You doubtless recollect these papers. Here they are. Everything is related in them which bears reference to my accursed origin; the whole detail of that series of disgusting circumstances which produced it is set in view; the minutest description of my odious and loathsome person is given, in language which painted your own horrors and rendered mine indelible. I sickened as I read. “Hateful day when I received life!” I exclaimed in agony. “Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even YOU turned from me in disgust?…Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed?”

— The Creature, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus


Some of us figured that out a long time ago, not that it was particularly difficult. And while I find it funny to imply Spencer being the anguished Creature raging against his creators in the media, in actuality, I’m sure he’s delighted with all they’ve done to help. The anger should be ours, rather. Never forget that these irresponsible morons, these superficial dilettantes posing as journalists, these historical illiterates with their ridiculously self-indulgent “democracy dies in darkness!!!” masturbatory emo hysterics, did their best for the last couple of years to inflate an American “Nazi” movement, which would struggle to fill one small concert venue with all its members combined, into the great Confrontation With Evil of our time. And why? Out of boredom? Out of a need to meet a word count? Out of the pathetic yearning of a bunch of soft, redundant weaklings to participate in something exciting, dangerous, and historically significant? From established mainstream media down to partisan clickwhore sites run by gum-popping adolescents, they all played their role, and they all deserve undying contempt.