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  • James 07:26 on October 15, 2021 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , baby James, deception, , How to be a psychopath, , , ,   

    How to cry on cue… 

    …whenever you need to

    Boo hoo hoo! From toddler tantrums to sophisticated pity play, knowing how to cry at the drop of a hat is a cornerstone of any manipulator’s arsenal. Read on to learn how to get those tears to flow. You’ll weep with gratitude, I promise.

    Practice makes perfect with this one. A mirror and a well-lit room are your friends. Perfect your cry face first as, believe it or not, this is the hard part. Make sure it looks natural by comparing it to real crying episodes as well as the work of skilled actors. In general, it is the whole face (not just the mouth) which sags when somebody is sad enough to cry, so bear this in mind. Put in any sound effects you want at this stage, sobbing, sniffing, shuddering et al. While you are doing this, you may find real tears come naturally. If this is the case, congratulations! You have just manipulated yourself. If not, don’t sweat it, as tears are easy enough to generate by slowing down your blinking to about one every ten seconds. When you feel those tears welling up, blink once to let them fall. If you blink more than once you risk drying your eyes out again (this is after all one of the functions of the eyelid).

    As already noted, this requires practice in order to improve. Soon, you will not need nearly as long for tears to come, and you are free to turn those waterworks on and off like a tap (or “faucet”, as I’m told you Americans call them, because why the hell not).

    Take a look at this toddler’s funny and not-at-all manufactured hysterics. A budding psychopath in the making, perhaps? BTW, that photo kid’s resemblance to me at that age is uncanny, right down to the stripey 90s fashion statement.

    Caption Contest – enter your submission below

    My attempt: “Hey, I heard turtle neck sweaters are coming back in too”


    Holly “Cargo” Harrison manages to squeeze a lone tear out at the 2:56 mark. Take note as a singularity in this path’s lifelong path…
  • James 10:25 on August 30, 2015 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , baby James, British bragging rights, , , , compassion, , fox news, , , , remember-remember, revenge, , skyfoogle,   

    Random musings of a psychopath II: childhood memories 

    Along the same lines as Part I, but I’ve ditched the freakier elements of the ‘stream of consciousness’ style, which I think was unpopular. Here are some select memories from my childhood (all 5 – 11 years old)

    • In primary school I waged war on another kid in my class just because he had the nerve to also be called Jamie (which was my ‘cute little boy*’ name growing up). He became the target of frequent bullying and turned into one of the weird loner kids in high school. At the same time, I insisted my cousin Jamie (who is a good seven years older than me so kind of already had the dibs) be called Jim at all times when I was present. Even nowadays, whenever I encounter other people with the names James or Jamie, I can’t help but feel a certain heightened antipathy toward them just because they are using ‘my name’. Stupid I know.
    • My birthday is 5th November, which is a holiday in England commemorating the thwarting of the Gunpowder Plot to blow up Parliament (and the king of the day with it, who incidentally was James I. Come to think of it, it’s the 410th anniversary of the whole shabang this year, reminding us all that England’s democracy is hella old). This means that each year my birthday is marked by fireworks displays and huge community bonfires up and down the land. You can imagine how this fed into the ego of a budding psychopath. I was 10 or 11 before I knowingly met someone with the same birthday, and I reacted in much the same way as with the name thieves. She was a bitch, and she had a stupid name; Ailsa Winter. Now I think of it years later, it’s a pretty name really isn’t it? Quite literary. I wonder if she’s pretty too. Time to look her up on Facebook.
    • *By all accounts I was a cute little boy. For the first six years of my life I was blond, hardly ever cried or had tantrums, had good manners and was irrepressibly talkative. I was apparently also very bossy and emotionally manipulative, but that’s by the by. At the age of six I discovered lying and from then until about eight or nine (when the other kids finally caught up) I never understood why nearly all of my classmates would own up to doing ‘bad things’, or dutifully go home and tell their mums they’d been punished. “What idiots,” I would think, “don’t they know they can get away with anything if they just keep their mouths shut or invent a story?”
    • The same year, we had a terrible class teacher (who had a nervous breakdown by Christmas and had to leave, not as a result of any of us I might add) followed by a brilliant one (the headmistress of the school). I’m sure we did actual learning too, but my abiding memory is of the headteacher reading us lots of poems by Michael Rosen. They were hilarious for any six year old to listen to, especially when our teacher substituted the characters’ names for kids in the class. If you know any children around that age, make sure they become acquainted with Rosen. If you / they can’t be bothered actually reading something, he performs all his poems on YouTube these days.


    Me at age six.

