Saturday, July 08, 2006

Abnormal Psychology 201 – Introduction to Dr. Deborah Frisch

At the time I write this, the esteemed Jeff Goldstein is still off-line. A DoS attack took Protein Wisdom down shortly after Jeff and his two year-old son were subjected to an incredibly vile and sinister string of comments by Dr. Deborah Frisch, an adjunct Psycho-Prof from the University of Arizona.

We’ll treat this DoS attack as a coincidence for now. Later, we’ll treat it as the kind of thing we’ve come to expect from the kind of people who did it.

I won’t reprise Dr. Frisch’s creepy sado-pederastic hate speech, except to note a few of its peculiar characteristics. For our aim here is psychological examination. Psychology is a job which traditionally belonged to writers (like Dostoevsky and Kierkegaard) rather than Piled-Higher-and-Deeper Doctors-Of. Alas, I am no Kierkegaard, but going up against the likes of Dr. Frisch is a task for lesser minds. It would be far beneath the great Dane to chase this particular greased pig all over the fairground. Besides, if Dr. Frisch’s profession admits the likes of Dr. Frisch, then it is time for writers to reclaim the task which we once humbly ceded to the social so-called sciences. We can’t do much worse.

I’ll let the doctor introduce herself, in this comment at Left2Right (note that the post that drew this comment was a tepid note “on blogosphere manners”):
My name is Deborah Frisch. I live in Tucson, Arizona. I teach in the psychology department at the YOUkneeversity of AIRYzona.

You want to come find me, see that I'm real, hold a .357 magnum in my face, i say:

A few minutes later, Dr. Frisch added:
One day, some cheeky blogger is going to be offed by a psychopathic blogger. Will it be a scuffle@left2right? idunno.

i hope to hell it ain't me, i gotta tell ya.

but i feel kind of guilty for not blowing myself up on the steps of the lincoln memorial when i lived in d.c. while i was doing out pork for in a way, i WANT some futhermucker A-hole to off me because i pissed him off in the blogosphere.

A regular panorama of pathology invites our examination here. The comment about psychopathic bloggers killing other bloggers is of obvious interest. As is the totally irrational display of hostility, the aggressive use of profanity to intimidate, and the references to violence, guns, and even suicide bombing. Note how capitalization suddenly deteriorates right after “.357 Magnum”. When an educated person who normally uses passable grammar suddenly ceases to do so, it is of course an indication of an excited mental state.

In the Spike Lee film Clockers (if you don’t pay attention to Spike Lee films, you’re being an insufferable Dan Quayle) there is a scene where the protagonist Ronald (played by Mekhi Phifer) shows his pistol to a young boy. Normally meek and articulate, Ronald undergoes a physical change when he handles the gun. In real life Ronald is a hapless punk with a weak stomach who is easily dominated by everyone around him, but when he holds his gun (which he has never actually used) he is taken over by a power fantasy. His face twists into a sneer and his speech devolves into crude ‘hood-gangster argot. The transformation is both frightening and pathetic.

Just thought of that, for some reason. Being a staunch defender of the right to bear arms, it saddens me to see people for whom a gun is an ersatz penis. But it also amuses me to see the way some supposedly gun-hating liberals get all gooey at the idea of fondling a firearm of their own. That’s what you get for indulging crude materialistic superstitions.

Dr. Frisch managed to more or less retain the use of her caps key during her assault on Jeff’s family, but her little inner bitch-slapping pimp just wouldn’t shut up:
I don’t give a rat’s ass whether the pissant’s progeny live or die, but I have no intention of snuffing the mofo’s chillen myself … Wanna escalate this game. Fine wit me. Bring it on, hombre. Bring it on.
I should point out that Dr. Frisch is not black, if it is not obvious from her horrible Steppin-Fetchit-from-Hell ebonics. It’s bad enough that prepubescent suburban punks fantasize about gangsterism. Dr. Frisch’s porcupine display is doubly embarrassing, whether it’s intended to frighten others or to make Dr. Frisch feel like … well, a man.

Does Dr. Frisch want to be a man? Or to borrow some “scientific” psychology, is Dr. Frisch a man trapped in the castrated and insufficiently hairy body that is the normal biological manifestation of gentle women-folk? Is it therefore necessary for her (him, whatever) to augment her penis-less corporality with a psychological construct that simulates the absent appendage? In order to reinforce this construct (which is under constant assault by social conventions, not to mention common f—king sense) is it necessary for her to acquire a physical object to symbolize (or reify) her penis? Like a high-powered handgun, for example? How much more of this can I stand before I’m as moonbat as she is?

