You've basically been doing mental masturbation all over the thread, so it was a very fitting comment. Perhaps it was too subtle for you, my apologies if that's the case.
The comment about "Lost" seems very apropos. Reading your posts through the thread is a rollercoaster, you dart all over the place, making little sense, burning caricatures of that which you dislike or not even try to understand (namely science, society, and anyone foolish enough to get within range of your salvo apparently). You, sir, are acting like a crazy castaway who has spent too much time at sea.
At some point you must have been riding on a cruiser, floating safely and full speed ahead towards a destination you didn't know much about, but excited you. Little by little you lost some of that excitement. Why, what's this, I am barely finding anything interesting here. Captain! Change course! You started zigzagging, looking for something else. And instead of what you expected, you found a submerged mine.
Boom! The boat – your reality – shattered at some point. But what did you do afterwards? You could have jumped into a life boat, try to see from outside what state the cruiser was in and what you had hit to understand it better. But no, you held on with desperate obstinacy to your sinking boat.
Fool, save yourself! Jump to the lifeboat!
Not a chance, you refused to do so, and continued lashing at the battered hull with all your might, driving it into one mine after another. At the end of it, you found yourself floating in the middle of the ocean, alone, surrounded by broken bits and pieces of flotsam and wreckage.
So what did you do? You clung to whatever you could grab, and made a raft with the pieces you could salvage, precariously tying them together with a bit of string here or a piece of rope there, with a meagre supply of possessions you managed to salvage from the sinking of your precious cruiser.
That's not the real problem, oh no. A drowning man that clings to something that floats is only natural.
The problem is that you have spent too much time alone in your raft, clinging to the broken bits with desperation. After all that, you've started to have delusions about what it is exactly you're cruising the sea on. You no longer see a raft, you see a grandiose transatlantic cruiser, the likes of which have never been seen. Only your boat can navigate this ocean, no, this universe safely. People are too ignorant to see this! The grandeur!
You bark at people who tell you that is nothing but a raft. You snarl in contempt when you see other boats passing. You are too deluded to step onto an island you pass by, or another boat you come across, to take a look at your flotation device from the outside and see it for what it is, and lack the industriousness necessary to improve it with the tools at your disposal from the inside.
When you come across a new piece of flotsam, an object that may prove useful, you look at it with disinterest, only seeing the small part above water and making hasty (and often erroneous, see: science, society, and anyone foolish enough to get within range of your salvo) conclusions, without really trying to understand what that floating object actually is, about its use and lack of utility for you, or anyone else for the matter. That is, anyone else with an ounce of the superior knowledge you are so sure to possess.
Quite frankly, do not be surprised if others give you unkind answers when you growl at them, or thump on your raft to demonstrate the solidity of its construction over that of their boats. But at the end of the day, the only thing you truly deserve is pity. Worse than ignorant, you are willfully ignorant. And that's just too much trouble to try and cure.
