The Unmembered and Unremembered Wonder

Larry Correia pistol whips the execrable Mike Glyer of File 770:

Please put away any hot drinks posing a spit-take hazard or food items posing a choking hazard before reading. The savage honesty of Mr. Correia when he is in his fettle is a delight to see.

God bless the indignation of a righteous man!

But wait, it gets better:

In an illogical strawman-argument effort to accuse Mr. Correia of having fewer pageviews than he, Mr. Glyer provided his pageview information.

The alleged argument being made is that Mr. Correia says Mr. Glyer links to his site to get pingback in hopes of increasing pageviews. Now, obviously, one could do this with profit whether one was linking to one or more sites of any size. So even taking the argument in the light most favorable to Mr. Glyer, it is a meaningless and illogical effort.

But wait, it gets better yet:

A close inspection reveals that his numbers are inflated by pageviews issuing from Chinese click-farms. These encompass some 92% of his site traffic. That implies that Mr. Glyer is buying padding for his page rank.

And better yet again:

A closer inspection reveals that the domestic numbers are compared, Mr. Glyer, who runs a fake news site updated at least daily, has fewer pageviews than Mr. Correia, who updates when he feels like it, or when he needs to beat some internet loudmouth like a rented mule.

That he himself handed this evidence to the opposing party is spice added to the dish. And I am tempted to say that, even to a palate as keen for the zesty fire of schadenfreude as mine, the savor was almost too scalding. Hooting mockery collapses into silent pity at the sad vision of the pathetic wretch, mumbling, skull empty,  floundering with limp and rubbery limbs in the spew pile of his own making, unable to rise or continue the match.

My own history with Mr. Glyer is much briefer, simpler, and involves no great events.

During the Sad Puppies Kerfuffle, someone brought his name to my attention in a context I frankly do not recall, perhaps to mention that he had won 55 Hugo Award nominations since 1980.

Pause a moment to contemplate the sheer absurdity of that number. 55 Hugo nominations in 37 years for his work.

Since I have been in the science fiction field professionally for two decades, and been a dedicated and widely read fan with an encyclopedic knowledge of the field for half a century,  I dismissively and truthfully said I had no recollection of having heard the name before, and I did not know who he was.

I expressed puzzlement that this person unknown to a widely read profession like myself should have over twice the nominations than famed authors like Asimov (6), Heinlein (10), Clarke (5), van Vogt (2) and Bradbury (1) received for best novel when taken all together (24).

When adding in nominations for novella, novelette and short story, the numbers are Asimov (13), Heinlein (17), Clarke (9), van Vogt (3) Bradbury (2) totals to 44.

In other words, if we are to believe that the Hugo nomination process is uncorrupt and reflects accurately the opinion of the readers, we readers hold Mr. Glyer’s contribution as the categories of best Fan zine and Best Fan writer to be greater in merit to the combined works in all writing categories of Asimov, Heinlein, Clarke, van Vogt and Bradbury.

Note the dates. The 44 nomination from the authors listed here is from 1941 to 1984 or 43 years, whereas Mr. Glyer’s 55 nominations cover 1980 to present, or 37 years.

This means he has, on average, been nominated roughly one and a half times a year every year of his career. That is quite a laurel for an man unknown to a well read professional.

Nor am I selecting names deliberately to find underrepresented writers. Similar numbers obtain if you take other popular authors: George R.R. Martin (17),Harlan Ellison (13), Ursula K. Le Guin (20) when adding all nominations for novels, novellas, novelettes, and short stories totals to 50.

Well, with much schoolgirlish smirking and dimple-kneed bows, he immediately condemned me as a liar.

He did not deny any of the facts about the number of nominations of the lopsidedness of his meager contributions to the field, mind you.

He called me a liar because he claimed I did actually knew him after all.

It seems a diligent search of his backlogs had found one stray wry comment of mine left in passing to answer some remark on his site where gossips were gathering like crows who need to be shooed away from carrion.

From this, with much unctuous and grotesque insinuation, and many a halting an half-paralytic display of hollow avuncular joviality, the unmembered and unremembered wonder concluded that I therefore must clearly recollect him, must meditate upon the nuances of his career by night and day, and must know his sterling position of self-importance within the community.

Obviously I told a lie about a total stranger out of that bizarre and unaccountable malice that actuates all human beings finding themselves at odds with Mr. Glyer.

Of course, the fact that I bought a coffee at the McDonald’s drive-through does not necessarily mean that I know the name of he clerk who waited on me.

Now, I was not yet familiar with the tactics and manners of Morlocks at that time, so I was quite startled that a stranger would call my honor into question over so small a thing, and say things that, in my neck of the woods, were fighting words.

But the impersonal nature of the Internet protects all craven slanderers. Since I actually do not know who he is, much less where he lives, I dismissed the matter from consideration.

Perhaps I have exchanged words with him after that, perhaps not. I truly and honestly do not recall, nor would I care to look up any records to refresh my memory.

But the assessment of Mr. Correia is exactly right, and his use of salty language entirely justified. Mr. Glyer is a base, vile, low, loathsome, corrupt and putrefied shadow of a human being.

I once appropriated the term Morlock to refer to science fiction critique Damien Walter of the socialist Guardian newspaper of England, since his mental habits and moral development was so akin to that of a degenerate posthuman troglodyte cannibals from the fable of H.G. Wells. My original joke was that Mr. Walter combined the diligence and self reliance of an Eloi with the civility of a Morlock.

Mr. Glyer was the second man, if memory serves, to earn the title, and richly to deserve it.

One cannot help but wish upon Mr. Glyer those ills and disasters which in some few cases wake the weakminded from their narcissistic self regard to the alarming peril petty evil freely embraced poses to the soul.

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