    • Also at the age of six, I hospitalised my friend due to an experiment whereby I was trying to see how many pebbles from the sandpit would fit inside his ear. Not that many, it turned out.
    • There was this boy Cameron who had behavioural problems (looking back, possibly ADHD but I had no clue at the time) and whom I loved winding up, to get him into trouble, but also because ‘Cameron wound up’ was a spectacle to behold. Think tantrums that made the classroom look like a bomb had gone off. I especially liked doing this at lunch, because this really fat no-nonsense lunchtime supervisor would go nuts at him for anything, which would trigger him to lose control and run away in a rage. So I goaded him into hitting me, then went and told Mrs Fatty, which I think was her name. Of course, he ran off, so she would then have to chase him through the corridors, breaking objects and hitting students, catch him and physically restrain him on the floor with her flabby bulk while she waited for the teachers to help her. The memories of these ridiculous scenes still bring a smile to my face.
    • There was another boy, Michael, with far more serious problems than Cameron due to a brain defect which made him kind of thick as well as being unable to regulate his emotions at all. Any time a teacher raised her voice to anyone in the class, this would set Michael off crying hysterically. He even cried when his name featured in the Michael Rosen poetry readings. I took him under my wing for several years, treated him as a friend, defended him from any bullying he might have endured, and even comforted him whenever he was in tears (several times a day). He was a curiosity to me, so different, so unfathomable, I was fascinated. But as everyone grew up, Michael sort of didn’t, and by the end of Year 4 (nine years old) he was no longer interesting. The crying was old hat. What’s more, fear and intolerance toward disability (which I didn’t and still don’t share, but it is important to reflect societal norms in your outward behaviour, lest you yourself be an outcast) was turning most of the so-called empathetic children against him, so I let him go.
    • Despite being thin and nerdy for quite a few years, I was never the target of bullying. Or to put it more accurately a succession of would-be bullies tried to target me once and never dared to have a second go. I dragged one of them along the ground through a lot of stinging nettles and pushed him head first into a active fox den. He came out all scratched and a bit chewed. Another ‘slipped’ on a patch of ice at the top of some steps. He walked away with a dislocated shoulder and a weird neck.

    Cute Baby Fox

    Baby Swiper says: “Leave a comment below, or I’ll go through your bins  and find something to blackmail you with.”

    • Amaterasu Solar 16:23 on August 30, 2015 Permalink | Reply

      I was one of those kids everyOne picked on. I was nowhere near as assertive and uncaring of what Others think of Me then as I am now. In reading this, My heart went out to the Ones You provoked – a response I suspect You might struggle to identify with… Still, I appreciate Your (apparent) openness about who and what You are. I can also put Myself in Your shoes, as it were.

      Very interesting read.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Anonymous 08:50 on August 31, 2015 Permalink | Reply

        Thanks, Amy. I can identity with your reaction, even if I don’t understand it. James.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Amaterasu Solar 21:59 on September 1, 2015 Permalink | Reply

          In truth, one of the most difficult things I battled with is accepting the fact that, no matter how much I want to impart a grasp of compassion to psychopaths, I cannot. Almost paradoxical, it is, for it is My compassion which drives My desire to impart… LOL!

          Liked by 1 person

    • James 04:05 on September 2, 2015 Permalink | Reply

      Back as myself. How hard have you tried, Amy? With me, you haven’t done anything to impart a grasp of compassion. Try me.


      • Amaterasu Solar 11:00 on September 2, 2015 Permalink | Reply

        Dear One, I reach out with My heart – for that is where compassion comes from. It is not in words that I try to impart. If I could touch Your breast, I would give it My best go. But I have tried this before with Others, and They feel nothing of what I give. Still, should any psychopath ask, I will surely try again. But over the web is more of a trick. [smile]

        Liked by 1 person

    • James 12:03 on September 2, 2015 Permalink | Reply

      There’s a bit of a poet in you, isn’t there? Perhaps to prove your point further, compassion comes from the brain, not the heart. Can you find it in your heart / brain to give details on your past experience?

      Liked by 1 person

      • Amaterasu Solar 08:48 on September 3, 2015 Permalink | Reply

        Many have said I am a poet… I feel the compassion in My heart and My mind then contemplates action… Not much to tell – I had a friend who turned out to be a psychopath. I would try to impart the ability to feel compassion, including through direct contact, but He never caught any of it. Others I have tried at distances, though not as fervently. In none of the cases did My efforts amount to a hill of beans.

        Liked by 1 person

        • James 12:55 on September 3, 2015 Permalink | Reply

          Did you manage to maintain that friendship for a while? I disagree that there’s not much to tell, I am very interested to know what exactly you tried to do, how he reacted, whether he showed any sin of understanding what you were trying to do, and much more than I can list here. Please, if you can bear to impart more of your poetic wisdom to me, I am sure it would deepen our friendship (or stop me from bugging you, whichever you prefer 😊)

          Liked by 1 person

          • Amaterasu Solar 14:48 on September 3, 2015 Permalink | Reply

            He was a friend I met up with at a scifi convention years ago. We met at several and He confided to Me His difference. I do not know why He seemingly trusted Me, but He did. I suggested trying some energy workings of sorts. I reached out from My heart. My impressions were that I passed right through Him. I could feel Him there but there was no place to plug into and the energy kept going on.

            He seemed minorly disappointed and soon got bored of the experiments. We moved on.

            Liked by 1 person

            • James 15:13 on September 3, 2015 Permalink | Reply

              Trustworthiness; must be your face. I’ve got one too. My frank assessment of your attempts would be that your “energy ” doesn’t really exist 😊 You moved on from each other or you moved on to other things to do together? What scifi are you in to?


              • Amaterasu Solar 10:45 on September 4, 2015 Permalink | Reply

                Well, interestingly, many non psychopaths I reach out to have showed signs or even said They could feel something, and I don’t get a sense of passing right through, either. But try & convince a psychopath of that… [wink]

                We moved to other topics at the time, and I don’t think We saw each Other after that convention.

                I was very into the hard-core stuff – Heinlein, Asimov, Ellison, Forward, Silverberg, LeGuin, and so many more. Just now I am more fascinated with the scifi story the psychopaths in control are writing and performing in the world around Me.


                • James 11:35 on September 4, 2015 Permalink | Reply

                  Well I have an open mind, so I accept there is maybe more to it than I understand, though it sounds a good deal like a “healing through prayer” experience or a ‘psychic’ con.
                  Hmm, that is hard-core, I won’t pretend to know about most of their works in detail. Isn’t the modern-day political story more fantasy than scifi? ☺


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