Son lì che navigo tra i social network, alla ricerca di qualche piattaforma che mi permetta di scrivere qualcosa di più articolato di un tweet e tu guarda, mi imbatto in questo Martin D. Kröger “Harvesting patterns of chaos. European, IT Consultant, Hacker, Transhumanist, Postmodernist, Bi. (English not my native language)“. Leggiucchio incuriosito i suoi post scritti in improbabile inglese maccheronico, e lo trovo molto simile a Uriel Poi succede che un certo Enrico Maria Fusi lascia un commento e, tu guarda che strano, Martin D. Kröger, cancella il suo account e sparisce.
Chissà perché. Magari Martin D. Kröger non sopporta i commenti di Enrico Maria Fusi. O forse Uriel non sopporta Enrico Maria Fusi, vai a sapere. Comunque ho fatto lo scrinshot e ve lo ammanisco.
E se non riuscite a leggere, ve lo trascrivo qua:
Post di Martin D. Kröger
At War Against Happiness.
I had a blog. For a dozen years. And I closed it. Because of hate.
After one year and more, still haters are looking for me on the Internet, and trying to get me everywhere. I wonder when they will get my pseudonym here. Yes, because now I must hide. Like in the DDR, when the Stasi was looking for you.
After one year, I am starting to elaborate what happened. Why I had to shut up a blog which had three hundreds thousand visit per week. How I came in fear for my family.
So I feel ready to analyze.
Let’s start. First: why?
It was not because I had a blog. Logically speaking, if the blog was the problem, then closing the blog and deleting all the content (a dozen year of posting every day, more or less) should have solved the issue. Nevertheless, after one years and a half, they are still stalking me.
Of course, the easy explanation is “they are into a medical condition”. That’s for sure. Of course people which spends time to look for the author of a closed blog is mental, psycho, or something. Which is why I fear of them: those kinda people is exactly the people which would wait for you in your home yard, with a knife.
But, there is always a triggering event beyond. What exactly is the event which triggers the hate? Why me and not another person? Why my blog and not another one? Why so personal? What triggered this hate?
I was thinking at their meticulous , zealous effort to track me, to get the name of my wife, then my daughter, then the school she was attending. I was thinking how now, after more than one year , I had to change 3 nicknames before of being free on Medium — not the most known platform, because they are sort of hungry for me.
And, what they are writing to me? “We are observing you”. Of course they are, until I write something. So they are not strong: their attention comes only when I give them some power, writing something. And then, again, why? What I wrote exactly?
Well, basically nothing special. I discussed more or less whatever I had in mind, day by day. It was more or less a journal. I advertised my books there, sure, but it was just a late initiative, and perhaps an hobby.
So what was producing all that hate? After a while thinking , I ended in the conclusion that I wrote, by accident, mostly beyond the lines, the most subversive, offending, insulting, forbidden sentence you may say in public.
I AM HAPPY.
Yes, I am not joking. It was (and it is still) a happy time for me. Job was going well, I moved to a better life, I got married, my daughter was born. So the fact I was happy, even not stated explicitly, was always visible beyond the lines.
Just think about it: think to all the (famous?) people which was stalked or bullied online. In which period, exactly? Bieber just after having a new girlfriend. Happy moment, isn’t it? Leslie Jones , seems to be in a happy period of her life, both professionally and personally. Kylie Jenner. Drew Barrymore. All of them, the pattern is the same: the psychos are triggered by this simple, easy sentence: I am happy.
Doesn’t matters if you write it explicitely or not. The worst hate always comes when you show you are happy.
At the beginning I was thinking this was envy. But, thinking better, some of that people (I also investigated some) has no reason to envy me. They have a job, a family. Ok, they are psycho, so they aren’t rational… but… which force pushes people to hunt you, for more than one year?
They are in war against happiness. Those are the people which, everyday, just awake from bed asking themselves “how can I ruin someone else’s day?”.
The war against happiness is very common. Why a party should propose a law against transgender’s toilette? Why people should be against gay marriage? Why people should protest against a movie they will never look at? Why a major should forbid a controverse singer to have a concert?
For the same exact reason:
A transgendered person is transitioning to achieve happiness.
A gay couple is getting married to achieve happiness.
People which is attending a movie , is getting happiness from it.
