One poem commenting on two comments. The first is Stickwick, who has a job and writes academic books. The subject is that Foz Meadows accused Vox Day of being in the NSDAP reborn, which he not only denied but (as he knows the editor of Black Gate) got the relevant accusations removed.

The charge of misogyny isn’t as egregious as calling someone an “actual neo-Nazi,” but it’s just as stupid and ill-founded. Idiots like to call Vox a misogynist because he fails to be obsequious where women are concerned, but the great irony is that he does in fact treat women with respect — by reinforcing a certain level of behavior, and by rewarding skill and virtue.

I’ve said it here before, and I’ll say it again. For all of his insipid SJWism, all I ever got from Scalzi was the ban-hammer. Three comments on his blog, and I was banished forever for “crossing the stupid line.” I come to VP, and Vox gives me a book deal. Tell me who the misogynist is.

Stickwick knows Vox. These commentators from File 770 (who were commenting on this argument) do not. They tend not to use handles, but the diminutive of Vox’ real name.

The issue is not defamation. The issue is that in Italy, where Teddy lives, there is a crime called “reconstitution of the nationalist socialist party”. It is very unlikely that the Italian police is going to go and arrest him, and if I tried to shop him they’d probably laugh me out of the Questura, never mind that the Italian police is probably in ideological agreement with Teddy baby.

In other words, he’s pulling the victim card to bully people.
Sigh. Ok I admit that I did think of notifying the anti terror police, which handles these issues. But it would involve sitting down in front of an official person and starting off with “Ok, this is a long story and it has mostly to do with science fiction. First let me explain about the Puppies…”

I have a feeling it’s not going to end well. For anybody.

You look to small, social wimps. Your mewling for justice has made you weak. You cannot even hate well, let alone love. Byron knew better, including where he had erred.

‘God save the king!’ It is a large economy
In God to save the like; but if he will
Be saving, all the better; for not one am I
Of those who think damnation better still:
I hardly know too if not quite alone am I
In this small hope of bettering future ill
By circumscribing, with some slight restriction,
The eternity of hell’s hot jurisdiction.

XIV

I know this is unpopular; I know
‘Tis blasphemous; I know one may be damned
For hoping no one else may ever be so;
I know my catechism; I know we’re caromed
With the best doctrines till we quite o’erflow;
I know that all save England’s church have shamm’d,
And that the other twice two hundred churches
And synagogues have made a damn’d bad purchase.

XV

God help us all! God help me too! I am,
God knows, as helpless as the devil can wish,
And not a whit more difficult to damn,
Than is to bring to land a late-hook’d fish,
Or to the butcher to purvey the lamb;
Not that I’m fit for such a noble dish,
As one day will be that immortal fry
Of almost everybody born to die.

Lord Byron

If you are going to be libellous, have some wit, stand behind what you say. If you have erred, apologize.

But do not think your ideology will save you. We would all be damned, but for Christ. And those who will not let us talk about him make a greater sham of religion than anything Byron mocked with his acidic ink.