If you enjoyed our dissection of Michael Hill’s rambling, strap in– because we’ve got a new specimen on the slab!
In what can only be described as a Robitussin-influenced slide into dissociative paranoia, Matt Parrot banged the cheetos dust out of his keyboard and posted the resulting word salad.
Within the first few months of public White Advocacy, I started receiving death threats on my phone number, 317-324-8282 and at my firstname.lastname@example.org email address.
“Do you see what I did there? I hope it wasn’t too subtle for you. You see, I’m incredibly intelligent and am the brains behind this outfit, so I know that if I put my contact information in public view and I get harassed for innocently supporting reconstituted Romanian death squads, I’ll be the tough he-man I think I am! And if no one takes the bait and treats me like the inconsequential do-nothing neckbearded brony that I really am, I can still claim complete and total Aryan victory over the hordes of judeobolshevik assassins! So don’t even think about it! Don’t even THINK about calling me! I’m not starved for human contact! I’m not fed up with listening to Tom Buhls breathe through his mouth day in and day out, I’m not having separation anxiety stemming from my inability to continue running my fingers through Heimbach’s crumb-infested lunatic beard! No! How foolish. But seriously, call me.”
I was repeatedly threatened with being “doxxed”, so I was careful to conceal my [redacted, at girlfriend’s request] social security number.
We saw the SSN you posted, and given that Chinese and Russian bots have reached extreme levels of efficiency at trawling the internet for numbers that adhere to the AAA-GG-SSSS numbering scheme, it’s far more likely that you received several angry phone calls from your banks and credit card companies than you did from any “girlfriend.”
My employers were repeatedly pestered by the SPLC and others,
“I have to invent things now, because the crippling reality is that I’m unemployable due to my numerous severe antisocial personality disorders. The fact that my previous employers received calls from people concerned that they were employing a person who advocates mass genocide and goon squads was just a convenient way out for them to sack me, since I was never really any good at my job to begin with.”
which led to my current arrangement of being a long-haul trucker
“I’m a real workin’ man, bein’ held down by the filthy jew rats and their negroid assassination squads! Really! Instead of being a lonely geek in a trailer park, I’m a lone knight of the highways, hauling trailers! Yeah! That’s the ticket!”
who performs freelance computer consulting work in my mobile office. It’s rudimentary to take my CDL to a different outfit if this one cans me, and most of my freelance clients couldn’t care less if I were an ax murderer, as long as I deliver solid code.
You’re obviously not a union trucker, otherwise you’d have set on and off times, so it’s difficult to determine when exactly you’re shoehorning-in this “coding work” between driving all day and night and catching whatever sleep you can in your cab, considering hunting for one single dropped comma can take several hours. And I’m agog that there are clients anywhere who care more that the code is solid than if it’s on time. So, if you are doing actual coding and not, say, farting around in Joomla or WordPress like every other phony “internet professional” actually does, the only logical way you could be achieving this level of output is through the typical white nationalist outlet of amphetamine abuse. Speed-induced paranoia actually might explain the rest of this rambling diatribe, so I might not be too far off the mark.
I would offer my home address, but I live in my truck, so I don’t really have one to offer.
Well, that’s courageous– admitting that you’re homeless. Or you’re not actually serious about being mister macho internet tough guy. Or you’re just avoiding the inevitable embarrassment that will come when people find out the true nature of the squalor you live in.
The heckler’s veto which the Internet’s anonymity provides has resulted in a profound chilling effect on public discourse,
“And I know a thing or two about stifling free speech and chilling effects on public discourse, since I like to show up at talks by Tim Wise with signs that advocate a return to lynching. That’s not to mention my other unemployable freaks who have a bizarre attraction for a dead Romanian fascist.”
and has steadily grown from a childish prank phone call stunt targeting toxic extremists like yours truly
Only in your most fevered DXM hallucinations would anyone consider you a “toxic extremist.” You’re more like the “day old can of half-eaten spaghetti-o’s” of the far right than anything else. Von Bluvens commanded a far more loyal following than you ever will.
to this obnoxiously familiar canard peppering every major public political brawl. With the recent #gamergate hassle,
“Look! I am current and topical! I’m going to reference something that happened on the internet as a way of staying relevant!”
This is the point in the rant where everything starts to fall apart. Matt– the trilby-wearing, MRA brony– will now attempt to link his own inadequacy to a Gordian Knot of vitriol, as if defending his love of Applejack was essential to the broader white supremacist scene. Let’s watch!
each side eagerly served up death threats and eagerly presented the death threats as a farcical sort of digital badge of courage that they were supposedly risking their lives for feminism or social justice or whatever.
Having a bit of a morbid sense of humor, I was especially amused by a call a few years ago purporting to be from right outside my apartment,
And that’s it for attempting to make that pop culture reference mean anything. Matt would rather you completely forgot that.
threatening my imminent death and the imminent rape of my dog.
Dog rape? Does this come from the same part of the neo-nazi brain that invents the mythical “bags of urine” that magically appear and disappear without a trace at every mobilization against white supremacists? Steeping yourself in a rigidly authoritarian, sadomasochistic society –like your Romanian death-cult fetishism– where you’re unable to conduct healthy explorations into your sexual wellbeing makes your personality come out sideways.
