I hereby announce this book is dedicated to my God, Super God.

      The toughest God of all.

      How many books the regular Lord got?

      One less now, bitch.

      Contents

      Foreword:The Greatest Generation

      Prologue: The Reluctant Anti-Hero

      Chapter 1 The Matrix Retarded

      Chapter 2 Amateur Physician, Sicken Thyself

      Chapter 3 Ron Paul Has a Posse

      Chapter 4 Otherkin—Dragonkin

      Chapter 5 Otherkin—Elfkin

      Chapter 6 Fanfic

      Chapter 7 Ill-Suited for the Pursuit of Fursitters

      Chapter 8 Old Friends and New Enemies

      Chapter 9 Vores

      Chapter 10 Welcome to the New Hate

      Chapter 11 The End

      Epilogue

      Acknowledgments

      Everything in this book is completely true.

      And awesome.

      Foreword: The Greatest Generation

      by James Joyce

      Hello! This is James Joyce, famous Irish novelist and maybe Nobel Prize winner. When my dear friend Zack Parsons asked me to write a foreword for his new book shortly before my death in 1941, I was flattered. Though the manuscript would not be completed within my lifetime, I left this world with the utmost confidence that it would be every bit the equal of my finest works, which include Portrait of the Young Man and The Odyssey. Now, some six decades later, his work is finally complete. Though I’m not alive to enjoy it—

      This Joyce conceit is already running out of steam, so I’m just going to drop it before you throw the book down in disgust; save that for later, because this thing gets much worse. I was just trying to get my foot in the door by pretending to be someone respectable, but really I’m only David Thorpe, one of the author’s detestable toadies.

      Zack Parsons and I are members of the Greatest Generation (I’m stepping on the toes of some veterans here, but they’re mostly dead anyway) : we came of age before the rise of the Web, but got to it young enough to adapt. We now serve as an essential bridge between our parents’ generation, which has no instinctive understanding of the Internet, and the up-and-coming youth, who are so retarded by memes that they’re practically incoherent. One day, we’ll all have high-paying jobs as translators, explaining to the elderly what their young doctor means by “guy is p sick, idk wtf is wrong w/him, recommend can haz 2 aspirun and chillax, kthxbai.”

      Having lived in both worlds, we’re the only ones who will ever see the Internet in its true context. Those who never lived without it take its weirdness for granted, and older people tend to view it with grouchy Luddite distrust, quaint ineptitude, or embarrassing, ponytailed “look kids, I’m Twittering from my bicycle” techno-utopianism. Then there are those right-wing fringe loonies who, despite the fact that the Internet puts the totality of human wisdom at our fingertips, condemn it as a force of perversion and evil.

      We of the Greatest Generation know the real story: the fringe loonies are absolutely right, and we love it. If the Internet is any kind of accurate representation of the human psyche, our species deserves swift extermination. It’s a godless wasteland of insanity and grotesquerie, and in the time it takes you to read this sentence, a million children will be exposed to material more perverse than the Marquis de Sade could imagine in his ugliest fever dreams. It’s terrifying to consider how it will warp their minds; it’s a rootin’-tootin’ Wild West of outlaw id, and it’s horrifyingly reconditioning a generation’s perceptions of what’s normal.

      The social consequences are already here: in just a couple of decades, the Internet has totally revolutionized the weirdo industry. In the olden days, sex weirdos had to indulge their seedy desires in shame and secrecy, delving into the George C. Scott Hardcore subculture of back-alley fetish clubs and underground mail-order catalogs. Now there’s Google Image Search, and a picture of a seven-foot Amazon shemale crushing a condor egg with her thighs is just a mouse-click away. What was once a risky, shameful pursuit is now fast, convenient, and anonymous.

      And weirdo fetish porn isn’t even the craziest part, or the part that will have the most profound effect on society. The weirdo intellect is also being reshaped, refined, and legitimized by the massive worldwide weirdo network that is the Web. Consider the following example:

      Let’s say you think you’re a dragon.

      Years ago, you’d probably bury your regal dragon shame deep inside, fearing that anyone who found out your terrible secret would think you were off your rocker. Desperate for answers, you might go see a therapist about it, and he would likely use words like “delusions of grandeur” and strongly urge you to reconsider your idea that you’re a dragon. Through years of painful electroshock therapy and mind-numbing medication, you might kill the dragon inside you and begin a productive life as a drooling, ruined human being.

      It’s much easier nowadays. Just type the words “I am a dragon” into Google, and you’ll instantly be dumped at the “Draconity FAQ,” written by a dragon named Baxil, which explains everything you need to know about being a dragon. With a long list of convenient answers to common queries like “Are you crazy?” and “Isn’t believing you’re a dragon escapism?” the FAQ assures fledgling dragons that they’re not alone, and that their perception of reality is just as valid as anyone else’s. Instead of rejecting their draconity and trying to cure it through therapy, they can embrace it, and maybe even “come out” to their parents, friends, and bosses.

      If you dig a little deeper, you can find one of the many online Dragonkin communities. Now you can hang out with your fellow dragons and reinforce your beliefs among a group of people who won’t challenge you or call you crazy, because that would be a bummer. Instead of trying to adapt to your yucky human body, you can immerse yourself deeper and deeper into the dragon identity until it’s so entrenched that you start hissing at people on the street.

      Of course, the dragon thing is just one example among a thousand in the Internet’s wide, wonderful weirdo rainbow. Deep inside, you might be an angel, an elf, a big sexy ostrich, a wizard, an anime character, a cannibal, a holocaust denier, or a Ron Paul supporter; whatever your wacky bent, there’s a dozen communities out there where you can insulate yourself among like-minded freaks until you’re convinced that you’re normal and everyone else is just unfairly persecuting you, denying your God-given right to identify as an anime Nazi dragon.

      The Greatest Generation knows that the Internet isn’t just perverse and obscene: it’s actively creating crazy people. Isn’t it great? It is like Caligula’s brain swimming around in a fish tank. We don’t want to jump in, but holy shit, we sure do love to tap on the glass.

      PROLOGUE

      The

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