Dispatch 5, Bonus, Part 2, The Comments and the Decoder. A special, by request, I AM SOULFIRE Dispatch. Welcome back. In Part 1, I read Dr. Setter’s post and gave you my take before reading the comments. IAS Confession This week’s IAS Confession. In seventh grade English class, I could not keep fiction and nonfiction straight. This makes sense to me now. I mean, why I was confused. Fiction and nonfiction terms are still stupid to me. There was this jock, as we called them back then, in my class. He was on the football team, and they wore their shirts on game day. I recall he wore sports team shirts all the time. His name was Mike D, and D stood for d******d. Not cool. Not a Beastie Boy. Most definitely a D-bag extraordinaire. I have mentioned boys being raised to be a certain way in the Gen X era. I’m now in my teens, and it’s now in the ’80s, and I’ve got this D-bag who was also competitive in the classroom. I was always neck and neck with him on quizzes, exams, and in-class shit. Teacher would call us to the front to pick up our papers she had graded. And he would walk up there like the valedictorian he saw himself to be. Pick it up. Look at it. Then hold it over his head like a number ten. And then he’d be like, what’d you get? To everyone. What’d you get? What’d you get? Confirming his genius. What’d you get, DR? What’d you get? I didn’t. What do you mean you didn’t? I didn’t do it. What do you mean you didn’t do it? Why the f**k would I write a paper showing how to use the vocabulary words we went over in class a million times? I’m not doing that. Boring. He could never comprehend why I didn’t give a f**k. And beating me meant the world to him. If you have not picked up by this dispatch that the DR is consumed with words and language and meanings and dual meanings and double entendres, play on words, puns, pronunciation, I don’t know. It’s useful in writing. So why wouldn’t I make use of it and be a writer? So seventh grade, I’m in the back of the room and the teacher is saying something about a fiction writing assignment. I used to be a blurter-outer. I would say things on my mind that were not meant to be vocalized. In today’s world, little DR would probably have one of those like ports with an app that feeds you tranquilizers and all the adults would have access to my meds. I asked out loud, is fiction real? Then Mike went apeshit because he saw an opportunity to humiliate me. Is fiction real? Is fiction real? Is fiction real? Is fiction real? Is fiction real? Yeah, that was Mike D laughing. I remember him bent over, about to fall on the floor, and pointing at me, hysterically. Moron. It was a Minnesota Vikings jersey that day if I recall correctly. But who cares? This is fiction. I remembered from then on because he made such a spectacle of himself trying to mock me. The memory is like a clip I can recall on command when my brain strays to which one is real. Fiction, non-fiction, fiction, non-fiction. Still doesn’t make sense to me. I think of Mike D and what a d******d he was. GRAPE APE, GRAPE APE. Do you know some adults still have to stop and think about right and left like they’re five? Oh, right. I just remembered he also ran for class president, too. Oh, my God. Of course he did. Mike D! Mike D for President of the Teen N-Zone Division. Cast your votes in the comments. You know mine. This is why I’m so good at fiction writing. Because the lines have always been blurred for me. The Comments Now, get the popcorn. Let’s see what the comments say. And whether Dr. Setter... has anything to say? Anything to add? Okay, I’m going to preface this with, I might crack up or I’m not quite sure because this man is a lot to deal with. So, first response from Dr. Setter. So many people got hung up on this. I was objectively correct. This event was hysterics. Did IAS say she heard hysterical, even though he didn’t say it? Yes, she did. Edit. Oh, this one. There are times it is only right to console... a hysterical wife. Strike out and just put woman in there and then find his address please. There are times it has become an unhealthy cycle. Reddit lacks the depth to process that. Dude, you are the worst. Remember that line that sent me a version of her conversation with the nurse? IAS heard him implying that she shaped the story of the nurse to pull him away from the big game. Here is how he describes it in the comments. His wife fabricated things to worry about because it was such a reliable way to lock down my attention. Rebuttal again. We agreed on a path out of that codependency, and at the first step, she created a crisis. Right. She created a crisis, causing herself to miscarry so that she could ruin your outside-the-home fun. Is that what you mean? He’s treating her concern about her own body as an emotional weapon, problem, tactic. And he knows better about her body than she does. I’m picturing his reasoning as, she bleeds there all the time. Why can’t she just use a tampon? I was so triggered by his use of the word cortisol that I wanted to poke him in the eye. He has earned his name as Dr. Setter. He comes in for some defense. This one really... No amount of consoling or affirmation, uh, that’s condescending, by the way, and sounds a lot like a bro, would have changed that or reduced her cortisol. Because, I mean, he is her doctor, right? And, if you can believe it, more on—not moron—more on the game, his position. Defending his importance to both teams, essentially the league, and the U.S. Olympics fantasy team scouts who are going to be at the game. He further explains how important the setter is. You are not familiar with volleyball. This isn’t me being arrogant. Yes, it is, Mike D. This is how teams are constructed. As if anyone in the comments gives a hashtag. About his role on a stupid high-end rec v-ball team. Like, what is that even? Is it a thing? Tell me if it is a thing. IAS feels certain that both teams in your Pro-like rec fantasy league would have been like, oh, wow. Is your wife okay? If you had told them why you couldn’t play opening game, but finding out you are the Reddit volleyball a-hole husband, I hope you have been banned from all leagues, even the minors. A commenter asks, Honest question, Why did you post this if you’re so sure you are right? Dr. Setter replies, I was already sure I was right about the part all of you morons keep getting stuck on. I was right that this was not an emergency. IAS begs to differ. You might want to pause, take a break, walk around the block. I am now going to move into the teaching moment in a narco trending and traits behavior to show you how frustrating someone— Remember my text with Bro. Remember my Dispatch, RESPECT. How I said you try different ways to phrase something. Thinking maybe this way will be the one to get through. Remember when I said this might look SO BASIC to you? Okay, so to most people, I mean, what would you do if you were the spouse, V-Ball Man? Or what would you expect if you were Mrs. Dr. Setter? Leave a comment. I want to know. I really want to know. Okay, so for IAS, it is a no-brainer that you would go to your wife, even if annoyed. And the consensus in general is, I mean in life, not on Reddit, a man that does not go to his pregnant wife in this situation is exhibiting bad, narco-trending behavior. And this is called a red flag. Right? Simple, basic, right? Yes. Two Different Attempts to Reach Dr. Setter I present two very different comments, two different attempts to reach Dr. Setter, re: his insistence that this was not an emergency. First, Sweet_Passenger9161: “YTA, you are.” It probably would have happened anyway. And I don’t think you should blame yourself for the miscarriage. But you made your wife and child less important than a rec league volleyball game. Anytime a woman is bleeding... during pregnancy is an emergency room moment. Any emergency room moment should outweigh rec league volleyball. You would think, sweet passenger, you would think. Her attempt, first, reassurance. Don’t upset him. Don’… This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit iamsoulfire.substack.com
