Shoot You Down
A plaintive wail which I often hear is along the lines of,
“Why do you always have to shoot me down? I give you everything you could ever want. Why can’t you just be happy with that?”
As usual you delude yourself with such a statement. You do not give me everything I could ever want. You think that you do, but that is the self-centredness that you often exhibit creeping in once again. You certainly care, I will grant you that, but you make the mistake of assuming what you do is what we want. What we want is fuel. I know what comes next.
“I always told you how much I loved you, I admired and complimented you often and frequently. How much more could I make you feel good about yourself?”
Therein lies the problem. No matter how good your intentions and how frequent your worship of me, my kind and me will always grow tired of it. We have heard your kind words and seen your appreciative gestures too many times and it, well, it just does not do it for us anymore.
I am sure that you emotionally in touch people would be the first to complain if a long established partner engages in the same routine in the bedroom. It does not hit the spot anymore does it? Well, it is just the same for us. You may ultimately accept that things cool somewhat in the bedroom and I know from what I have seen and heard that you trade this passion off (although not always, there are some sexual thrill seekers amongst your kind) for other qualities that you find attractive – humour, companionship, security, warmth, good parental skills, intelligence and such like. There is no hope for any such trade with us.
We only want one thing from our relationship. Fuel as the indicator of control. We do not care (ultimately) how good-looking you are, how much of a whore you are between the sheets, how wonderful a mother you may be, what a raconteur you are or how much you earn. Those factors only have a bearing with regard to the issues of fuel and control.
We will never accept those things or anything else as a substitute for fuel. True enough, the more aged of our kind sometimes accept these things when their need for fuel diminishes but that need never goes away. They may decide to accept these attributes alongside largely positive fuel, but they will still need to stir things up from time to time.
That is not going to happen with me. I am at the peak of my powers and therefore my need for fuel remains substantial. There can be no substitute for it at all and nor can there be any co-existence between the provision of fuel and other attributes. It is fuel or nothing. In order to achieve this I have to shoot you down because once that is done you start to flow with the potent negative fuel and my cravings start to be addressed.
You can beg and plead with me, you can point out how you will always only ever have eyes for me, you can express your love, desire, adoration and admiration on an hourly basis but there comes a point when it just does not have that sweetness anymore. It is then that I pull the handgun from my jacket, attach the silencer and fire several vitriolic bullets into you. Your pain from these wounding bullets gives me the fuel that I need and therefore your shooting is necessary. Moreover, it is your punishment for letting me down. You really ought to be capable of pleasing me the whole time but so far, all that I have chosen have failed. That is why I now expect you to fail and have that gun to hand at all times.
When I shoot you down, I become more powerful as the fuel flows from you. Moreover, it is easy to get someone to admire and adore. Those reactions come naturally to your kind. It is far harder to extract tears, anger, frustration and regret from the empath. Managing to do so imbues your emotional reaction with greater potency, your fuel becomes supercharged and this is what we want. We cannot shoot you down from the beginning, we need you stood on a pedestal first, after all, you present as such an inviting target then and your toppling as the bullets slam into you becomes all the more satisfying.
I sense your dismay as you read this. You had hoped that by keeping me sweet and onside through a dazzling and tireless display of love, affection and admiration you had hoped to avoid such an attack. Your concerns should not be absolute. There is an upside you know. Firstly, when we find someone else after we have shot you down, keep in mind they will eventually be riddled with bullet holes no matter how happy we both appear at first. It is coming to them as it came to you. I am sure that makes you feel a little better doesn’t it? Secondly, there is a huge saving grace.
We never shoot you dead.
We need you alive so we can raise you up again as we re-load.
104 thoughts on “Shoot You Down”
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Thank you, HG! As always so well written, easy to receive, and brilliantly informative! Wouldn’t it be true to say that if we weren’t kept alive, there would be no puppet for the puppet master to squander? There would be no control in death, just a deletion in their fuel matrix…like you/we never existed. An open slot for the next sitting duck 🦆 Who wants to be kept intermittently alive? They are not doing us a favor by keeping us alive…it’s like being alive and flatlined:> Time to cut the strings/tendrils + leave the stage!
Thank you VK.
