Mon, 1 Aug 1994 22:11:28 EDT

the lovolution this time. What I want to talk about is Danny's misogynistic
lies. I know all about those because Danny posted his password, which he
never changed since he got this account in 1988, on a list called Leri, which
must have 600 little boys, most of them studying how to be sexists and rapists
in college, and about 50 women who put up with that shit. Danny was having the
usual testosterone-driven flamewar with some young kid, Lamont Grandquist, who
was only 19, and who threatened to kill Danny from where he was, at the Univer-
sity of Washington. So Danny, who was wallowing in self-pity, suicidal but
afraid of medical bills, posted his password.

I know every misogynistic lie he told, so I'm going to get him for it so
long as he has the nerve to tell me he never lies. Item: Danny believes, he
doesn't say it but believes it, that I'm even crazier than him, which makes
him feel good, like what racism does for white trash. Like how no matter how
low a man is, at least he's not a woman. So he got furious when Steve Mizrach,
who is Seeker1 on the World Future Society list, put his name next to mine in
a post. He lied about his fucking *Chivalry* and actually told you his shit
about protecting the honor of white womanhood, he loved me, he said. Just
because we had what he calls sex and I call whatever it was an F. This is one
situation where, if a man fails a required course, you don't allow repeating
the course, you don't give makeup tests.

That's for starters. Danny then went on to have a disgusting sexist flamewar
hate campaign against Stephanie J. Nelson, whom anyone could tell had too much
brains for Danny to admit a woman can have. Especially if she sees right
through Danny, who believes he's *complex*. What he is, actually, is boring and
childish. He was fit to be tied for months after that. Use your imagination.
The police found 200 feet of nylon rope in his office. (I said, "Who do you
want to tie up," and he told me, "Margaret Thatcher." I said, "How can you want
to tie up Margaret Thatcher," he said, "I imagine her a little younger, and
I tie her up on B&D breaks; too *demanding*, if you ask me.")

Twisted sick minds is what you have to expect from men, and too many women
die, get beaten up, get raped and victimized by tortures with costumes, get
their bodies mutilated with steel navel rings to match their soldered-on ankle
chains and their lip rings and tatoos. Women's issues allow no privacy. This
isn't the first time I've said that. When I posted Danny's love letters is
when I said that. Don't believe Danny's misogyny about that, either; he thinks
there was some kind of law I had to have sex with him when he came up here the
second time, and the first time you know about.

I am posting this to warn you that Danny is about to smear Diane Bennett, a
woman in New Zealand, who's been very sympathetic to Danny in the hope of
getting him to face the fact that he is dangerous to women because he is
addicted to speed, which is legal crack, only worse. He is going to accuse
her of Class Persecution by the Upper Middle Class. (It happens that Diane
Bennett and I are very close on certain issues. One of these is how you need
an elite commanding unquestioned obedience. Where we diverge is on whether she
can be in it unless she embraces Neutopian philosophy, which I believe she may
do. I believe Diane Bennett is a Genius equal to myself. I was just reading a
book about Gender and Genius, and now know the rule book, umpires, and official
scorers were crooked and biased; and the analogy with sports is to show it's
a game for men by men.)

Diane Bennett believes in academics and status, which I do not. I have
written more than once that the reason to get tenure is five cars in the
garage. Wouldn't you just know it, though, *Danny interrupts all my sentences*,
how sexist can you get. What misogyny. Which I don't need right now, having
to *move* by September 1, for *no good reason* just because in Capitalism the
house and lot are the *private property* of Capitalist real-estate speculators
exclusively interested in Money. This Capitalist has *sold the house* without
the slightest thought that he, even if it was a woman she'd be just a tool of
the patriarchy, was obstructing my Project, organizing the lovolution which
will bring about Neutopia. "For I am the Goddess, and my mighty womb gives
birth to Neutopia." Any interruption of my Net access *critically delays*
my search for the Gaia Messiah, my consort as charismatic leader of the
Movement for the lovolution which culminates in the massgasm. After that,
we and our community of believers in Gaia religion will establish the rules
for the truly human Neutopian community, living in revolutionary new
arcological structures. Locating the Gaia Messiah, who may be anywhere in
Cyberspace, is the most important task of my life, if not of all human history.

Only recently, I summarized my feelings about Capitalism and Money in THE
LAST CAPITALIST QUEEN, my article on the death of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.


This time, Danny *corrected*, mind you, corrected me like some undergraduate
sexual-harassee, in one of his psychotic-delusional *courses* which he'll never
teach, even for free, as in Stony Brook, he's a dangerous drug-addict sexfiend
they had to throw out of town to protect the community. But getting back to
what he said: "Faculty have more important privileges than money. First and
foremost, exemption from 'functioning', time-scheduled existence such that
They control where your body is at any given time of day," blah blah. "Karl
Marx understood this perfectly clearly, which is why he never got an honest
job in his entire life," blah blah. "Second, a 78 on the Humbert-Segal-Rossi
Occupational Prestige Scale for a Professor of anythingatall," blah blah.

