Daily Archives: December 25, 2014

An Attempt By Yamamanama To Impersonate Me

So while walking back and forth between my computer and my kitchen, checking on recipes while cooking I get an alert on my email saying that “I” had just posted on Vox Day’s blog.

Uhm. What the shit? I head that off right fast.

For future reference, any comments I make on Blogspot, or sites where impersonation of another is possible, will be posted in this thread with the unfortunately necessary diligence in order to prove that I am me.


If anyone is unsure if the person they are talking to is myself, register on the forums, and send me a private message. As the site is hosted by ourselves, we can at least ensure the authenticity of my own identity here, as well as ensure for our own security that the person on the other end is NOT yama.

The online websites I currently participate in discussion in are:

Shadowdancer Studios (my own website) and these forums at Affsdiary.com
According To Hoyt
Mad Genius Club
Monster Hunter Nation
TLKnighton’s website
Cedar Writes
(very rarely) Google Plus.

and, as only of a few days ago, Vox Popoli, in order to establish my own identity as Yama had begun to impersonate other people there in order to facilitate his own misdirection and misrepresentation in an attempt to whitewash his own actions and claim victimhood as well as desperately attempting to muddy the waters while he slings more shit around him. He has made false claims that I ‘suggested’ to Vox that someone named Emma be stalked, when in fact I have no idea who this even references. He attempted to make it sound like Jordan179 was ‘in on the plot.’

If it is someone local to him, then he believes that I have, somehow, the magic capability of being able to have the influence and connections necessary to ID his friends, and believes that I have the same kind of inclinations and obsessions he does. If that were the case why am I restricting myself to documenting his activities of harassment online? Beyond where his IP address geolocates (which only goes as far as either Marshfield or Duxbury Massachusetts), I have no idea where he lives, and honestly have no intention of finding out – why would I?! He behaves as if I would do to him what he has attempted to do to me – namely attempted to crowdsource harassment of myself and my friends online – and is now behaving as if I would source harassment of his friends outside of the Internet based simply because of their association with him.

This is a classic Yama projection (believing that I will act, think and behave the same way he does), and has me wondering if he has attempted to do this to me RL as well. I am already aware that he likes to bring me up in completely unrelated places and frequently will do so in places where he thinks he may garner support in encouraging dislike of myself based on his lies, smears and baseless accusations.

Unlike Yama I have a life and a family, and books to write and friends I spend time with. I do not spend all of my time hounding someone I don’t like – I will generally ignore them and avoid them instead.

It is because Yama himself chooses NOT to leave me alone that ensures that this documentation even continues to exist. In fact he came after me when I all but vanished from the blogosphere because I had no time for it and played L2 as my mode of relaxation when I came home from work. There was no reason for him to do this. The game had nothing to do with RL politics, or Muslims, or such, yet Yama felt that my mere presence there was enough for him to go to the forums and then harass people there.

He has been actively stalking me for whatever demented reason he has, that none of us can actually figure out, since late 2009. Andrew P. Marston has made it his life’s work to destroy me online, to try and drive me off the Internet.

Here’s a thought for the people reading this:

Who has he managed to do this to, that he is so determined to keep doing this? How many victims has he had, that I am unaware of, that we are unaware of? From his harassment of Larry Correia, Sarah Hoyt, Vox Day, Tom Kratman, John C. Wright and many other authors, it is clear that I am not his only target in attempts to silence whatever it is we have to say, whether it is politics or our writing books, or simply enjoying ourselves.

Who else has he targeted and successfully driven away from their joys and passion and friends online?


This post was originally written up for the Stalker Sticky Thread.


Please also be advised that any announcements I make about communications will be reiterated here and on the forums. Any other attempt by other people and sources to pretend to be me and make false announcements about my modes of communication will NOT be able to do that. If it doesn’t exist on Shadowdancer Studios and the Affsdiary Forums, then it didn’t come from me.

Note: I do have some blogger pages but I don’t post there and am not using them. Consider them abandoned for lack of security and privacy control.

Our first real tree

The current post over at Mad Genius Club talks about the trials and tribulations of the holiday season, especially if one has cats that like to climb Christmas trees. Having spent the evening after filling the stockings for the children cuddled up with Rhys, marvelling that somehow, we’d managed to put together a Christmas for the kiddlywinks, and reminiscing as we watched the tree lights sparkle, I find myself reminiscing again – this time about the first time we had a proper Christmas tree. As a child in the Philippines, the tree I remembered having was made out of little pine cones shaped into a Christmas tree that came from Baguio. It wasn’t big and we could put it on top of the TV.

The first Christmas we had in East Berlin, I bought the tree, and my classmate and I carried it home. My father had plans of buying a plastic tree but I would have none of it! We were in Germany and we could finally have a proper Tanenbaum! But no, my father reasoned that it seemed cruel to get a cut tree. This made no sense to me as the tree was grown and cut for that purpose, and since it was cut already, it was a waste not to use it for the reason why it was cut down.

I was telling my friend about this while walking home the 2 or more kilometers home from school. She was quite baffled at the thought of a plastic tree, but reasoned that it was too hot where I came from for tanenbaumen, when we saw someone selling trees out of a truck in a parking lot. My friend suggested buying one. I made up my mind right there to buy a tree if I could afford one with my pocket money. I had enough money for a 2 meter tall tree, which was the smallest one available.

Everyone else buying trees, I remember, was a grown up. The sight of two children, one German and the other a tiny little auslanderin, very seriously picking out which tree to buy, seemed to be a source of amusement. We didn’t mind them; this was, to our minds, something important!

Nevertheless, we picked out a tree, and paid the five marks for it. The man selling it asked if we lived nearby. No, we replied, we lived at (street), and he remarked at how far we had to go. Yet these two little girls lifted the tree onto their shoulders, and trudged off, with those darned heavy leather schoolbags on our shoulders digging in through our anoraks. I remember people pausing to watch us go by, because we looked like a horizontal tree that had sprouted legs.

It was afternoon, but the sky was already pitch dark, and snowflakes, big fat clumps of white, drifted out of the darkness and into the street lights we followed to our apartment building. The day was very cold, but carrying the tree, which was heavier than either of us had anticipated, kept us warm, and the tree itself shielded us from quite a bit of wind chill.

My mother was quite shocked to find out that we had walked the whole way; we said the tree wouldn’t have fit through the bus’ door. My brothers were simply excited that we had a tree!

My friend showed us how to have the tree set up. We went back down with a pail and filled it with sand from the little playground next to the apartment building, and we planted the tree into the bucket of sand and stood it to one side of the living room, next to the windows.

Afterward my mother plied us with drinks of hot chocolate and cookies bought from the West side of Berlin. She made up a thank you gift of food and treats and gave them to my friend when it was time for her to go home.

My father was surprised by the tree when he got home, and shocked to find out how we’d gotten it there. Seeing as I’d made such an effort, he decided that we go out and buy decorations, so we drove out to the West side and came home with lots of decorations and decorated the tree that same night. It looked quite magical to us, that first proper tanenbaum and my father conceded that I’d been right to push for a real tree. In the years we stayed in Germany, every Christmas we got a proper, real Tanenbaum. We went with the plastic trees later on, but by then we were all quite a bit older, and Christmas was less about the tree and the presents and more about the company, the religious connotations, the social gatherings and the food.