Current mood:

Impish

And so we are all united in the grand Circle Of Wank
Let me preface the following with two disclaimers:

1) I do not believe I have ever actually posted here. This link was handed to me on IM by a friend who knows I hang out here. If it's deliberate wankbait, WTF -- I'll take it and see what happens.(1)

2) I am NOT posting this because it is an attack on FW. I am posting it because it is without a doubt one of the most puffed-up piles of steaming self-importance I have seen in some time. Let's start with just a taste...

You probably know that a) most of my published work is Silmarillion-based, and b) my magnum opus is the Leithian Script, the modern-language play version of the Lay of Leithian, and that especially in the most recent segments, it deals — as does the Silmarillion explicitly, and to a more subtle degree LOTR and The Hobbit as well — with questions of Good and Evil, Fate and Free Will, Justice and 'The Gods' and all that other fun stuff.

That's nice, sweetheart. But who the hell ARE you?(2)

So! What we have here is an exhaustive analysis of this-here community, complete with pseudo-psychoanalysis via bitter generalizations, petty name-calling (3), accusations of super-sekrit handshakes, Pointed Capitalization, smug literary references, wildly overwrought metaphors(4), invocation of Snacky's Law (5), and (my personal favorite) inventing new words with the air of one who expects them to be adopted immediately by adoring fans.

In short: this is effin' hilarious. I need say nothing more. Judge for yourself. :) (6)

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(1) I bet she's eagerly counting the minutes until this gets wanked, anyway. I'm the obliging sort.

(2) Yes, I know a moment or two on Google or HASA will answer this question, and by the time I write this I know who it is after all, but aie all-holy Eru on a Triscuit -- I just can't get my brain past the staggering arrogance of this statement to begin with.)

(3) Yup. We're apparently all "pea-brains," folks. *sad, solemn nod*

(4) "But the poor Fandom Wankers are stuck in their circles of private hell..." This is what happens when a self-proclaimed Artiste tries to stuff flourishes into a skewed sociological analysis.

(5) "...a pack of jeering adolescents cawing or guffawing at anyone who passes them by and displays the least sign of difference..." She didn't mention cheerleaders, or else it'd be perfect.

(6) And if she can use pretentious footnotes, so can I.