I used to think that I was going too far when I was complaining about things that happened to me online. Then I talked about it in a therapeutic environment, and the reality is, I’m not keeping grudges. I’m writing a diary entry. I’m talking about something that happened, and it hurt. It really hurt me.

So, after I got permabanned from Reddit for telling people that they were committing a felony (they were harassing a woman by posting revenge porn of her), I got signed up for Reddit Pro. I’m not sure how it happened. (Tonight, also, Reddit gave me the ability to sign up as a verified publisher. What the fuck. I’m still permabanned.)

Then the e-mail came.

I got invited to a Reddit conference.

A stuffed animal was promised after the conference.

So I went.

The conference ended. They sent me an e-mail to place my order for it. I placed my order for it. And I waited.

And they said, cheerfully, no.

No.

In my civilization…

… offering a stuffed animal to someone and then saying no, cheerfully, is akin to a mortal sin. It’s the sort of purposeful hurtfulness that makes you never talk to someone again.

Of course, everyone who’s ever hurt me has some sort of excuse. It’s never anyone’s fault: it’s always just an oopsie woopsie, fucky-wucky, here and there, and nobody ever takes responsibility for anything.

And I get part of that. I get that Reddit’s systems maybe don’t talk to each other. I get that, when I contact various levels of support, that maybe there’s no one person who can solve my problem. I can be understanding.

But I hate you. I really do. I hate that you gave me hope, and that you offered me something that I liked, and I went… oh, that’s nice. I’d like to get that.

And then you just… cheerfully denied it.

There’s a lot of bad shit that social media services have done to me. There’s a history of things, and I’m well-aware that, in a lot of different businesses, there might not be one person who’s fucking everything up. The system itself is woefully incompetent, and people get their feelings hurt.

But I still won’t ever forgive you. Because I’ve already gotten famous 16 or 17 times, and even if I wasn’t about to stumble blindly into it for love again, I’d end up getting famous another time, and I’d have some chucklefuck asking me for an AMA. And the answer is no.

Besides— how could I?

I’m permabanned.

The post The Reddit Stuffed Aminal appeared first on icze4r communication.

I absolutely have no time for the Internet’s stupid nonsense anymore.

In any fucking fashion.

The Predicate

I’m not going to pretend that I’m super famous. Humanity has made me famous against my fucking will 16 goddamned times and I know how that all works: humanity puts the spotlight on me, and then it takes it away and pretends that I was never the subject of interest. It is pointless to pretend that it works any other way, because I’ve seen it 16 fucking times now.

This is what you all do: you make people famous for no discernible goddamned reason, and then you throw them away. If said person has anything negative to say about this, you then claim that they are now ‘has-beens’. It’s stupid fucking grade school bullshit that I’ve been subjected to, again, 16 fucking times. I get that you’re like this, but I don’t have to like this.

I’m also well-aware that none of my previous outings being ‘famous’ have bled into one another, because human beings are fucking stupid and have the object permanence of a goddamned baby.

That having been said, note, it’s too late tonight to digitize this, and, keep in mind, I’m handwriting this, waiting for my sleepy pill to take effect— even if nobody considers me to be famous anymore, I still have some of the trappings of fame. I’m Verified on YouTube, and I’m about to get Verified again there, once I have the time to actually care enough to go through the steps to do so on another channel. Also! I have a Google Knowledge Panel, and all and any mention of me is eternally verboten on Wikipedia. (A story less interesting than how I got excommunicated from the Catholic Church.)

I also want to mention that I’m the subject of several people’s dissertations, and the potential existence of my penis is a matter of scientific study and curiosity.

I don’t know what kind of ‘famous’ that makes me.

But it makes me whatever enough to pitch a bitch about this.

The Problem

On one hand, I’m famous enough to get shit for it. On the other, I am apparently not considered famous enough to, say, have weird and erroneous bullshit corrected on my record.

I’m just going to come out and say it: somebody’s full of shit. Nobody wants to do the right thing by me and actually fulfill their end of the social contract, which means actually doing the shit you agreed to do when you listed stuff I’ve worked on, made, or have been a part of. And Google is like the worst fucking culprit for this shit.

Never-you-mind that Wikipedia decided, in all its electric toaster wisdom, to forever bar any record of my existence from being recorded on their website. That’s not what I’m talking about, here. (Although that’s a fascinating story that we’ll probably never get to.)

Alright fine I’ll just come out and fucking tell you: around 2014 or 2015, a baker’s dozen’s worth of admins on Wikipedia became so deranged by knowledge of my existence that they decided to, I don’t know, uphold a pact to keep any mention of my existence off the wiki forever. Who does that shit? What the fuck?? For what fuckin’ purpose, really?!

The end result of all of this, is, while I have enough whatever to still (and probably eternally— yikes on that) be considered at least some form of Public Figure (for the rest of my days), there sure are a lot of people acting like they don’t give a shit. I’m not saying that my name instantly sparks recognition: I’ve introduced myself in real life to people who once considered me the Antichrist incarnate online, and there was not a single bit of recognition behind those doll-eyes.

The more I catalog what happened with this, the more that I realize that the vast majority of my problems are probably because I pissed off just the right people. Like when I didn’t get Verified on Twitter? Because a stakeholder said no. Imagine! Somebody didn’t like me enough to keep me from getting a meaningless graphic next to my name. It remains to be seen if the same bullshit will play out on Bluesky: though, given that, out of every hundred people, somebody weird gets the mark, I might just have a chance with that. (They Verified a warlock. I have a shot.)

I still have no idea what’s going on with Meta. Constant denials; no explanations.

Time after time, again, I feel as though I’m famous enough to get banned; but not ‘famous’ enough to get any perks. It sucks.

If I were super fucking famous, maybe I’d get actual service. But, I don’t want that.

I just want the social contract to be upheld.

The Social Contract

If I make something, and it’s listed somewhere in a way I’ve agreed to, I want it to stay there. I want it to stay listed, and I want it to remain in one piece.

For whatever fucking reason— and I’m looking at you, multi-billion dollar companies— none of you motherfuckers can do this.

I don’t have the time to go through denial after denial when I ask you to fix simple stupid shit. Give you an example: on Google right now, one of the covers to my books is missing.

I send them a message, as they have provided a way for me to do such a thing. I say, hey, the cover’s missing. Could you fix it with this image? Thanks.

And they said no.

Twice.

The book is hosted on their servers.

The cover of the fucking book is hosted on their servers.

They still won’t fix it in my Google Knowledge Panel.

Why?

Also, why the fuck did my book just vanish from Walmart and Barnes and Noble? Why the fuck is there a specific e-mail that I can use to contact Barnes & Noble about this??

WHY CAN’T YOU JUST KEEP MY SHIT ONLINE?????

i JUST want to set this shit and forget it.

Why do you make it so difficult?

I have a life, now.

I can’t be doing with this.

The post The Impossibility of Dealing with Google appeared first on icze4r communication.