Stepping away from the abyss for a moment, I’ll let Dr. Frisch describe her mental furniture, in another thread from Left2Right:

I'll cop to be Christophobic. I'm abrahamaphobic, more generally - I have utter contempt for and anger toward the trinity of guy in the sky religions (judaism, christianity, islam). I think they are much less sensible than other religions (Buddhism, pantheism) because they are sexist and speciesist (god's a guy, god's a person). My tax dollars are being used to kill Iraqis, maim Marines, mangle Humvees and destroy a poor nation's infrastructure because of this pathological worldview.

I am a Christophobic lesbian. The way I feel toward Christianity is exactly the way many fundamentalist Christians feel toward me. If you offered me the deal to live and let live - they'll stop judging me if I stop judging them, I'd say no way. I reckon they'd say the same thing.


I think we are in the endgame. I think the time for civility and politeness is over. I think there is a very good chance the US will be at war (either a civil war or the target of a worldwide coalition that recognizes what a cancer we've become) within the next ten years.
So to me, the only hope is to duke it out with words with the slim hope that this will preempt the need to duke it out for real.

Oh - and for the record, I don't hump my dogs or cats, I don't have any piercings and the only leather I wear is on my Birkenstocks.

Reading through Dr. Frisch’s numerous posts in that thread, I notice that her capitalization wobbles at the thought of God, just as it previously prostrated itself before the stirring mental power-image of the .357 Magnum. Again we must diagnose mental agitation, though probably of a different sort. Whereas gun-wielding imagery caused her to hurry breathlessly along a sort of orgasmic plateau, the eternal countenance of the Almighty has a castrating effect, inducing impotent rage. She takes God to be symbolic of male endowment, which attacks her own genital pretensions. It circumcises her right up to her pencil neck. Even guns are no good against God.

In retaliation, Dr. Frisch resorts to a variety of emotional tactics. She diminishes God to “baby hay suess”, but the infant incarnation of God fills her with even greater fear and loathing. To some persons of the feminist persuasion, a baby is an even more oppressive tyrant than a grown man is. In Dr. Frisch’s twisted “Penis = Power” world-view, a baby is a wound that men inflict on women with their penis/weapon. Judaism mocks Dr. Frisch by over-awing her with a hopelessly superior masculine image, while Christianity sneaks up behind and completes her humiliation by symbolically impregnating her with Baby Jesus. The virgin Mary also offends her – but “the virgin” is her own despised self-image; the mocking reflection of her own frustrated sexuality.

To reassert this sexuality, Dr. Frisch – apropos of nothing – alludes to humping things. Especially small helpless things; i.e., animals and children. Note her obsession with “ephing” and impregnating, which irrationally dominates her anti-Goldstein comments.

She also alludes to conspiracies, conspiracies, conspiracies. This is apparent in her blog, which is full of 9/11 sick-think, and in her recent comments in which she portrays herself as the victim of Jeff Goldstein’s “minions”. She constantly indulges in interpreting well-earned criticism as orchestrated persecution, and insists on viewing the logical consequence of her own actions as unjust punishment. This is, of course, a dead give-away for sexual inadequacy and frustration. These little conspiracies are mere adumbrations of the grand metaphysical conspiracy that deprived Dr. Frisch of the penis she so desperately desires, and which she heroically struggles to construct in spite of the cruel reality that daily castrates and renders her powerless.

Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha hah ha ha. Okay, I’m almost out of scotch. Time to stick a fork in Dr. Frisch’s lily-white ass, because I’m done with her.

So maybe the idea of taking back Dostoevsky’s profession from the modern so-called psychologists was not such a great one. A sane and healthy mind has the life expectancy of a Colombian judge in this business.

Also, to continue with this might reinforce Dr. Frisch’s delusion that she is under assault by Jeff Goldstein’s minions. I am not Jeff’s minion, only his constant admirer. It doesn’t make me mad when people attack Jeff, because he can defend his own lunch money. But attacking his family, however obliquely … that just fries my cheese to a crisp. (Note the barely repressed hostility in all the preceding paragraphs.)

