The surreal victory of Donald Trump and the dying Left's petulant, willful refusal to understand his wide appeal have preoccupied me for the last several months. I loved Trump from the beginning of his campaign. He arrived at a time when the forces of leftist extremism, censorship, and schizophrenic postmodern identity politics seemed destined to take over permanently. I felt utterly isolated and alone as I saw my closest friends transform into New World Order automatons. The successive string of liberal-instigated moral panics, reminiscent of the Satanic ritual abuse scandals of the 1980s, whirred down the media assembly line with startling speed. The coordinated erasure of the South was one, with scare campaigns about Confederate flags, Gone With the Wind, and endless calls for the dismantling of Confederate monuments on college campuses and renaming of streets. The revival of 1990s notions of a pervasive "rape culture" on college campuses was another, culminating in the exposure of Rolling Stone's Michelle Remembers-esque campus rape cover story as a total fabrication. The Left, flailing under the weight of its pseudoreligious and nonsensical belief that women are incapable of lying about rape, had no idea who to blame.
Trump's realism about Islamic terrorism, contrasted with the Democrat party's juvenile, bratty promotion of Islam because of its anti-American, globalist implications, was a breath of fresh air for me. The tragic Orlando gay nightclub massacre was immediately whitewashed of its overt Islamic religiousness by censorious liberals, who rerouted the blame to guns, "whiteness," "toxic masculinity," and other conceptual turds dropped by Marxist lesbian academics. Contrary to leftist wisdom, it is not at all unreasonable to wish that immigration laws be enforced at a time when a worldwide crisis of religiously motivated terrorism is sweeping the nation. It is intellectually sound, as a homosexual, to vote against the large-scale importation of primitive religious fundamentalists who outlaw and persecute homosexuality in every country in which they comprise the majority. Regardless, most Millennials see Christians as the real threat, despite the tiresome anti-Christian message of the entire mainstream media, and despite that majority Christian countries have shown more tolerance for homosexuality in the twenty-first century than any civilization at any time in history. But no--not when there are scandals over gay wedding cakes to invent and instigate; not when there is a multiplying list of made-up transgender identities to batter sensible citizens over the head with.
I returned to Facebook for several months specifically to voice my support for Trump, specifically because it was forbidden, specifically because it was something you were not supposed to publicly admit to. I wanted every person in my social circle to think of me when they made catty generalizations about the intellectual inferiority and various "isms" and "phobias" of Trump supporters. I also wanted it on the record that I supported Trump when it really cost something--jobs, friends, respect--to do so. I was deleted and shunned by innumerable liberals with whom I had had nothing but friendly relations in the past. Hilariously, most of them waited until the results of election came in. They, like the mainstream media, did not take Trump supporters as a threat, then frantically attempted to punish me after their mediocre and widely hated candidate lost. One friend, a rare person tolerant of different viewpoints in his social circles, told me that I was the only person in his life who made him aware that Trump had a possibility of winning. This was exactly the purpose I aimed for by publicizing my love of Trump--I wanted to stick in the craw of liberals who thought their social circles were ideologically pure and cause them to think, long and hard, about what they believed in.
My travails on Facebook during the election made me realize how deeply I need a more receptive audience in order to continue writing with purpose. On Facebook, I expended a lot of effort on transmitting my ideas to people I knew "IRL" that were not open to a wide range of thinking, and they ended up either blocking or deleting me. Conversely, I have received quite a lot of positive feedback over the years from strangers for my blog and my perfume reviews littered on Fragrantica and Basenotes. I receive at least one email a month about my Angel review, which I wrote more than six years ago, and I was happy to find my writing recommended on a Basenotes thread about perfume conoisseurs in the style of Luca Turin.
"BN fruitdiet who has some really hilarious, left field reviews (right wing nut alert, def not PC ), I wish he'd write more."
"Another +One for Jack Mason. Very NSFW blog, and his FruitDiet reviews here on BN are hilarious."
"+1 for Jack Mason's Civet Cinema - one of my favorites (as long as one is okay with provocative stuff). He doesn't write often, but he's always interesting when he does. More than just a fragrance blog, in my opinion."
These compliments mean the world to me, and make me want to get over my chronic laziness and become an actual writer. I don't want to go to the grave as someone with potential whose service industry jobs murdered his artistic drive. The myopic tunnel of Facebook instills the idea that there is no audience for what I say. I want to be remembered for my mind, and I want something permanent to come out of it. I need others like myself to exchange ideas and collaborate with. Please, if my writing has sparked something in you, or if you have recognized some of yourself in me, reach out. Let's create something new.