This story proved to me one important thing - that it is possible to mobilize a whole lot of people against something we feel is wrong. I was amazed by the amount of letters that poured out of the community when Nerve.com first published Stoddard's pieces. At the time, I really felt like we were making a difference and doing something right.
When I read the piece about the book and that "Letters From Camp" would be included, it was akin to having a band-aid suddenly ripped off. The entire circumstance of the event had come back all fresh and new. And I posted a lot about it.
Probably too much.
Amazon.com has since taken down all of our book reviews. And they're probably right. Yes, it was unethical for Stoddard to use the piece a second time, but is was probably rash for us to flail out against him without even picking up the book first.
So I did just that. And it is hysterical. The chap does everything in his power to paint himself as a little geek who had absolutely no idea what he was doing or talking about. And succeeds wonderfully, I might add.
But his treatment of the LR piece - wow. First off, all those little details that he left out are now in the book. His scene participation, the cum-eating, the group grope cabin. All in there. Originally they were left out, and instead placed in the Nerve.com comments section by people who took part in his activities. Those comments were taken down, with the explanation that his girlfriend read them and he needed them to come down. Guess the girl is gone.
There are other parts added and deleted. He left in all the derogatory comments about us, which doesn't surprise me, and completely took away his second ending detailing the guilt that came over him before he left. Figures. Well, that doesn't make for a good sensationalistic story, after all.
But the beginning... my lord. That is where gold can be found, my friends. So I now present to you the first few bits of a story that begins on page 180 within the book under a chapter heading entitled... wait for it... "Hate Mail," written by our old friend, Grant Stoddard.
The 3,549 e-mails in my inbox said more or less the same thing: that I was a despicable person. I refreshed the screen every few seconds - 3,551, 3,558 - the number was growing ever faster. A few of the e-mailers were disappointed but pragmatic about what had happened in the woods of rural Maryland. Some wanted to take me to court. Others promised me physical harm. They said I betrayed them, deceived them. The word choices, the frantic grammatical errors, and the heavy use of uppercase type were frightening indicators of how acutely I had enraged an entire subculture, a group of people who were actually defined by their collective urge to inflict pain on others. Within a few hours they had mobilized against me and I was running scared. E-mails came in waves that corresponded to time zones. Eastern, Central, Mountain, Pacific, from sea to shining sea. Then a second wave of venomous prose from Europe.
For a few weeks in July, I was the scourge of everyone who'd ever donned a gimp suit, brandished a bullwhip, or attached electrodes to a pair of testicles. The BDSM community wanted me dead.
He also included a bit about the story in a section best described as an appendix. In it, he once again explained how the SM community rallied against him, lead by the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom. In this little bit, he actually reprinted the entire sample letter to the editor that was posted on NCSFreedom.org, and included the NCSF mission statement.
Good show, that. The boy finally did something right.