I think Jeff, and Jeff’s loved ones, have little to fear from Dr. Frisch. Or from Dr. Frisch’s imaginary phallus. Else I would not have made light of a situation that has grieved him. Peace out, boys and girls.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Not Born for Wars Alone ...

Lt. Colonel Yonatan Netanyahu, in a message to his men only hours before his death on July 4th, 1976:

I believe in the responsibility of commanders: a good commander is one who feels a sense of full responsibility for everything done under his command.

I believe in going into details. Anyone who doesn't do it, and who tries to save himself work, will miss the main objective of preparing the unit for war.

I believe that there can be no compromise with results. Never compromise with results that are less than the best possible, and even then look for improvements.

I believe, with absolute faith, in our ability to carry out any military task entrusted to us, and I believe in you.

I believe in Israel and in the general sense of responsibility that must accompany every man who fights for the future of his homeland.

The basic assumption in our work is to prepare for war in the best possible fashion, in order to stand quietly on the day of judgment, when it comes, in the knowledge that we did everything we could in the time that we had.
The time that Yoni Netanyahu had on this distracted globe was not long; just over thirty years. In that short time he fought in two major wars, one minor war, and participated in at least three decisive operations with the elite Sayeret Matkal special forces unit. All that plus the endless day to day warfare of the professional Israeli soldier.

Death is the special companion - the shadow wife - of the military professional. At age 17, Netanyahu wrote:
Death — that's the only thing that disturbs me. It doesn't frighten me; it arouses my curiosity. It is a puzzle that I, like many others, have tried to solve without success. I do not fear it because I attribute little value to a life without a purpose. And if I should have to sacrifice my life to attain its goal, I'll do so willingly.
Maybe that's as much philosophy as a soldier can afford, and all that he needs. It's the difference between a soldier and a fanatic. To the fanatic the world is meaningless, life has no value, and the only purposeful action is to destroy as much as possible before you yourself evaporate - either to mix your atoms with the void or to greet a bloody grinning god of death. What the difference? But a soldier fights precisely because he recognizes the meaning in things that thoughtless and superficial people cannot understand.
In another week I'll be 23. On me, on us, the young men of Israel, rests the duty of keeping our country safe. This is a heavy responsibility, which matures us early. I do not regret what I have done and what I'm about to do. I'm convinced that what I am doing is right. I believe in myself, in my country and in my future.
There is no self-pity in these words, only a note of understandable regret - again, the mark of the humane man who must grow up fast and live a soldier's life. The nihilist wants nothing better than the struggle he throws himself into; he is precisely struggling against everything that is or might be better. He has nothing to lose and nothing to give. The bloody revolutionary is celebrated as a tragic and romantic figure, when he is nothing except an aberration. The tragedy belongs to the civilized men who must dream of peace while standing endless guard against its enemies.
Not a day passes, literally, without a border incident, sabotage, mine explosion, murder, ambushes, shootings and setting fire to fields. During all the years of my service and of my living here the situation has never been so tense. In the army, everyone is impatient — when are we finally going to strike back?!! We have complete confidence in our strength. We are capable of anything.
That was written in the months before the Six Day War. Unfortunately too many of Israel's civilian leaders, including the great David Ben Gurion, did not share the confidence of her soldiers. They clung to the belief that Israel must survive by alliance and negotiation, because they were afraid that the world would not tolerate Jews who defended themselves by force of arms.
The Wars of the Jews are always the ugliest and hardest of all. These are the wars of apologetics and futile bickering, suppression or distortion of facts, and procrastination in making decisions. There is no doubt that what's called for is new leadership, a more correct perception of the realities, a sound recognition of the enemy's aims, and clear, definitive strategic-political planning. There must be no fumbling in the dark and no more tactical expedients, for these will get us nowhere.
It's the great obscenity of modern history that the mantle of "peace" is worn by those those murder peace inch by inch, either deliberately or by neglect. Those who would act decisively in defense of peaceful society must wear the "pro-war" label, while so-called pacifism demands that the endless attrition of terrorism, tyranny and murder be tolerated and tolerated and tolerated. Maybe the human race will wake up and maybe it won't, but Yonatan Netanyahu will stand quietly on the day of judgment, with nothing to apologize for.
The real cause is the sense of helplessness in the face of a war that has no end. For the war has not ended, and it seems to me that it will go on and on… This is the 'quiet' before the next storm. I've no doubt that war will come. Nor do I doubt that we will win. But for how long? Until when?

We're young, and we were not born for wars alone.