So some dude on the Internet said an asshole thing in some other dude’s wall, and a third dude was all ‘bro why did you delete that bro’s comment dude, that’s silencing free speech’.
No.
Think of it this way. You live in a house right? You have friends right? Now if one of your friends came along one day, uninvited, unannounced, and takes a dump in your living room. He goes right to town in your living room, and runs out naked and cackling into the night. What do you do? Do you leave that shit in your living room and point it out to all your visitors? Fuck, you clean that shit up right? It’s YOUR FUCKING HOUSE.
And if your friend wants to take his shits in his living room and invite all his guests to take a whiff and admire the scenery, that’s his thing. Maybe one or two will be thrilled at finding a fellow poop decorator and get inspired to dump in their houses. Good for them. Probably most people will take one look and run for the fucking hills like sane people do. All this is their right, and your friend can do what he likes in his house.
Point is, if someone shits in your house you have the FUCKING RIGHT to boot that fucker and keep your house clean.
So no, deleting a goddamn offensive post is not fucking stifling free fucking speech.
BY JOHN MASEFIELD
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
— first seen in The Lonely Sea and the Sky, by Sir Francis Chichester.
Wallpaper from Dead End Thrills – Skyrim
— If Skyrim had a monarch, it would be my character. (And many other peoples’ characters too, I imagine. But my Skyrim: my queen.)
Rainmeter skins: Encoded, Serenity, Wheat
— Although at this level of minimalism I might as well not have any skins. I like seeing the uptime and all though.
*Offensive language. Also possibly offensive content, to offensive persons.
People of color.
It’s a fucking weird phrase.
Really now, what the hell is a
colorless person?
The bloody Invisible Man?
The fuck is a black person?
Only black people out there are bleeding burnt corpses.
Everyone’s a shade of brown. Honestly.
And under all that skin is the same fucking thing –
sinew and bone
fat and flesh
body, mind, heart and soul
Person of color. Well, we all fucking are.
From the hidden recesses of Evernote. Strange that I haven’t posted this yet. Maybe I thought it was incomplete. Or maybe I didn’t want it in point form. Whatever. Looks good enough to me, so here it is:
Title – People…
are inherently selfish.
– Look at me (and look at you), sitting or standing in our cushy houses reading crappy blogs on the Internet. Think of Africa. (Not just Africa, but it’s a classic guilt trip mechanism). Poor starving children et cetera ad nauseum. Compassion gets us nowhere. Unless you are Bill Gates or the United States, nothing will change. It doesn’t need to. In a social perspective, yes – end the genocide and forced military enslavement, dictators and blood diamonds. But to reference Battlestar Galactica, “All this has happened before, and all this will happen again.”. In any case this is beside the point.
– Consider, for instance, the lights. What goes into keeping our lights (and screens) on? Products are one-time cycles; purchase, use, destroy, purchase, use, upgrade, destroy, purchase – an endless cycle of (very! profitable!) rebirth. But electricity, lights, water – we take it for granted, we really do. Power generation (be it sourced from coal, dams, gas, nuclear reaction, the sun, the wind, geothermal vents or magic pixie-fairy dust) underpins the operation of the modern world.
– Why are there so many people on Earth? Why do people have so many kids? I postulate two reasons – the first: lack of birth control (or knowledge thereof) and the second: to have them work. Back in the dark ages (and yet that’s pre-1960 for most of the world, imo) kids were put to work as soon as they could take it – more often, regardless of whether they could. Productivity was the goal. These days people (the kind who have access to this post) have kids because (umm – I dunno. Why do people have kids? To not be alone with each other? To carry on genetically? To have someone to give their stuff to when they die?) they…. um, ah, I dunno. In any case, modern children are a massive expense, and it’s not easy to say the cost is worth the potential utility. Which is perhaps an underlying reason for declining birth rates in the parts of the world where kids actually ought to be raised – emotional scarring aside. PTSD from violent gun trauma is worse than being a NEET, maybe.
– There is massive unemployment in the ‘first world’, that’s been in the news for a while. Consider again the lights. There used to be lots of jobs in the basics sector, grinding, back-breaking work like coal mining, or assembling cars, or smelting steel, or construction. Profoundly unsexy, but essential to keep the (human) world spinning. But nobody wants to live like that. It just sucks. So we give our work to the machines. Corporations are of course happy to do so – people are messy: they unionize, they have conflicts with their bosses and each other, peoples’ fingers get sliced off by sharp objects, they need insurance and pensions. So the backbreaking goes to the machines, who don’t have backs [duh]. And the people are free to do what they will. Explore, dream, discover. Beautiful and utterly selfish.
– [Of course, all this applies to me as well.]
– Man makes a machine to do his job. Machine does man’s job. Man is out of a job and looks for work. All the jobs that reqire his skills are taken by the machines. What is man to do but upgrade and move on? Problem: too many people, not enough skills and not enough jobs. And yet if these jobs were open once more, would people still want them?
– Is this a bad thing? Being a dreamer isn’t bad at all – electricity and robots are the stuff of our wildest fantasies – but being jobless is, in practice, rather sucky.
And it’s November, which means I am doing Nanowrimo… Not very well, considering how I’m procrastinating here.
