Arguments Worth Having

Art = Absurdity = Provocation = Contemplation = Wisdom = Love

Mr. Destructo vs. Mr. Powell

with one comment

A little more than a week after Christopher Hitchens died, this: “Burn in Hell, Christopher Hitchens” (6,300+ words). The site’s (Mr. Destructo) author, no Voltaire, evidently hatefucked Hitchens for years but conveniently waited until death. Had the article addressed a live Hitchens, with a title like  “Dear Cancer, Take Hitchens Now!” well, THAT would have shown risk. But cowards do as cowards do. Thus I commented:

“Anonymity makes sense if you’re a Chinese dissident or a Syrian activist, but not if you’re an armchair blogger. If you guys want to be wiseguys, well, fair enough. But why not change your IDs, add your real names, keep your nicknames, and show your balls.”

 – Caleb “Henry Kissing-and-Fucking-her” Powell

Bring it on:  And so I received an Internet roast:  Amazing Gaze: The Western Eyes of Soulful Scribbler Caleb Powell. Funny stuff from the Mr. Destructos, though they ramble long after point (6,000+ word essays containing 1,000 salient words the norm). Of the two (if they’re indeed two), “Mobutu Sese Seko” has shed anonymity (he’s lovable but a quasi-zero, not sure why he hid in the first place), but “General Rehavam ‘Gandhi’ Ze’evi” keeps his pseudonym, wielding pabulum such as “There is a Powellful discovery.” Here’s Ze’evi’s diatribe:

Ze’evi –  “The holidays are long over. Liquor sales have stabilized; few of the year-end suicides remain undiscovered, and, if you are like me, you have a major haul of gifted books. Stacked on my bedside table, towering over my bloated, holly-jolly frame, the books are a leering accusation: “You’re like all the others,” sniffs The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman. “Just direct me to the bookshelf best situated to intimidate your landlord.”

As I limply cast aside the hose of my opium huqqa, ash sprinkling the datemaki sash of my authentic silken Nipponese kimono, I despair: literature is dead. Then suddenly, there is a change. There is a Powellful discovery. Who is Caleb Powell? A question I pondered not two weeks ago — now I have some sense of the answer, of an author who asserted himself in my mind’s eye. Thus far, his vision has been inscribed only within a few brave avant garde presses, like Prick of the Spindle, Yankee Pot Roast, and ZYZZYVA. I aim to change this…” (read all 2,400 words here)

Well played, Ze’evi, despite or because of the corny elements. I look forward to worthier challenges going forward.


UPDATE:  I forwarded to Mr. Destructo via Facebook. Here’s his response.

Mr. Destructo:  This guy Bro_Pair wrote about in 2012 (with one or two lines of mine thrown in) is still real mad and apparently finally found that great zinger. I’d leave them up, but apparently he keeps posting these and deleting them over and over.

You be the judge:  “Bro_Pair” or Mobutu/Ze’evi/Mr. Destructo = same dorkbag. Check out Dorkstructo’s FB page for teenagesque LMAO-usage w/o restraint. The guy seems baffled (as “baffled” as I am “mad”) that a guy could cache a draft for two years and post, or GADZOOKS, write a comment and take it down. His self-indulgent glorified blog vs mine replicates “vast chunk of time” vs. “hobby.” Destructo used to write 100+ posts a year, now hasn’t written in almost two months. His latest on Rob Ford, “Let Them Eat Pussy,” ironically, has five comments, all anonymous. Mr. Destructo wasn’t exactly destined to go straight to the top and stay there.


Written by Caleb Powell

January 4, 2014 at 7:57 am

One Response

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  1. Ironically this is an argument not worth anything.

    Tristan Hagen

    January 6, 2014 at 9:50 am

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