In certain places in the UK, Hunter Wellies are only allowed, by law, to be worn with a Barbour jacket and in the presence of a Labrador. Don’t want anyone falling foul of the authorities whilst on a trip. I think in the US they are probably safe.
I don’t like when people say ‘rubber’. It is even worse pluralized.
One day I’ll tell you about my Chanel heist in Bangkok. I’m still on pins and needles.
He shoots me down with those bullets all the time, and now I understand the thought process/logic behind it. Thanks again, HG, for helping us all to make sense of so much senselessness.
As an aside, your words are so similar to the things he says/how he says things it’s downright eerie.
You are most welcome Taryn. It is because I am the expert. I make it my business to be that.
Dearest HG: I like when you speak so confidently. Someone has to be confident these days, somewhere. And, right now, it sure is not me.
PSE
Hey you! Stop that! You come across as being confident and your posts are a joy to read! Do you understand how your words are helping others? All the people that read this blog and don’t comment? I know NS has been going through the mill on this one. The people who are being asked for help but are not contributing. (AAF)
Confidence in a man (or woman) is very attractive quality. As long as it doesn’t spill over into arrogance. HG’s BIG problem is that he isn’t arrogant. Not really. He is speaking the truth.
I define arrogance as a singularly lack of ability to see how they are perceived by others.
How is speaking the truth a problem?
HG
It’s not a problem at all.
Did you take that from my message? If so, I’ve spoken clumsily.
Clearly, otherwise I would not have stated as such.
HG
May I proffer you a bagel?
You may, but I shall not eat, thank you.
Ha ha! No worries. 💛
It can be your sacred bagel!
“How is speaking the truth a problem?”
HG: it became one for Socrates.
I am not concerned with Socrates, I am referring to how speaking the “truth” is a problem for me.
Violetta
What on Earth did Socrates say? Your knowledge of The Greek is better than mine!
He criticized the government, so they said he was “corrupting the youth of Athens.”
(They didn’t mean he was doing young men, because that would have been acceptable in that culture.)
In one of those viral lists of student bloopers that may be apocryphal, one student supposedly wrote (with poignant, if unintentional accuracy):
Socrates was a man who went around telling everybody the Truth.
They killed him.
He died of an overdose of wedlock.
Hemlock.
I believe one can die of an overdose of wedlock too, but I think HG is right in Socrates’ case, Violetta.
Violetta
Saw this last night and created a puddle on the floor.
I almost died of an overdose of Wedlock so it’s very relatable!
Renarde: I like that HG is confident. It helps us to be more confident, as well. That is why I often sound confident when I am discussing what I have learned from him. And Violetta: By saying that Socrates died by an over dose of Wedlock??? Violetta: You are about to set the institution of marriage back further than that raging radical anti-marriage feminist Gloria Steinem did, BEFORE she ran off and shockingly got married, drubbing her own anti-wedlock teachings. And MRS. Gloria barely missed being literally tarred and feathered by her millions of adherents, for marrying against her own infamous tenets. ( But, HG saved you, Violetta). Hopefully, many will not think of wedlock as hemlock I will just leave it at that.
PSE
Well I thought of it as hemlock first.
Nasty thing, hemlock.
The student put “wedlock.” Which kinda works, if you know anything about his relationship with his wife Xanthippe.
Violetta
And HOW do you pronounce that?
Violetta: What did Socrates` wife say? Sounds interesting.
“Oh no, I am all out of wedlock.”
She had the reputation of a shrew, even famously shrieking at Socrates from an upstairs window as he stood in the street, then emptying a chamber pot on his head. He quietly remarked to his friend, who had witnessed the whole thing, “After the thunder comes the rain.”
In her defense, she was terrified that if Socrates didn’t stop shooting off his mouth, the government would have him executed, which is exactly what happened. She either supplemented the budget by taking in laundry or covered it entirely; Socrates had some wealthy students, but I don’t know how much or if he charged, given his status as a philosopher.
Although Socrates was in his 70s, their children were young enough for Xanthippe to worry about their growing up without a father, so she was likely considerably younger. When he had been condemned to death, she sobbed at the unfairness of his being punished when he was innocent of any real crime, whereupon Socrates snapped, “Would you prefer that I was guilty?” and asked his students to get her out of the building so he could die in peace.
I don’t believe there was another dysfunctional literary marriage to approach it, at least until the Tolstoys.
