

Or, Die Erste Walpurgisnacht

EDIT: Part of my initial premise re:commenting on exclusive posts may have been wrong but this doesn’t change the overall point of what I’m saying

My last post on this platform was in January. There’s a very good reason for that — Medium hasn’t been worth using for at least that long, probably longer in all honesty. Now of course there have been previous spurts of drama where users have made protracted “leaving Medium” posts over this or that to the point where the “leaving Mediumgenre, if you will, has become something of a cliche. I’m not going anywhere per se in the sense of deleting my account or anything (though I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Medium banned me after this post for reasons which will become apparent later) but as far as I can tell, there hasn’t been anything particularly worth reading or engaging with here in a long while, and that’s by design. So I won’t be doing much here other than lurking or intermittently commenting or responding to comments, if that.

You see, Medium has been struggling to be seen as a legitimate platform since its inception. In practice, what this meant was that semi self-help quasi tech-themed clickbait and bland feel-good politically minded thinkpieces (sans any genuine think) ideologically conforming to the milquetoast leftist social mores of most Medium users have perpetually won the day. This always lead to an underwhelming experience overall for anyone not especially enthusiastic about such unappetizing cold slop, but it was still tolerable up to a point until the more recent (in relative terms of course, since they’re recent to me in the context of my first post going up in December 2015) paid membership features were fully implemented.

In its eternal struggle for legitimacy, Medium decided that simply being bland wasn’t enough. No, they would need a paid membership system — because after all, aren’t things you have to pay for automatically more important somehow? — along with the monetization features so many users have been clamoring for over the years. Now, I’m not a fan of freemium-style content models, but these changes wouldn’t have been that big a deal in and of themselves had they not crippled the ability of free members to interact with content. One of the biggest draws of any online social media platform is the ability to interact with other users. Setting things up so that just about every “featured” post is “member exclusive” and disabling comments on said “exclusive” content (I don’t know if this applies to paid accounts, but that’s beside the point) tells me Medium wants to pretend it’s a serious media outlet of some stripe where the filthy plebs aren’t good enough to have opinions on the oh-so essential output of their supposed “betters”. This more than anything killed what little enthusiasm I had for Medium. Just about the only saving grace of the platform from the beginning was that you were still able to respond to just about anything up until the “exclusive” posts began plopping in like so many self-important chunks of diarrhea.

Now here comes the part I might get banned for. Forget all the bullshit before this point. Take a look at my oldest post on Medium

I, meaning the fictional Roberto Pinchas, the even shadier personae represented by my other aliases, Scam Likely https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078VFSGBR https://www.minds.com/ScamLikely, and Ha Satan https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0793P8GW4 , &c, and even the less real albeit more corporeal flesh and blood phantom of a man behind said fictional entities, am only permitted to continue existing so long as I (We) continue to have venom flowing through my (our) veins. As a forgotten French murderer whose case became the basis of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment once said, “That which kills me shall remain my secret.” so too will the source of this demoniac substance which at once destroys and sustains me remain forever hidden to those who cannot see past the veil of banality obscuring their vision.

If inoffensive banality is virtuous, then the only way for me to exist at all is as Satan; an adversary to all. To me, there was never any value in aspiring toward humanistic ideals. I would rather be the devil incarnate than human, because to be reviled earnestly is far less maddening than being praised or simply tolerated disingenuously. My very existence was anathema to the world from the moment I was born. Not in any way one might expect or comprehend. I simply — AM — an affliction, an affront to the collective unconscious by my inborn nature. Rather than reject this, I embrace it.

Regardless of their political affiliation, I’d never trust anyone claiming to be on the “right side of history” as far as I could throw them. That kind of self-righteous rhetoric is the province of hypocrites, parasites, and troglodytes. Pushing social agitprop and cynically fostering ressentiment among as many special interest groups as possible for the sake of promoting your political agenda doesn’t make you a hero of the people or a moral crusader, it makes you a third rate political hack in activist’s clothing now matter how many -isms you subscribe to for the sake of the so-called Justice you believe in. Even if you were impartial enough to pull it off in good faith, which none of you are, to be an ally of Justice is to be a machine. I have no respect for mass-produced tin soldiers conned into upholding the shoddiest of bootleg ideals.

As an incarnation of Hell, I have no choice but to denounce and rebuke those drunk on their supposedly good intentions and those opportunists taking advantage of the former group in the harshest terms possible. Much like the premise behind my latest book, which is shown in the image above, I strive to be a mirror which reflects and emphasizes all the wretched and ugly things everyone attempts to ignore about themselves. Even if doing so requires me to actively be an “evil” to the population at large. As melodramatic and goofy as all this is, there’s no other way of getting the point across these days.