Alright.

Buckle up Huevos Rancheros!

This going to be a wild and bendy ride.

More a Hunter S Thompson type trip through the demented pathways of my mind, than an explanation on how to crack Russian trolls.

But trust me, we'll get to our final destination eventually.

It all begin, one day.

As a boy.

Holding a bear cub.

Oops.

That's a different story.

At any rate, I have spent much time in my career in semiconductor capital equipment sales.

And as you move higher and higher in the business, sales training becomes more akin to taking a psychology class, as opposed to what this dude does:

So, I have to spend a lot of time reading people, and actually listening to what they are saying at that moment.

And how they were saying it.

And their body language.

Especially their body language, since 90% of communication is non-verbal.

One day, I was with this customer.

For the purposes of this story, we shall refer to him as Penishead, because that's what he was.

No, he was not bald.

On with the story, I was with PH is his office, and he was regaling me with his epic triumphs while go kart racing.

I like go kart racing also.

I just didn't want to hump one, like he did.

(not literally)

So, he's giving me these long, detailed recaps of his races and I'm not listening.

As any rational human being would be doing when faced with such a nightmare.

No.

What I'm doing is staring at PH's trainwreck of a tie.

He thinks wearing it is ironically funny.

It is not.

At least back in the early 2000s

Anyhoo.

It's one of those ties that looks like a painting of Hawaiian Hula dancer against the backdrop of a beautiful sunset.

PH's tie even has glued on glitter accents also.

Back then, that was special.

That shit had be hand applied.

By real Americans.

So, I wasn't listened to him.

And for some reason I just blurted out, "I hate your tie. It's really ugly."

Awkward!

Shit!

Profuse apologies follow from me since this dude is a very important customer of mine.

You don't say shit like that to your customer in true honestly.

I then profusely apologized and we both laughed it off.

But he was oddly deferential and cooperative with me for the rest of the day after that.

Which was strange, since PH is named PH for a reason.

Moving on.

I had just gained an insight into an element of human psychology.

I had just communicated to him, in a very direct way, that I wasn't listening to what he was saying.

At all.

Nope.

He now knew that I thought his tie was ugly.

So much so, that I was willing to tell him that.

In no uncertain terms.

Now, the tie is just a metaphor here.

Stay with me.

We are constantly not listening to what other people are saying.

When someone else is talking, quite often we're not in that actual moment, listening to what they are saying.

Quite often, we're thinking about what we're going to say next when they stop talking.

But if you've keep your subsequent comment within the broad realm of the general subject at hand, then it appears as if an actual conversation is going on.

We just never really tell folks to their face that we're not listening to them drone on about there favorite subject.

It tends to disrupt their moods.

Their psyches.

Their confidence.

So that's the technique that I use on Russian trolls.

I engage with them directly.,

And then I communicate to them directly that I'm not listening to damn thing they're writing.

I do that by ignoring what they're writing.

And I just start to insult them.

But the insults have to be completely true.

You just can't can some a "Poopyhead" and expect it to have any impact.

(unless a full diaper was somehow involved)

In order to insult someone correctly, it has to be true.

And it has to make them feel ashamed.

I know, pretty cruel and vicious thing to do to a fellow human being.

But that's exactly what I did to them.

How?

By doing some research and figuring out who my opposition was.

Sales 101.

The Washington Post comment section is a high profile target for Russian trolls.

So most of them would probably be coming from the Internet Research Agency in St. Petersburg, Russia.

Yes.

They drink like fish.

But that's another story.

So, I tried to do a little research on what the lives of my fellow trolls were like and what they would be ashamed about.

It turns out, there was quite a bit.

St. Petersburg is a very expensive city to live in.

And there isn't a lot of room to live in, if your poor...or even in the middle class.

And my opponents were poor.

Most of the Russian trolls have degrees in English.

That's it.

There is nothing special, magical or mystical about them.

The less proficient ones cut and past the same thing over and over again.

The better ones modify their scripts a little bit each time.

But they all use scripts of some type.

Not special operations psychological warfare super soldiers, in other words.

Knowing this, I attacked their relative poverty.

I'm mocked them for having to live with three roommates in a cramped apartment with no air conditioning.

I mocked them for not even being able to walk to work on their own sidewalks, because they were filled with the cars of rich Russians who had illegally parked them there.

I mocked them for allowing the rich Russians to do that.

But they had no control over it.

And never would.

Because the Russian cops are completely corrupt and are under the control of the Oligarchs, as well as other rich Russians.

I mocked them for that.

I mocked them for making less than a 16 year old high school student working her first summer job at a Wendy's.

I did that to them.

And eventually, they'd crack.

They had to.

Russians are proud people.

At some point, they would start defending Russia, and defending themselves.