Motive is at the root of all rational crime. Without motive, crime is
pathological and therefore the inconsequential act of a madman.
In this riddle lies the horns of the Rossi paradox.
So what is Rossi’s motive for his lies?
I think it is hate; seething hate. He hates his detractors with all his
heart and soul, they have given him no respect and this capital crime has
hardened him to madness under the weight of this mortal slight.
This grievous offence grinds on him like an life long itch that can’t be
scratched.
He has set up his blog to win a fan base of minions, to do his bidding, to
worship his pronouncements and utterances, to gain maximum popularity among
the unwashed multitude, and in so doing to infuriate his detractors who
disrespect and envy him, and who have always disrespected him.
He has set up his business to drive those he hates wild with disgust; that
is why he says the things he does to impart maximum pain on his enemies.
He has carefully built a legion of mindless admirers to do his bidding, to
handle his dirty work, to be an army at his defense, to wreak frustration
and rage on the forces of humiliation that have hounded him down through
the years.
His enemies are locked in mortal combat with these converts to the Rossi
religion, the true believers who have faith in him.
The battle has risen to new levels of absurdity, of irrationality where
each word Rossi utters is a weapon of pain and frustration.
He weaves a tapestry of distrust to befuddle and confuse where logic cannot
be found.
The revels in the carnage of the mêlée, in the theater of absurdity, he
laughs at the ridiculousness of the dialog amongst the chattering class; a
weird game by a man made mad by years of certain contempt that his
personality has imposed on him.
The money is not important, it is revenge that drives him, it is fury that
blinds him, he plays the game of "Vendetta" he has learn so well in his
Italian business education.
His pride and ego needs to be assuaged after long years of abuse by the
snakes and clowns, the thieves of his ideas, and the idiots that criticize
him.
So all you warriors in the Rossi wars on both sides of the line; take heart
and read his writing like holy writ, stumble through it chapter and verse,
fight the good fight for in the battle Rossi wins unconditionally in every
ruckus exchange.
This crusade serves to only amuse the five star general of incongruity who
sits on high at the right hand of chaos, who calls the tune; who pulls the
strings, with every word he inspires the fight, till all collapse in the
dance of exhaustion and farcicality.