This year’s story isn’t as embarrassing and it’s entirely in Google Docs. I’m contemplating releasing the link into the wild for public viewing. If there’s actually any interest.
Is anyone interested in reading it as I write…?
And it relates to something I wrote of before.
Warning: appears to trigger inconsequential existential angst.
*********************
Like seriously. Profanity ahead. Avert thy virgin eyes. Or something.
*********************
1. Develop the mindset
2. Find a target
3. Dehumanize the target
4. ???
5. Profit!!
1. Develop the Mindset
Superiority is key. Believe always that you are right. Bend the universe to your will. It’s your fucking universe after all.
Remember: you are the elite. You are master of every conceivable conversation topic. And should anyone have the brevity to disagree, shower them with your mighty wrath and razor sharp words.
If this is taking place in real life – if you’ve got the fucking badge, you’ve got the fucking authority. Taze away, motherfucker.
2. Find a Target
Ask yourself this: what do you most dislike in this world? What do you most like, and what is in direct competition of that? If you believe the iPhone is manna sent down from a heaven – where Steve Jobs (R.I.P. R.I.P. *GENUFLECT*) has ascended to the very top, revolutionizing the afterworld with sleek touch surfaces – immediately seek out all Android / Windows Phone / Blackberry / other sidestream OS heretics. They are deserving of your wrath. Remember always your superiority.
Also, if they are more wealthy &/ good looking &/ intelligent &/ articulate than yourself, Something Is Wrong with that Person. Thus:
3. Dehumanize the Target
Keep in mind that you are perfect, although self-depreciating humor is occasionally necessary to fraternize with other lesser beings. But that is beside the point.
The point is that you and your loved ones are the only normal people in the world, and everyone else must necessarily be Abnormal.
Take your pick of inhuman modifiers. Do not let the dictionary confine you. Once you’ve selected a choice pejorative, use liberally and without caution. Any positive attribute in your target is then automatically rendered null and void.
This is the most important step of all, because if you think your target is human, you will emphatize and be N-I-C-E. Being N-I-C-E is Fucking Wrong.
4. ???
Shit explains itself.
5. Profit!!
Two exclamation marks are crucial here. Why would anyone bother with this shit if there’s no money in it?
Congratulations, buddy. You are now a right proper Troll (and/or Bully)!
I’d give you a certificate but I can’t be arsed.
Alternate ending:
Get hunted down by Anonymous and/or the police and be harassed (with the guidance of this very! helpful! how-to!) until the very last moment of your suicide.
Actually, the file name is ‘stars’. How embarrassing [Not really].
Actually, there’s a proper post waiting in draft mode because I wrote it all down in my notebook and I’m too lazy to type it in.
Waiting for motivation to kick in. [Waiting… Waiting… Waiting…]
Oh, and for the curious: fancy desktop stuff by Rainmeter, wallpaper from the European Southern Observatory website.
Rainmeter themes in use: Encoded / Elementary / Elegance2
Taskbar on the right set to black. Unfortunately, that means my application headers are black too. Ergo I can’t read my program names [Whatever].
Written in a moment of profound despair. Actually, replace profound with procrastinating.
FRA is killing me. I am going to fail. Today’s lunch was instant noodles. Didn’t finish it. Now I’m hungry, but dinner is two hours away. #Firstworldproblems.
When did this urge begin, this need to broadcast to the world how we feel, what we do, what we eat, what we read, the things we love and love to hate? Why is there an urge to vent: “Aargh! Badgroceries has the worst customer service evarr!!!!” at every other incident that occurs over the course of our mundane daily lives?
Why, exactly, am I even writing – and posting – this shit?
Facebook asks, “What’s on your mind?” and being ever obedient: “READ THIS. SO TRUE.” we post a new article about easy removal of dead skin on elbows.
Twitter doesn’t even bother. Just sign up, tweet away your daily meals and cat antics¹.
Good thing most starving African children haven’t got access to the Internet. Yet.
It is in human nature to share, but not especially to be self-aware (of one’s own banality²).
There is a painting of Socrates, about to quaff his hemlock; he points at the sky, authoritatively, while his adoring, grieving disciples kneel at his feet, pleading for him not to off himself, listening raptly to his final discourse³.
Maybe we all just want to feel like that, a little bit.
¹ Everybody loves cats. You don’t love cats? Get the hell off my Internet.
² Myself included. I think…?
³ I’ve never understood, though, the uncaring? unconscious? dead? dude at the far left. Maybe he’s the Rest of the World.
Post Script.
By the way. This is my 201st post. My 101st post was in 2008; I started this crap in 2006. So 2 years to reach the first 100 posts and 5 years to reach the next 100. Presuming a linear distribution…
See you on the 301st post in 2023!
Be warned, my drawings are shit. Oh. Too late.
If anyone can’t read, this is what I wrote from left to right –
Beardy dude: !@#)(*#$&(Y~~$#`)$@#(*$>?<
Someone: You must be a wizard! Take my money!
Glasses dude: Capital appreciation bla bla risk-adjusted return bla bla medium term note bla bla bla
Beardy dude and Someone: You must be a wizard! Take my money!
I lost my green pen. Sort of. I know where it is but I can’t get to it because my arms are too short and I’m not trying very hard.
Pull the Other One, It's Got Bells On 