Exposing The Anti-Sai Activist: Robert Priddy
Robert C. Priddy created his own Wikipedia page in which he publicly solicited himself as a notable person in relation to Philosophy and his former Indian Guru Sri Sathya Sai Baba. Robert C. Priddy released his biographical data on a personal website hosted by a free, online hosting company in Norway (home.no.net/anir/Nos/). On this free web-hosting domain, Robert Priddy personally disclosed biographical data that included stories of his experimentation with LSD, cannabis and other drugs as well as information about his early years. Robert Priddy deleted many of these public domain webpages after he defected from the Sai Movement (Ref). The referenced and attributed material on this webpage is duplicated in full under the premise of ‘fair use’ in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, any such (and all) material on this webpage is distributed without profit and for research and reference purposes only. Although Robert C. Priddy is now attempting to remove his relevant, unsavory, public and self-disclosed biographical data from the internet, he (as well as his Anti-Sai associates) duplicated complete text content from Pro-Sai websites (including RadioSai) and added commentaries to them. When the same is done to him, however, he cries “copyright infringement” although the biographical material in question was released by him into the public domain as self-disclosure.
Robert Priddy’s Penchant For Projection:
In addition to deleting his drug-induced hallucinations, Robert Priddy also deleted an article entitled “At Wistborough Lodge Prep. School” in which he related his penchant for prevarication tracing back to his childhood.
Robert Priddy related the following experiences (which he since deleted) about his tendency to tell lies, make up stories, act like a fool and gain sympathy by talking about committing suicide by jumping into a flood:
“One evening I found I could command the attention of most of the sixty boys in the dining hall by standing up and making faces behind the back of the duty teacher…
It turned out that I had a fairly lively fancy myself for I was able to convince my close friends of several stories that were quite untrue. I got a bit of a name for cooking up stories on our long and rather boring school walks at weekends. Once I tried a dramatic trick of putting myself at the centre of an account of hardy life in a croft in the northernmost wilds of Scotland near Wick amid snows and glens with red deer and polecats. It was a bit of a sensation and I had to tell all my friends in turn, then they wanted more of my experiences. I obliged as best I could and, when they were in doubt about the authenticity, I found it quite easy to counter their queries and doubts. The fact was, they wanted to believe me. So I was able to excite them with my exploits while living on the south coast (where I had only been on a few weekends) where I knew of smuggling runs and many things, the commonplace as well as the spine-tingling. They said that they hoped it was all true. For my part, I began to feel trapped in a complicated web I had woven, as I had done once before about having gypsy friends. It sprang of the desire to entertain and gladden, but I now knew somehow that it was also out of a sense of gaining some extra popularity. I had projected myself into those tales as if they were really true in order for them to seem true, and I even began to wonder where I had it all from myself. The stories, or the most tangible parts of them, must have come from somewhere…
On a school walk we were taken to see some dramatic flooding in the spring of 1947 when the excessive snow of that longest of winters was thawing. We stared down into the violent over-swollen brown flood waters in a branch of the river Arun only inches below the bridge we were on. The river banks were broken and huge torrents bearing debris crashed over a fall downwater from the bridge. I had recently received the news that my parents had moved away from our home at North Lodge in Roffey Park, and no longer had a house. Roffey Park and all it meant to me was irretrievable and I felt intensely the loss of the beauty of the lake and of every spot of the woods and fields I knew better than the back of my hand. Something told me that the home atmosphere in the cosy lodge, tea-times before the fire was gone forever. There was also the insecurity of not knowing why this had happened, where my parents would live next and a family crises beyond my ken that I must still have sensed somehow.
All this shook me up and made me feel quite forlorn as I stared into the flood. My closest companions noticed this and I eventually told them that I felt like jumping into the flood, more so as to dramatise my feelings than in all seriousness. They were shocked and frightened on my behalf and the whole thing became rather melodramatic. At length I had to reassure them that I wouldn’t really jump in. Despite having moved twice and having had to part from friends at several schools, the loss of my Roffey home was the worst I had suffered…
Apparently, Robert Priddy’s tendency to lie, embellish and tell stories originated from his traumatic childhood. When one listens to Priddy talk about Sathya Sai Baba, one is under the impression that he is still traumatized and he is resorting to childhood habits to cope with his current need for vengence and retaliation. Robert Priddy often blathers about Sai Devotees “projecting” the positive onto Sathya Sai Baba. Robert Priddy is sadly trapped in “projecting” his negativity onto Sai Baba.