A submission from one of my readers, “Martina Carroll” (I use inverted commas because my email reply bounced back, so I can’t verify if this is his/her actual name).
“His failed political views are reviled by the country and his political aspirations went nowhere. He reposts his old blog posts endlessly, because for him new thoughts and ideas are difficult at this point in his life. The posts are characterised by a curious absence of comments. Standalone bathroom stall echo chambers.
The world bewilders him. He pines for a time in history when he might have been respected, but no such time ever existed. He wanted to be a successful author and make regular appearances slobbering and lisping on radio programmes to spread his simple views. But none of that was even close to getting off of the ground.
His primeval ways are summarised by his ridiculous little beard, which he grows to remind him of his youth when he had sexual vitality, when he was in the game. It explains his ape-like hatred of all people under 35. His wife might tug it affectionately and it makes him feel like a man.
His isolated corner on the web is safe from public interaction and criticism. Sure better things are written for the local paper, so why should anybody care?
What’s so missing from his life? Why is he shifting his own failures on to others? A lost soul with no chance for a different future for himself, his decisions in life now irreversible with what little time he has left. A man with no warmth or compassion. Ah, but don’t blame him bitterness. It’s all he has left.”