What Lauren said she thought was different about the schemes behind the schemes of DOS, the things about DOS that she didn’t like, is a huge part of what is crazy about this dingbat, Lauren Salzman.
She was okey-dokey about being a slave, about being a middle-aged spinster sistah-wife for her horndog master. She was even satisfied with opening her legs to a guy who was her mother’s humping partner and who lived with several other women.
She knew that the freakazoid bossing her around screwed everybody he could get.
These women were living on top of each other, so Lauren probably knew about Raniere’s abortion demands for his groupies. She coulda woulda known that Raniere was a practicing child rapist, and certainly, Lauren never bit Raniere during group blowjobs.
She knew that she was once a younger hag and that Raniere had a posse of older hags and even Toni Natalie.
Lauren even went to Mexico to teach “Human Pain” courses and to get Raniere more Mexicans, since Raniere wanted Mexicans, young or old, so he could grab their money, make them into confused fanatical thugs and have a steady catalog full of imported sexual prey. In fact, he had one young lady who was held in a room for him by Lauren for at least a couple of years. The young lady from Mexico had parents who were Raniere fanatics, and they were happy happy too when Raniere had sex with 3 of their daughters and had their son film some of it.
Lauren was cheerful about that, too.
Lauren did not like Raniere having younger and sexier, better-looking sexual conquests or cuter rape victims, so why not imprison one?
And withhold her passport, nothing wrong with that, if maybe Keith would just praise Lauren or pat her arm. That could be cause for some cheerfulness, and Lauren could lie to more people, more jauntily.
She didn’t mind getting branded and agreed to recruit what were obviously more sex slaves for the Head Ape, and she was industriously getting collateral and then demanding more collateral. She didn’t mind jackshit, not that much anyway, as long as Raniere ordered it and threw in a little bit of ritualistic mumbo-jumbo and went to bed with Lauren once in a while, not as a threesome.
She held on until nearly menopause for Raniere to ejaculate an Avatar baby for her to call what? Her very own? She knew that she HAD to work on all of her jealousies. She had learned and lived by this insanity, that pain was the only way to find love, to be lovable or loving.
Lauren lived happily and positively, like a pig sobbing in shit, for her whole-hog adult life. Like mother, like daughter, like sistah. Happy, happy, happy Lauren stuck in toxic quicksand and doing bad, bad, things. She slaved to be jolly and chipper, and JOY was her greatest ambition.
But testifying in court after her plea deal, Lauren Salzman worked her angle as a regretful martyr who sees things differently, now that Raniere had hidden in a closet south of the border, while police held some guns at her head. She was resentful that her God was screwing more sex slaves with no announcement, no greeting cards or sympathy cards. Why oh why did her idol deceive her, so coldly and cruelly?
Why was Lauren Salzman pretending that Raniere was doing anything differently than always?
He deceived Lauren consistently. He did not overlook her or change his routine. Did she do the boo-hooing because she wanted to tweak some sympathy for her decades of sado-masochism?
Bitter jealousy and unrequited obsession are hardly material for any sudden disclaimers or for any epiphanies. Mordor in the court. Odious is odious.
Raniere was Raniere, and Lauren Salzman didn’t change a thing. She just dug in and stayed on with him. Her mother will fix it all for poor Lauren Salzman, though. Lauren will go from prison to a quiet job as a cleaning lady for Nancy Salzman, who will never pay her.
Why interrupt the storyline of Lauren’s entire life?
Hopefully, Lauren will have a baby carriage of her own to push one day. Maybe she can learn to put diapers and a bonnet on a shackled ferret. An Avatar ferret.
It looks obvious that Lauren Salzman will not do prison time even remotely close to the number of years which she has spent devoutly and smugly tormenting others. She threw herself quite a pity party on the witness stand. It almost sounded as though she was breaking away from her decades of thundering delusions.
But I have moved on to a more realistic assessment of Miss Thang.
She has been so accustomed to being enslaved and then, at last, to having her own little goon squad of slaves to supervise, ever so vigilantly. What a veteran! She is like a chimpanzee obsessively examining her lice, accustomed to nitpicking.
Her mental and emotional impotence shows as so pronounced, and she is so very absorbed, chock full of clever-not-clever Nxivm/DOS concepts and linguistics, to the point that she seems to be completely oblivious to its all-encompassing foulness. Tunnel vision.
She has spent most of her life trying to please her mother’s evilness and Raniere’s. Recently, we saw photos of her, still tied to her repugnant mother, over the Thanksgiving holiday, photographed in a line at Starbucks. She had her head down, staring into her cellphone hypnotically, in what now passes for normality. It’s likely that none of the Salzman crackpots are rehabilitatable. Their souls were mangled and sold so long ago. What else do these bimbos know? Huh?
When does a “victim” of group insanity become a perpetrator? Apparently, there are no hard and fast rules about that. Lauren seemed so dutiful, dedicated, even anal about her self-importance, as a major contributor to everything and anything Raniere decided to implement.
Yet, Lauren always seems to look at herself privately as never being really good enough.
It is as if she has spent her entire adulthood eagerly adapting herself to drowning in a huge vat of communal shit. Pardon me for wondering if she has ever even had an orgasm. Perhaps she will someday find the guts to discuss that. How loose was her goose? Or was she resigned to pain masquerading as pleasure and chanting “I am not worthy!”
Maybe for once, she’s right. She’s like the mythic cauldron-soaked frog who was simmered and then fully boiled. Never quite “worthy” enough for her God but with him until the bitter end. She ingested the tricks and has nothing to trade beyond strategic tattling (do NOT tell on Mummy dearest) and nauseating self-pity and selective regrets.