A concert is a storm of happiness for the fans.
Every Time you have a display of happiness, they show up. The enemies of happiness. Doesn’t matters what you are doing which makes you happy: it will be always too much, too late, too early, it will be offending their ethics, their morals, their “conscience”, don’t worry, they will find an excuse.
Because what they hate is happiness. They are fighting a war against happiness. Under their perspective, who is happy must quit.
I have no idea how this mental illness starts, or develops. I only know there are lot of people in such a state of illness. And, if you trigger their condition showing to everybody you are happy, then they will attack.
Alfred Adler said a psychopath will be able to apply any energy requested to feed its vicious behavior: no matters how much. No, they will never get tired.
They will never get tired because, when I closed my blog, the message they received is “now he got rid of us, so he will be happy”. And this is exactly what they cannot allow to happen.
So they will never stop.
So if you have a blog, and you can’t afford a security company, just consider my advice: never allow anybody to know you are happy.
This can trigger a war.
Commento di Enrico Maria Fusi
Thank you for sharing your story, which looks so similar to my own. See, I grew up in Coloblasti, a small village near Ferrara, Northern Italy. My life was pretty dull. I mean, I had a few friends, some of them smarter than me, some of them dumber. Basically, we were all computer geeks.
The thing is, when you grow up in such a place you tend to develop a pretty insane view of yourself. Because all the people you meet are basically like you, you desperately want to be perceived as different, extraordinary gifted, enormously intelligent or whatever.
And when I moved to the city, I mean the really big city, Bologna, then I could do it! I started telling lies about myself. Social networks were not yet. There was Usenet, do you remember? So I started having relationship with people there. Basically: for me these were relationship. They thought I was their friend. See the difference? I had no friends. I just was in touch with people, and used other people as mirror for my lies.
And I lied. Boy, how much I lied.
I pretended I had a laurea (Italian equivalent of an MA). To certain ones, I said it was a Math MA. To others, I said it was Economic. Others, I let them believe it was Computer Science. But I hadn’t any of this. I barely finished high school, to run away from that village where no one was ready to appreciate me being a genius.
I pretended I had several sexual experiences. Of course, it was all extreme sex. You just cannot lie about having a girlfriend and skimming the Kamasutra together. No: if you chose to lie, you have to lie properly. Therefore I pretended to be the centre of sexual attention of scores of paedophiles AND very wealthy ladies AND Catholic priests AND a Rabbi, all together, all engaged in hard core BDSM with a camera operator in background. Oh, and there were also scores of BBW ladies.
The thing is, I was desperate for attention. Deep inside I knew I was quite a regular guy, with a decent job and a quite average sexual life. But that was not enough for me. Oh, I also let believe people I was a sort of an hero, working in the mornings in computer shops, and as a bouncer in the evenings, and a PhD student in the afternoons. People believed it. Probably they wanted to believe. Probably the felt privileged to count an exceptional personality among their friends. I discovered how easy was to manipulate people.
Until they met and started confronting the various stories I have told them. Which were contradictories, of course. And I found myself exposed. That was too much for me to bear.
Yes, I could keep on pretending I was happy, and they were not. I could tell this version of the events to me and the the selected few who (yet) were paying attention to my bullshits. Yes, I could even threaten legal actions (I did) against those who were -as I said- merely cross-checking different stories I told to different people.
But in the end I gave up. I ran away. I erased my beloved blog, after having banned the many who have exposed which sort of cazzaro (Italian expression for idiotic, imbecile, and yet boaster kind of guy, Münchausen style). I moved from Facebook to VK. I was in love with Putin, you know, a strong man who keeps the Jews in line (by the way: I hate Jews. I just cannot said it openly because they have too much power, But I hate them. They manage to be different. Which I cannot). I pretended there was no data tracking on VK. Of course it was a lie. I was merely running away from Facebook, where my once followers have met and have started crossing stories and references. In the end, I waved goodbye to VKs too.
I desperately miss the times in which I had my ever growing circle of followers and fans. I felt even sexually powerful, then. Sometimes I pop up here and there. And secretly I hope not to get caught.
In short, I pretend to be happy and it’s not true. I pretend the rest of the world is there to get me, but the rest of the world does not care about me at all, and merely takes note of my desperate attempts to get attention.
Isn’t it. A-ha.