"I'm sorry," this is Danny, "I read the sociolinguistics stuff about men
committing all the interrupts on women; just that I'm *very upset* about this
social scientist writing to another social scientist SHRINK TO SHRINK! Upper
case in the letter I wrote her when I read the letter she sent to [name
deleted], what with all those other letters sent to me, *who knew*? And I find
her happy birthday phonecall was a *projective test*; also she says she does
*fast-forward* when reading anything in my letters about there's a society out
there with objectively real conventions with rules that objectively exist and
not just in my mind, and claiming I *Know* something about it, and how this
applies to her and people she knows. Which she calls in this letter my line of
defenses and self-justifications for evading dealing with my Drug Abuse! And
to fuckall, she wants to know if it'd be any good for my Wellness if she sent
me some organism, say, a cactus, for which vegetable the armenians have got
Arizona, they've got all-new, NAFTAlized Meh-hee-co, let her sit on it. I might
consider a fucking *moa*, you know, room's great for it, I just move *out*,
which I'm doing! Not a fullgrown adult moa, kindergarten-age moa. Moa than
that, it does not goa past the doa."
"Moas are extinct, Danny. The Gaia Messiah is a man who *cares* about all
species in nature. You don't!"
"Diane Bennett...."
"Agrees with me!"


Neutopia, as she sometimes calls herself when she must behold herself in
broader, panoramic perspective, got to know Diane Bennett after Danny posted
to Leri "is lyndon larouche a woman" which tells how Danny ran into these
African-American LaRouchians - LaRouche and Louis Farrakhan have merged - at
a literature table near UofI/Chicago warning of a plot involving the Jews and
the Queen of England (who's the world's biggest dope smuggler) with the
Freemasons in it, etcetera, which is pretty stupid since, once you grasp
Neutopian philosophy, you have no trouble understanding why everyone *except*
the Goddess and her Gaia Messiah are completely brainwashed by Capitalism and
Patriarchal religion.

Danny showed my dissertation to a LaRouchian, a woman, of course, more
misogyny. But only two paragraphs, out of context, about the need for a strong
leader who receives the vision, the true Prophetess/Prophet who alone has the
Truth. This woman, according to Danny, read my text aloud, kept repeating
"Yes!" and "That's right!" Which is not even good field notes, as you say,
because Danny told *me* she also said, "That's correct!"

Danny said, LaRouche is a fascist, right, and when he, Danny, asked this
woman, "In your opinion, would Lyndon LaRouche agree with every word of that,
she said, "Yes," and when he asked, "In your opinion, could Lyndon LaRouche
have written every word of this, she again said, "Yes." Which is supposed to
prove something, I suppose, to men, who use left-hemispherical male logic,
but more likely, it's more of Danny's cheap sexist and misogynistic lies.
Neutopian religion is about not letting men get away with that shit. I don't
*care* if the nazis called this *fuhrerprinzip*. You want to know why?

I went through Danny's Progressive Sociologists Network files. Danny has
a friend named Alan Spector, Purdue at Calumet, who wants Strong Leaders, his
capitals. Danny gave a lameass excuse, this was beyond belief, "He was in SDS
back in the Sixties, see, but he went with the Progressive Labor Party, and you
just can't reform people like that; like Catholics and the Pope, sorta."

Bullshit. Alan Spector is a *man*, Neutopia and Diane Bennett are not. Diane
Bennett got a copy because Danny did a cc: to her userid for the sole reason,
he told me, of showing, "You can do it entirely without Drugs, like getting
high on meditation, you know."

Stop him! I mean it! He'll kill something! I'm sure of it, because even *he*
tells me, "Nobody has the slightest doubt that if Bart Simpson, a ten-year-old
Normal who does not even exist and is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Rupert
Murdoch, can commit a double murder in Los Angeles under the very nose of
Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop IV, live coverage round the clock for weeks
on 23 channels, one look at me and They know, "no telling what he's likely to

The last strange thing Danny told Doctress Neutopia last night was more than
even I could take. Listen to this, and tell me whether Goddess or not I'm going
to be martyred:
"Men and women are different...."
"No they're not."
"You interrupted me again. Of course men and women are different...."
"Very trivially, for all practical purposes not at all, and the differences
are so minor that, in the absence of social construction, the *outside
observer* might not notice without a large research budget. But there is social
construction, so illiterates can find properly-gendered rest rooms at airports.
"Now, you take differences without social construction, you compare me to
the Normals, like you, you ever been called a Normal before, lizzy [that's me -
D.N.]? Impeccable Appropriate Behaviour. So done-to-perfection, when I was in
your company, it was like you were my Seeing Eye Normal; you *credentialled*
me, even without a wheelchair, as a cripple. Instead of, uh, fuckthat.
"We were at the table, you recall, at the Paradise of India restaurant, your
pal Ada comes over, I trip out into monologuing about theory, history, all the
taboo shit They got me for from June 30 to July 2, she digs it, says, 'I think
you're very strong to persevere despite your *handicap*,' my emphasis.
"Ada's double-luck, though, rara avis, she saw me with Normal lizzy *and*
she has near-and-dear ones with Missing Parts.
"One thing I can tell you Slapsie-Maxie Weber did *not* mean by *charisma*,
which is Greek for magic, elsewise, it's so stupid nobody'd use "personal
magic" for anyone but high school class presidents, which is usual, is, Normals
who are so Normal they fit so perfectly into the woodwork they can partways
drag even me into the woodwork. Weber, you know, was both Normal and boring,
this affected not the slightest by his having spent half his adult life in the
looney bin, and a sexual weirdo besides. So where you said, p. 49, 'Millenarian
movements may be led by a charismatic prophetess,' tell me, lizzy, whothefuck
*is* this woman you are talking about?"

Oh, I *just don't know*! Eeeeek! I *think* I know what's *real*, you know
what I mean, but I've got the sneaking suspicion, this is not it. What's it?
Not it, not it, not it, not it,...You're IT!
Somebody please......

Doctress Neutopia