Who is more determined to win than someone who sees “losing” as the utter destruction of their sense of themselves? The competitive ruthlessness of this sort is off the charts. If the price of not “winning” is a humiliating death during life, your motivation to dominate, or to kill your opponent, cannot be higher. It’s impossible to understand that someone you care about is like this, until you encounter that fatal conflict, which will often be the first and last. 

Of course, these words you are reading are being written by a quintessential loser, so take that into consideration. I have no power, political, economic or social. In such conflicts I have only my mind, my integrity and my sense of right and wrong, puny tools, it must be said, against the will of someone who will not be defeated, no matter what. Day to day there is also my sense of humor, which will not be evident in these pages, but that too can be turned into another reason to string me up by people given to that sort of thing. Trying to be funny, and making people laugh as though I am, when I am actually the most despicably camoflagued Nazi on the scene!!! Think of how quickly any funny man’s humor can turn to acid when you learn the guy is, say, a rapist who drugs his victims.

To a narcissist bent on victory, no matter what the facts may say about a given contest, there is always spin – your version of the facts that makes you, in fact, the winner, completely in the right. All you need to do is shut down the so-called facts of any so-called witnesses. Nobody is brave once the brave guy next to them is tortured to death, disemboweled and had their head placed on a pike. If there is evidence that can be used against you, bring pressure to bear to make that evidence go away. If the evidence is needed in a timely manner, say to avoid the statute of limitations, or to get past the ‘stop being an asshole and get over it’ deadline, keep the matter of its admissibility tied up in court until you run out the clock. All one needs is the will to do these things, and the power, and nobody can defeat you.

Oh, you can marshal the supposed facts into a so-called logical, arguably persuasive version of what you say happened? You can speak dispassionately and make your case appealing, intellectually and emotionally, to common sense, fairness and basic goodness? Good for you! I will utterly destroy you, funny man. Those “qualities” of yours can easily be turned against you, vicious hypocrite. I can cry, I can wheedle, I can rage, threaten, appeal to loyalty, to love, mercy, forgiveness, to the head on the fucking pike, to God, family, tribe, country, I can refute your “truth” with very compelling lies that will turn you into the irredeemable liar I say you are. Watch how fast most people will fall in line with this kind of thing, clown.

Watching this horror show play out on the national news every day, with one of our political parties, it is particularly unnerving to see it reenacted by a group of my oldest, closest friends. One day none are my friends, because I’ve had a conflict with another friend in the group who felt I defied her. Defying the will of a friend, boys and girls, a crime only a monster would commit, think about it. Then I made her feel terrible after her husband humiliated her by forcing her to apologize to me for flying into a sustained rage. She was not going to take this defiance from her spineless sadomasochistic husband too, and so he told me, after weeks of aggrieved, tooth-sucking silence, “I’ve walked away from friendships for less than what you did to me.” His wife regarded me coolly as her husband made this announcement.

His threat reminds me of a ridiculous ultimatum issued by another old friend, a guy I knew since fourth grade. A very nervous man, uncomfortable in his own skin to an alarming extent, he texted me that we could not talk on the phone, that it had to be in person. He drove to meet me so we could have the conversation his marriage counselor had urged him to have with his closest friend. He arrived with his eye ticking and face atwitch. After a few moment of small talk, in response to my question, he told me why he’d insisted on meeting in person. He had to confront me because I had, either intentionally or thoughtlessly, tried to deliberately destroy his marriage. His marriage, one should note, was a long hellscape featuring all the ravages of war. I was puzzled, but instead of telling him to fuck himself and his nightmare fucking marriage, and the fucking marriage counselor who had told him “your wife cannot respect you if you’re too much of a pussy to confront your closest friend after what your wife claims he did to you”, I talked things through with him, tried to help any way I could. Needless to say, I couldn’t help.

His divorce a few years later did nothing to improve our chances of being friends again, in spite of my efforts to do so. After all, he had been completely innocent and a good person during the years of our long friendship, while I… he didn’t even have the words to describe me. I was simply wrong, about him, his motivations, everything.

This is often the case, we learn, when you reach any sort of impasse with this kind of person. It is the reason Trump’s lawyers argue he must have an immediate adjudication of his complete immunity from all lawsuits and prosecution in one case against him and, at the same time, that he must be given maximum time to have the issue of his complete immunity decided in another case. He can argue an urgent rush to avoid irreparable harm in case one, and an equal urgency to have the court to take as much time as possible to decide the identical question in another case where delay is his only hope of “victory”.

These motherfuckers are never constrained by a need to be consistent, logical or fair. They have only one aim: victory at any cost, because winning is worth any price – since losing is a fate worse than a tortured death itself.