Violetta
Extremely intresting! Goodness, you do learn on NS!
Dearest HG: hahaha. She was out of wedlock until Lorelei whispered into her ear about Amazon Prime and Overstock and Ebay, and also about their various delivery timeframes.
Violetta: Re: Socrates and His Wife: A Very painful and tragic history. Thank you for that information.
PSE: No problem.
His real crime was how he made his points. He didn’t just rant in the streets on whatever they used before soapboxes. They could have ignored him then. He’d ask a powerful, prominent citizen, “Do you believe in X?” (naming something that was societally approved).
Citizen: Well, of course.
Socrates: If you believe in X, you must also agree with Y.
Citizen: Naturally, Socrates.
This would continue until Socrates, step-by-step, had shown the citizen what he was really endorsing, which was usually something appalling. The citizen would mumble, “Very possibly true, Socrates, very possibly true,” and edge away.
NOBODY likes to be publicly unmasked as a fool.
Violetta
This reminds me very much of the Zeroth law in Physics. If A is in thermal equilibrium with B, and B is with C, then A and C are also at the same temperature.
I also make use of syllogisms to show people how endorsing Trump makes you a racist misogynist. I hope not to end up like Socrates though. At least I stay away from that practice in the blog, where emotions are high, for obvious reasons.
Renarde: I believe it’s Zan-TIP-ee.
Violetta
Cheers! I’m not sure if I’d have got that on my own. 💛
I always described his behaviour as cat & mouse, pawing the prey until nearly dead but never quite, so the rodent can recover for round 2, 3, 4 etc… not this little mousey..😁
This one has found a crack in the wall and legged it across the fields far away..
Thank you HG.. huge regard for your work, but not for who you are..
That’s fair enough.
PSE
You see? Not arrogant. You would never see that attitude from a L or M.
Beth—he may a really nice psychologist with a pond and a golden retriever..
I am not a psychologist. I do not have a pond (it is a lake).
I do not like animals. So, no golden retriever.
Animals are cute.
I disagree.
No, just envision an overly buttery shade of ivory in a sitting room accompanied by a big orange cat draped over furniture.. Relaxing and calm and all fuzzy and fabulous.
It is Buttermania.
Lorelei
“overly buttery Ivory” means it’s leaning yellow so it’s no longer Ivory, but Cream.
I see Colour Me Beautiful is in session!
Desirée—there are 101 shades of fucking ivory. It’s a pain in the ass. So, same with lime green but that’s another debacle.
Agree. It was a mistake just not really studying the swatch from Sherwin Williams. The biggest mess is a “dancing green” bathroom—google an image! It’s way granny apple green. On another note—why do I wear heels when I hate them? I’m a moron.
I should offer colour consultations. These subtle nuances can make all the difference. I would offer you them for free, but I know your knowledge of colour is already excellent.
Repose grey from Sherwin Williams is where it’s at—but I didn’t want to be overly trendy.
It’s a nightmare. Get’s worse when in-between shades are just categorized as “Ivory Cream” or “Cream Caramel” and so on. It sounds like a dessert, too. Thank god for Pantone Cards.
The cat blends into the butter. I’ll just change my gravatar to the damn cat just for you. He blends.
Lorelei
Thank you, I sincerely appreciate people showing me pictures of their cats, ’tis a long story. A beautiful shade of ginger. Yet I don’t see any butter. Is it grass-fed raw milk butter or storebought Kerrygold? There’s a world of difference in nutrition, taste and most importantly, colour.
I’ll post butter tomorrow—I’m getting ready to dance on a table.
Is that not what the mice do when the cats aren’t home?
Dearest HG: Is it possible to fish in the lake, and if so, do you know what fish is there? I like fishing, as long as the fish are smaller than I am…long story.
Yes. Yes.
And thusly, HG, we get to the very route of your James Corden hatred.
Hi Lorelei
My ‘cat’ still prowls on the hunt
I cannot go NC because I work with him and I will not change my job
He can go F*** himself with regard to that.
However, he no longer pushes my buttons..
