This is what happens when a good deal of intelligence is invested in ignorance, when the need for illusion is deep, my child, you have come to me my son. For who now is your father if it is not me? I am the well spring, from which you flow. When I am gone, you will have never been. What would your world be, without me? My son. I see you. I have watched you. For a thousand years, I have watched you. Who among you still fears death? Who will not face emptiness? The unobserved state is a fog of probabilities, a window of and for error. The watcher observes, the fog collapses, an event resolves. A theory becomes a fact... What is the truth? Tell me, if you know. And I will not believe you. Things are never what they seem. Clean gloves hide dirty hands - and mine are dirtier than most... Without truth, there can be no justice. Justice will be done! But, I digress, I'm getting off topic...The riddle... of otaku.
Once upon a time we were free to like what we wanted to like the some self appointed prags decided to police the fandom on behalf of a majority that never once asked for such a thing, and when the masses cried foul the silent majority declared, "Purging is at last at hand. Day of Doom is here. All that is evil, all their allies; your parents, your leaders, those who would call themselves your judges; those who have lied and corrupted the Earth, they shall all be cleansed! You, my children, are the water that will wash away all that has gone before. In your hand, you hold my light, the gleam in the eye of Set. This flame will burn away the darkness, burn you the way to paradise! Infidel defilers. They shall all drown in lakes of blood!" And those of us who felt our hobby attacked know that the best defense is an unbeatable offense and react as so. After all, Light, in the absence of eyes, illuminates nothing. Visible forms are not inherent in the world, but are granted by the act of seeing. Though the world and events do exist independent of mind, they obtain of no meaning in themselves: none that the mind is not guilty of imposing on them. I bid my people follow, and like all good equations, they follow; for full endowment of purpose, they do submit - in turn, they resign me to a role inhuman, impossible, and unaccountable. But I can no longer stand the sleepless nights...
Maybe, just maybe we shouldn't put too much emphasis on such things, but what do I know, I'm just a middle aged, straight black male witch.
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