Ignoring the Haters is Leaving Half the Passion on the Table

Just a quickie, in advance of Part 2 of the post on how obligate carnivores like African cats, hyenas, wild pack-hunting dogs, and wolves get more carbs than the ketogenic, VLC, and even some of the LC crowd. BTW, you’ve all see bears chow down on wild blueberries, but have you see wolves eating berries?

Anyway, perhaps you recall that Dave “Bulletproof Executive” Asprey weighed in on resistant starch a while back. Not sure how it turned out for him though I heard he stopped it as reported in a podcast, but I didn’t really care, even slightly; he has my email. He’s an N=1 that lots of people take as an N=1 million. Lucky for him, I guess. I figure my own experience is worth the weight of only about N=10 or so. That comment thread has been dead for a while until an email this morning noticing a new comment from anonymous hater, Ritual.

See, I’m always compelled to nurture the haters because of their value to me. So read and learn.

your ego is big for sure and you seem to have no humility … People on your forum may say they like you but, believe it or not, a lot of people hate you for good reasons. […] And for the RS enema, are you serious ? If you’re serious, i need you should see a psychiatrist.

First reply:

Yawn.

First, my blog is more popular than ever. Did you see the comment Dr. William Davis posted last night? Let me answer that: no, you didn’t.

Moreover, you will not find a single mention of advocating an RS enema from me in post or comments. It was an MD who did it to himself as an experiment. But I’m sure you knew that. Which is why you failed to mention it, pinning it on me instead.

You know what they say about haters, right? I’m sure you do.

Have an ice day.

Then, I remembered how much I love the haters and am kind of missing them, lately.

…OK, Ritual, since I’m in a very good mood as is most days by far, now, let me give you a little lesson.

You seem to operate from a premise that I’m bothered by the obvious fact that a lot of people hate me. Open your mind a bit and consider possible motivations. What if, unlike most others, I don’t make much of a distinction between love and hate? What if I simply look at all of it as passion and don’t bother much with the two-sides-of-the-same-coin distinction? What if I think that seeking only love leaves half of the passionate people on the table?

I’m sure you thought that all out, didn’t you?

Indifference is what kills, not passion. Some love me because of who else hates me and some hate me because of who else loves me but to me, it’s all just a soup of passion.

That said, I’m torn. I’ve gone to great lengths over the years, even to the level of trolling my own blog, Twitter and Facebook so that I always have a good supply of haters on board. You can count on them for energy where lovers sometimes just sit back and bask.

Since I see everything everywhere, either via Google alerts or people shooting me links, some of my cherished haters are finding themselves in corners where former haters have just had to come out and admit, and put it out publicly that I’m doing ground-breaking stuff on the blog in areas of the gut biome, resistant starch as food, and now even the pretty substantial level of carbohydrate obligate carnivores get via fresh kills through liver and tissue glycogen that degrades rapidly. Fresh kills eaten raw are not zero carb by any stretch.

I’m sure you read that post and know all about it, though (it’s the one Dr. Davis commented on).

Anyway, there you go. See, I nourish and pet my haters all the time. Don’t know what I’d do without them.

Have a nice day.

Alright, let me get to work on publishing Part 2 of Duckie’s Revelations.

Update: I’m reminded of the aftermath of AHS11 at UCLA. Bea and I drove back after it ended, stopped at a place for dinner and continued on down to Vista to her parents’ place, who’d been doggie sitting. We got there, ’round 11, just after they had returned from a night out with Bea’s bro who’s my same age, and his very beautiful wife. They’re not big drinkers. Not this night, though. I was sober amongst drunks.

The sister-in-law proceeded to open up to me, across the table, telling my in spitting words how much she used to hate me. “I HAAAAATED YOU!” I lafed. She doesn’t, anymore. Indifference is far harder to overcome—never worth even trying. Hate turns to love pretty easily.