I find it mildly amusing, tinged with the sadness of a spectator, watching him live his own personal car crash. Hey Ho..
my life goes on but I am quite satisfied he will never ‘play’ with me again.. I’m done and so much happier for it. It’s such a wonderful relief to be able to spectate and yet feel absolutely nothing regardless of all of his ‘programming’ from
The past.. with help from HG, 👏🏻, and personal efforts regarding my own emotional responses, dealing with my own demons in that respect, he no longer has any power over me whatsoever and it’s glorious.😁 all the best in your personal battle.. ☺️
My cat has no balls and no claws. His bathroom manners are better than a lesser. He did bring in a dead animal one day after sneaking out and that is his only infraction.
Lorelei, every time you speak about lessers I wonder what type of lower lessers you have met in your life. Mine is very civil, highly educated and physically yummy (despite his receding hairline). I can’t believe I’m defending him but I am just being fair. Mmmm…He also likes to clean his bathroom shirtless so that he can post pics on Facebook to show the world what a sanitary (while always sexy) husband he is. Asshole. On second thought, your cat may have better manners in the bathroom.
It’s ok, I’m referencing lower lessers. They are the funny ones. Lower middles not as funny. Upper lessers are fun.
Sweetest—to clarify more on lessers. Please recall my work. Inundated with the sorts that are on “Cops” sort of tv shows! The ones whose pants fall down as they evade officers jumping over fences. It’s a reality few experience on the level I do. I often inwardly shake my head. My ex was not a funny man. I was the more enchanting performer of the the duo that once was. One time though—we had a neighbor “Danny”—a moron. He mowed the lawn in wife beater shirts. (He later foreclosed on the property!) One day my ex actually exercised a funny of his own. He cut a shirt’s sleeves and walked in the room with a grin as he was impressed by his creation he was proudly modeling. It was the only funny thing he ever came up with. He was always uptight and boring.
Lorelie: I wonder what will be Pantones color of the year next year. Something strange happened to me, Lorelei. For some odd reason, the color Pink, for the first time in my life, looks good on me. It is so strange. I am still reflecting on this.
Black.
Or White.
PSE
it’s likely because you found a shade of pink that compliments your undertone and chroma. Good for you!
HG
there’s that black and white thinking at work. I’m voting fifty shades of grey. they had two colours before one time, why not expand a little bit?
Black and white works perfectly well, thank you
I look great in white. My best color. And as a female, I can wear white blouses to town. But, do not wear white in Venice today. They are having a muddy day, over there. Sigh….
I’ll be in Venice in March. No white?
Just your bikini
Never in a million years until I have my tummy tuck. I’ve given birth two dozen times. It’s flabby and gross. One piece all the way.
Planks. Work miracles.
Just looked it up, they actually determined Brilliant White and Navy Blazer as the classic shades for spring/summer NYFW. Seems like you’ll be good to go:
https://www.pantone.com/color-intelligence/fashion-color-trend-report/fashion-color-trend-report-new-york-spring-summer-2020
PSE
Sounds great, I’m sure you looked lovely! I remember giving some recommendations as well back then but I can’t remember which thread it was and there’s no way I would find it now. I think you made a good choice!
Thanks Desirée. I wore pearls so it was a win!
Lorelie: Check the news on Venice today, and take a peek at all the high water levels going on over there. Maybe the water will lower before you go over and everything will be dried out by March….it is pretty bad over there right now and tourists are having to wade through high water in high boots (and perhaps in Bikinis, as HG hinted). I caught the story on Venice on headline news around an hour ago. So, I guess they want everyone to know, at this point. And the part that I heard that tourists were wearing high boots to wade around to go about their vacation, caught my attention.
Tourists in high boots. Oh the hardship.
Yes I knew of the water issue! I knew what he meant but it made me think of my pouch. I don’t think planks will fix it. I need an operation—I want it in May so I’m off work half the summer. I had c-sections (breech) so it’s hard to just work it out. No bikini. I also look like hell in white because I’m a ghost. I abhor tanning.
When I started learning english as a child, I proudly called them “raining boots” because rain and raining is the same word in German and you wear them when it’s raining, right? Familial relationship narcissist laughed at me and told me not to get my feet wet and to put on my “raining coat” as well. My preadolescent self was mortified and I have worked my way around saying that word again ever since. Now I don’t know what to call my footwear and panic when I think about it. Can I just say high boots instead of you-know-what? That would change my life.
Do you have cute rain boots Desirée?
