This piece is about a spectacularly narcissistic young feminist, Lissie Seattle – possibly a pseudonym – who attempted to gain entry to the Detroit conference. She’d previously posted a fundraiser to finance her travel to the event, and associate costs, and – hardly surprisingly – she wasn’t admitted into the event. To be fair it probably came as a surprise to her given that in common with all feminists she isn’t the sharpest knife in the block. She’d sought a free ‘press ticket’ at one point, I believe. You couldn’t make it up.
Her fundraiser video (and other short video pieces) are available to watch through this link. I’m no psychologist, but I recall thinking when I first saw the pieces that she’s a clear example of someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. A good lady friend who’s a psychologist confirmed my suspicion without reservation. Ms Seattle’s account of the time she spent with conference speakers and delegates is here.
The first photograph is of Ms Seattle and her baby, the latter with an expression you’d expect a baby with a mother like Cupcake to have (Cupcake was the term used by Robert Carnell in his ‘must see’ conference talk about paternity fraud. We might use it in future for Entitlement Princesses such as the self-obsessed Ms Seattle.) The last two photographs in her piece are of:
– Alison Tieman (TyphonBlue) and Sage Gerard (Victor Zen)
– a friendly and perfectly innocuous American gentleman with a camera, also Attila Vinczer of AVfM, myself, and the litre bottle of duty-free Johnny Walker Red Label I was sharing with maybe 6-8 people, the bar having closed for the night.
I didn’t see Cupcake in Malone’s, the large restaurant / bar where we had our dinner, although a very charming young lady did join us, who I hope doesn’t turn out to be another feminist on a futile mission to find something of substance to criticise MHRAs about (if she was, she was out of luck, needless to say).
After our meal we repaired to our hotel. Cupcake arrived late in the evening, and her presence didn’t registered with me until she was standing up and someone was pointing out who she was – I didn’t recognise her from her fundraising video – and she was duly ejected in a civilised manner from the hotel. Her narcissism is all too clear from her description of the photographs taken by the ‘older gentleman’. Ask yourself, would a man – with the dubious motivation she implies – have shown her images of her legs, breasts, and midriff, which she says he’d taken on his digital camera? Like everything else about her narratives, the idea is laughable. Needless to say, her story was picked up by Dave Futile, who pretended to take it seriously. Or maybe he’s so stupid he actually believed her impressions were a reflection of reality. On balance, the latter is surely more credible.