I didn’t even own a dog, though my family’s Teacup Pomeranians which I’m very partial to
(ahem) No comment.
were most likely never in any meaningful danger. I helped organize a Shadow Conference for would-be AmRen attendees
“I’m useful! I did something! Where’s my banana sticker?!”
the year that Daryl Lamont Jenkins “anonymously” threatened to corrupt the morals of the hotel manager’s dog,
There’s that bestiality manifesting itself again. C’mon, Matt.
and I was in more danger on the public bus ride to the previous year’s AmRen then I was directly defying the fearsome legion of anonymous assassins.
…because no one even knew who you were until you had to practically shake them by the lapels and beg someone– anyone— to punish you like the naughty little boy you think you are? I get it. You’re acting out because your life is changing in ways you have little control over, and you’re demanding that the universe give you something tangible that’s familiar so you can have a semblence of emotional stability. Sure, your world might be crumbling around you, but as long as you have one constant factor that you can touch on –your security blanket of externally manifested self-hatred, for example– you don’t actually have to face your worst fears and grow as a human. Or maybe it’s something more prosaic, like the fact that your acolyte Heimbach is now gallavanting all over the US and Europe with his new wife and A3P’s bank account behind him and you are stuck in Indiana, alone with your My Little Pony dolls, driving a truck and waxing poetic on a blog no one reads about your glory days when you mattered just enough for someone to want to send a death threat to you.
It’s all bullshit, and I’m glad that this latest tiff between Sony Pictures and the Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea
LOL WAT. What the everlovin’ HELL does this have to do with anything else in this disjointed hodgepodge of words and letters?
has elevated the bullshit to the point where this micro-terrorism can officially jump the shark and people can stop taking it seriously.
For someone who adheres to an ideology of terrorizing non-whites, he surely has no grasp of the nature of terrorism. This isn’t a film trope or a bad sitcom– terrorism does not “jump the shark” and real human interaction rarely bears any resemblence to poorly-written Hollywood scripts.
It’s not serious. I suppose, in theory, that some day, somewhere, somebody’s death threat or bomb threat could actually result in a death. But even then, for God’s sake, is the statistically insignificant potential of death really worth handing over your very agency to speak your mind in public?
“That whole “boy who cried wolf” thing? The boy obviously had the right idea. So what if I’ve only read half of the story?!”
And if you’re that cowardly, should you really be dabbling in public life to begin with?
I wonder to whom precisely Matt is directing this question. I’m sensing a gnawing doubt in Matt’s subconscious that’s bugging him more and more– ‘maybe throwing in my lot with a bunch of fascists who want to reenact the Bucharest Pogrom and hang the corpses of Jews from meathooks wasn’t the best life choice I could make.’ Or, ‘maybe having to justify my behavior by inventing death threats and physical assault isn’t a healthy way to exist.’ Or even ‘maybe Heimbach’s staging that photo of him attacking someone with a wooden crucifix is a sign that he’s more of a danger to himself and the people in his immediate social circle than he will ever be as an activist.’
I helped organize the Shadow Conference for would-be AmRen attendees,
“Me! Me! I’m significant! I matter! I’m so significant and I matter SO MUCH that I had death threats made against my dog!”
and one of the topics of discussion at that event was how this whole “death threat/bomb threat” phenomenon amounts to a crowd panic fad which people will eventually grow past. People will eventually learn to quietly and calmly file a police report about the threatening communications and go about their business, resisting the urge to publicize the threat. People who shriek about having received death threats will be socially shamed for cowardice and attention-seeking,
Really, all you did in this piece was harp about how much of a stoic manly man you are and how all of those death threats you allegedly received don’t bother you. Now you’re doing a complete 180 and are begging to be shamed for publicly whining about receiving death threats. Like you’re being shamed right now. Oh no! We’ve fallen into your completely subtle and well-orchestrated plot to provide you with the public humiliation your damaged subconscious so earnestly hungers for! CURSES! Well… OK then. You’re a cowardly attention seeker who should be ashamed of their behavior. Happy now?
and the increasingly popular phenomenon of faking these threats to receive attention will further cloud matters.
So the next time you claim to have received a death threat, we can immediately dismiss it as being a fake. That’s helpful.
Even if the threats were entirely legitimate and death were imminent, it would still be necessary and appropriate to plug forward. The alternative is a world where nobody says anything that anybody disagrees with, where everybody cowers in constant fear of crowd-sourced Anonymous Assassins achieving a 1984-style dystopian control on public discourse.
Gosh, it’s almost like a lot of people don’t approve of white supremacists. But that’s ok, all you have to do is slap on some blinders and ignore those know-nothing haters and you won’t have to face any public scrutiny of your antisocial behavior. Well, that’s not entirely true– you’ll still have to face it, but with some effort you can just as easily imagine none of it is happening.
I’d really rather be dead than live in the kind of world we’ll end up in if we don’t all develop the habit of ignoring and dismissing death threats, bomb threats, and doxxing threats.
“I’d rather die than someone believe I received a death threat.”
I like the anonymity that the Deep Web provides, and it’s here to stay.
“I was really bummed when Silkroad went down, because now I have to get my Vyvanse, Adderall and Dextromethorphan like a filthy peasant and the local high school kids don’t take bitcoin!”
But it’s going to require our culture to catch up with the technology, namely a new normal where a blogger casually chuckles “Bring it!” when somebody dials his cell and threatens to kill him to death with a machete.
“Kill him to death?” If your “code” is as good as your writing, I’m shocked you get any work at all.