Desiree
Many people just call them rubber boots.
Desiree, I think calling them raining boots is adorable. Just call them that.
Dearest HG: Please. Tourists in high boots. Hahaha. Stop making me laugh, please. I am not used to laughing any more. And that QE1 reply will go in my record books. If ever I have to laugh on command, all I have to remember is that Qualitative Easing 1 is not a Narcissist and neither is the QE1 Ocean Liner a Narcississt, so they can not be Greeters. Hahahaha. I have to stop now. Before I hurt my spleen.
The Middle Lesser I knew is now married to a girl he met on Tinder after only knowing her 4 months. He had a kid out of wedlock with another girl before that and then dumped her for the Tinder girl.
On Tinder girl’s FB there is a cheesy photo of them sitting in fall colored leaves each of them holding a toddler that was made by a previous relationship. So if you didn’t know it, you’d think they had 2 kids together. He likes to portray himself as the ‘family man’ and the ‘good dad’ and on his Instagram he uses a 15 yr old buff photo of himself. He is such an idiot.
Taking pics while cleaning a bathroom? Pathetic.
My cat has no balls but he has been having stress and one of the side effects is shitting where he should not be. It has been a testament of love for him, albeit frustrating. Took him to the vet and he seems better at the moment. Hopefully the wrongful shitting stops.
I do clean it right away and use all the fancy spray and I don’t even take shirtless photos of myself doing it!
I enjoy wearing all colors.
Bibi—I want more emerald green and red.
I went into a boutique store about a year ago with this older lady that chided the thought of anyone in only black and white. ‘Wear color!’ She said. I bought this purple Mexican shirt that on the display had a bright light green necklace. I thought the combo looked great.
I like a lot of color. I bought a nice black shirt not too long ago but I wear it with deep blue beads. So I always try to add something so I don’t resemble a corpse.
I used to wear mostly black and drab colors when I was in my 20s. It’s just boring. I got rid of all that stuff.
Who cares though? Wear what you like.
NarcAngel
I thought “rubber boots” was just a euphemism
Oh no—it’s a thing. And think of this quandary—they are rather heavy when packing 40 lbs in a suitcase. It’s always a cluster F*** for Lorelei to stay under weight on accessories for trips. Sometimes the weight limits are under 50 lbs internationally and it’s always such a damn hassle.
Desiree
Those are just rubbers here. I’ve heard them called Wellies also (boots not the other). Make up your own. Puddle plunderers? Muckers?
Lorelei
I do. They are a glossy oxblood red, very satisfying. Perhaps I should just get over myself and start calling them by their name. I can overcome anything.
On second thought just call them your Hunters as that’s what they are.
Desiree. When I lived in the MIdwest, we called them rain-boots. No need to say rubber, at all. Some called them galoshes. I never liked how galoshes sounded. Not aesthetic to my ear. So, I stuck with rain boots.
I’m in the Midwest and they are rainboots!
I think “galoshes” is not the same thing, at least in my language it means short overshoes you wear over boots to keep the boots dry.
And btw, brits: is it Hunter Wellies or Wellington Hunters?
Galoshes is a great word.
Hunter Boots. You may say Hunter Wellies.
I do have two pairs of another brand but I don’t wear them as they are aesthetically displeasing and no longer match my colour scheme. Please don’t tell them I said that. I love them for their inner values and do not wish to hurt their feelings. But I will throw them out sooner or later.
PSE, I just had to look up what galoshes are and am still not sure I know the answer. Why are they clipped to the side like that?
Desiree—I’ve thrown out all aesthetically displeasing any and everything I think. The walls are being fixed today. I couldn’t stand it another day. Then, once again, all will be well in the castle.
Lorelei:
The dead animal was a gift to YOU.
You ingrate.
Desiree. I never have looked up the meaning of rain-boots, raincoats, nor galoshes. They are just regular words that are part of my native language cultural usage. And I would never say that I have on galoshes, anyway, no matter how they are defined by various dictionaries, so I still have no need to look the work up, but HG likes the word galoshes, by the way. By gosh. And he does have to deal with a lot of rain. Like people in Alaska probably like the names of various snow shoes. And I would probably just say, I need some snow-shoes, in the beginning.
I looked for snow boots on Nordstrom Rack this morning.