Fair Game Theory Fair Game Theory

An examination of ritual and metaphor vs. cognitive dissonance in the context of culture and degrees of indoctrination, and the impact of economics on religiosity. The meek shall be rewarded. Have fun in the next life, dumb*ss!

Hey-if you’re a hacker or specialist with the resources to investigate and prove the extensive psychological warfare demonstrated in Vanity Fair’s “The Golden Suicides”, get in touch.

This is the follow up to episode 116, in which I describe getting stalked by a literary agent, or someone posing as such, after I sent an email query to Bill Clegg for my dark humor memoir, “Almost Rapist”.

Here, I delve back into the James Frey scandal being complicated by the presence of two major Scientology actors in the film version of his disgraced memoir, and even touch upon the potential long range cultural impact of Will Smith’s sequel to Independence Day—Palm Sunday.

Ultimately, this episode, like this whole podcast, is about me getting screwed out of all I deserve while terrible people benefit from a society designed to keep average people from ruining too much and punish greatness.

I honestly wish I was back in the cult so I didn’t have to know all this. Nevertheless, I haven’t called the registrar just yet. I’m not a conspiracy theorist, I’m a conspiracy realist. There’s a real conspiracy against me, I just don’t know how it works exactly.

Do you ever get the feeling that a billion dollar church has put cameras in your home in order to anticipate your next move at the laundromat in order to coordinate spies to interact with you so you’ll form delusions that your response was morally inadequate and so karmically manifested a rejection email from an arts residency in hopes of triggering your public Karen freakout? I knew I wasn’t alone in this. Thank you everyone. After only 121 episodes, this podcast has surpassed 1000 downloads. Consider this your reward.

This is for anyone who’s ever said “Why would I care if anyone spied on me? I have nothing to hide.” I used to say this very thing, in a loud, bragging tone to all my friends. Other than an isolated incident involving a single serving meatloaf from Eli Zabar’s which falls outside the statute of limitations, I have nothing to hide that I won’t eventually exploit for my art—but it turns out, getting spied on can still be terrible for many reasons.

Hey all-so I experienced a leak in my ceiling timed oh-so-perfectly with the publication of an article in The Marshall Project written by an inmate sentenced for murder whose girlfriend’s body was found by hotel staff who noticed a leak coming through the ceiling of the Soho House. This inmate happens to be a character in my currently-being-queried novel, “Almost Rapist”. It’s like, even from jail, people are still getting better writing opportunities than me.