Blacked Out Blogging Discouraged

On Time Bandits And Hecklers

There must have been a subconscious reason I hit the "publish" button on yesterday's post. I don't remember much, if anything from after 6 in the evening.

I have often written stuff that could have the FBI at my door at 4 in the morning; just for catharsis, to give the finger to the world, but I wouldn't publish it; only save it to draft for my own amusement or self loathing in some cases.

I remember thinking about how Google has been incrementally disappearing this blog from its search engine, with noticeable spikes downward in my traffic after such events as, the posting of the video of the presidential debate where I ridiculed the wrong candidate; that spurred the most precipitous decline in traffic. 

Suddenly none of the 3 billion people using devices and randomly searching for things on Google were landing on my pages; before that, I would be getting an average of 40 people who might wind up here because they happened to Google the exact title of the post.

Then, after I signed up for an account on the Gab social network, within hours, I started getting friend requests on my Facebook account that seemed like trolling -(pictures of) beautiful young ladies who wanted to be my friend, but who had themselves only joined Facebook that morning and had maybe only one other friend already, type of thing. They were after the stuff on my other friends pages that only friends can see.

After I recently posted something about "hesitating to get the vaccine"*, then not only did this blog apparently disappear from Google's index of blogs, I started noticing glitches like all the buttons at the top of the editor being replaced by "broken" icons, so that, had I not known enough to go into my "no-script" blocker and change a few settings, I might have thought that Blogger was broken, and just stopped using it. "What a bunch of jerks," I thought. Around this time, my "status updates" on Facebook disappeared from the news feeds of all my friends under the age of 30, it seems, unless they were friends that I had regular interactions with, through messenger and such.

Somebody really wants the whole world to take the stab, and to forget that Donald J. Trump* ever existed. That was my red flag. Somebody wants the power to make the entire human race walk around breathing their own CO₂ and lining up to vote for their candidates.  It just makes you want to do the exact opposite, in my rebellious opinion. Somebody, somewhere is chuckling and saying: "Look, they're all doing it; we can dictate human behavior using a global network of cellphones! They're all doing it! All, except for this guy in New Orleans...what are we going to do about him, and his ilk?"

Most people, it seems, are powerless against the persuasiveness of their all-pervading campaign. I automatically took up for the underdog, Trump, against the power of cancel culture and all the tools at their disposal. One guy against the world! 

I root for the guy that the whole Empire is trying to destroy, especially after seeing the hypocrisy and drama driven drivel of the radical "left." I don't see any evidence that the guy was ever a white supremacist, and I don't buy into the hocus pocus that this is because I am blind to the truth because I grew up in a white upper middle class culture. We were sent to the best schools, for crying out loud.. 

*to nobody at all: the reason you are not even seeing this post, unless you are in a tightly-knit group of people who are "followers" or who have the specific link at your disposal, is because of these exact terms. Humans are paid to pore over every page published to the web.

And Now, I Am Dying For A Bottle Of Wine 

I was on about 3 hours of sleep when I went and got the bottle of wine to have with the bison meat that was to be red meat that I rarely eat. Every once in a while it is good to get some blood into the diet. That probably coincided with the frequency that my ancestors would kill a buffalo.

I have often assembled posts like yesterday's for my own amusement, but I never hit the "publish" button. I'm still not sure I did yesterday. I might have just closed the browser, at which point what I had written would have been saved in draft form; but maybe the bots flagged the content and then, through some bug, published it.

So they could censure it?

This morning, my phone rang and it was a guy on the other end insisting that I had called him. He had a missed call from my number, but my phone had no record of any outgoing call to him.

I can't help thinking that this is another glitch connected to online police trying to get me to answer a call to the number that my Google account is connected to; to establish my physical location and that it is me, physically putting that vaccination hesitation stuff "out there."

I'm glad that, in my blacked out state I didn't accidentally post anything that could have "them" kicking my door in at 4 in the morning.

But, along the lines of the Buddhist principle of not allowing other people to have power over you, the phone ringing this morning was kind of a wake up call telling me to ditch the free Obama phone (which seems to have been hacked, otherwise why would the phone itself call someone in Metarie, Louisianna?) and start fresh with a new phone, new accounts, and new "friends."

There are people who seem to enjoy the power they might exert over someone else. What I call "time bandits" are an example of this.

There is one guy who lives here whom, I don't doubt, would talk my ear off for eight hours straight, probably relishing inside, his ability to derail my plans and usurp my whole day, for some psychological reason that only time bandits might understand. Every time I start to walk away "...well, I'd better get going, if I'm gonna make it there before they close.." type of thing, this will animate him. He will draw in a breath, become rejuvenated, and then launch into some spiel to change the subject and keep me captive longer. 

"Have you been to the Quarter recently?" 

It's as if he would consider it a real feather in his cap if he could detain me to the point that I wouldn't make it there before they closed, type of thing. Time bandits.

And, Hecklers.

Alex in California, who used to comment regularly on this blog, seems to want me to care what he thinks. This is to make it harder for me to say "Who cares what some guy in California thinks?" and then just do what I do.

He wants to plant a bug of negative criticism in my head, that will nag me and give him power over me. No good music comes from the practice of trying to impress or to "prove yourself" to someone.

I remember being over Bobby's apartment, when one of his friends would show up and Bobby would hand me his electric guitar and crank up his amp to the point that I knew it had be be audible throughout the entire floor. 

Then he would say something to his friend like: "You gotta hear this guy play; this guy knows his stuff. Go ahead, Daniel, play something good!" And that would be when I would find myself at a loss for anything to play, and when I did my worst playing. Kind of like the golfer who is trying to "kill the ball" and falls victim to "over swinging." Am I trying to entertain this person or to become "amazing" and maybe establish an idol/fan relationship?

Stand up comics frequently have the heckler in the audience, who will be yelling "You suck!" at every opportunity or laughing sarcastically "Ha ha ha, that was really funny!" Maybe they are trying to piss off the guy so he won't be as funny, or throw the timing of his jokes off, so that his "You suck" will become a self- fore-filling* proclamation. Maybe he is annoyed that everyone in the room seems to have their attention on the comic; and not him. The guy certainly didn't show up to get a good laugh. Why did the guy show up?

*a pun on the golf swinging reference, Alex, I know it's spelled wrong...

He is most likely getting some kind of payoff from his behavior.

Alex Carter apparently gets fulfillment out of hurling "You're an entitled, racist piece of crap!" at someone; and I'm a convenient target.

The stand up comic learns how to "own" the hecklers by keeping a repertoire handy to put such types in their place. "Didn't your mother teach you that it's impolite to heckle with your mouth full of french fries, tubby?" type of thing...

Yesterday's post that I did in the spirit of: "Wouldn't it be funny if Alex came to the blog and saw this?" kind of woke me up to the fact that I had sunk to his level. 

I even thought about changing the blog title to "The Racist, Entitled, Clueless Douchbag Blog" and doing like a mock KKK blog; as a burlesque.

But then, I thought: That's what Alex Carter want's! 

To have that kind of power over someone who can do things that he can't. 

So, maybe I write, play the guitar and harmonica, draw pictures and do other artwork; but make no bones about it; I suck at them all; Alex just wants to say that!

The last video I posted, "The Buzz Is Right/White Flight" has one "dislike" on it. Gee, I wonder; I just wonder; who could have put that there...

To derail my plans and usurp my whole day and make it so I don't get there before they close (all because of him) type of thing.