DebraMilligan.com

 

Books for Everyone!

27 May 2021

Working Working Notes


This morning, I attempted to visit my own website. First, I was presented with the big Uh-Oh, and the sad emoticon. I tried a second time, and received this more informative but equally creepy message:


This website www.debramilligan.com is currently offline. Cloudflare's Always Online™ shows a snapshot of this web page from the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine.


My visit to my own domain name was not to check who I am, a form of identity ratification that some social media addicts feel the compulsion to perform 20 times a day. I wanted to see where I would position this next essay. It’ll go under Working Notes, just as I’d envisioned, whenever the System is working. Presently, it’s closed for maintenance. The emoticon has been changed from sad to glad!

I’m not closed for maintenance. (Dear Husband states that I’m never closed for maintenance!)


Speaking of emoticons, it’s a rather large miracle that the photos of me on this website haven’t all been swapped out for corresponding emoticons. I seem unable to rid myself of an almost visceral abhorrence of having my photo taken, planned or unplanned, staged or candid. Looking at them is even worse! Dear Hubby is completely in charge of that duty, although I do make the effort of beautification and assuming an identity other than my own in the pictorial representation of myself.


I most likely hold the “primitive” cultural belief that a photograph in some way adversely affects my soul. Evidently, fear of soul-loss does not hamper any of the online instagrammers and image-narcissists, who do not possess a soul to begin with.

Ten years too late, the electronic existentialists have awakened, become woke to the point of insomnia, regarding all of their digital images and digital information collected for profit by the macabre masters of the universe. A collective anxiety attack is ongoing among the people who have lived out their existences in terms of laptop clicks, upticks, and apps to pick for their next purchase. These horrified realizations concern the appalling — épouvantable — tracking that is going on, and has been going on — for many years by those devious Digital Barons and Baronesses.


Those business ghouls have gotten rich, very rich, off of mining all sorts of personal data (Private Info) from the gullible patsies who use soche media to somehow “be in touch” or, even more ridiculous, to enhance their ridiculous business model.

The Global Positioning Monster, the GPS Frankenstein, has been very busy during the fraudulent COVID lockdowns and uncivil house arrests. The windfall profits that the Silicon Valley suzerains harvested last year, as part of harvesting those gone-with-the-wind ballots, that money also went with the wind. A one-time shot in the arm, or butt, does not last as long as it used to, or as-needed. Methinks California is heading into recession, but definitely is not leading the way on this one.


What amazes me is why Americans, of all people, are not wise to these wiseguys who, in reality, are stupid schmucks after your bucks, in the most oleaginous of ways. Perhaps I was unwittingly given an enormous advantage from the invasive species known as my Family of Origin; although I certainly wasn’t feeling advantageous at that time. Privacy did not exist in that house; I therefore cannot claim there was an invasion of something that did not exist. Let’s hope Americans wise up to that truth.

From my Wayback Machine, aka my memory, I can, at times, still recall:


A mother barging in on you while you’re in the bathroom; one much older sister reading your college Writer’s Journal aloud on the beach to a waiting audience of relatives; fifteen years later, that same sister, with fully grown adult children of her own, receives your long-distance letter and goes straight with this personal news to her commander, whom she called Mommy all her life; a half-brother phoning in to report your whereabouts, activities, and purported state of mind, behind your back, to the Switchboard Operator, also known as Mommy.


Those dismal experiences can lead anyone to become a privacy freak. I do not consider myself a freak, even of privacy, but my creative side, even my non-creative side (such as it might exist) demand solitude and the simple decency that are currently under attack in our land and in our homes. The home turf, however, ought to be re-wired in ways that some people cannot begin to comprehend. They’re completely clueless about the corporate facts of life.

An App does not exist for your convenience; it’s for Their Greedy Grabby Paws. The company offering to sell Privacy Protection is in the process of nabbing it!


Hint: Is Freaky Fox watching the data henhouse?


In retrospect, I realize that my Writer’s Journal suffered less invasion of privacy than do my “confidential” online endearments to anyone! Confidentially, this message is being broadcast to everybody. Pen and ink remain my most treasured tools and personal touches.


Several years ago, I assisted a Chinese woman in attaining her official and legal citizenship in this nation, these United States to which she’d come sometime during the start of the Obama debacle. She emailed me certain information that scared the willies out of me in terms of her safety and security in the land of supposed freedom of speech. The First Amendment is not bonkers; it is, in historical fact, the strongest weapon against filthy rich hypocrites gone bonkers against civil rights.

I cautioned her to be much more circumspect in her online communications. She was very blasé about the security of computer systems in this nation, and the intrusiveness of the usual suspects of online socialist media — until she became a naturalized citizen. Her attitude then grew very wary about her computer persona; she even contemplated changing her name. I did not want to tell her that all of the algorithmic info had already been amassed on her. I did wish to celebrate her American citizenship, and so I mailed a gift to her. Her immediate response upon receiving the little package was high-alert paranoid. She was utterly freaked out!


Since that phobic episode, six years ago, this woman and her husband have been on the move, including a very long-distance relocation in this land of liberty. She is at liberty to contemplate the ways in which the Chinese Communists, whom she escaped, and hopes to defeat, were able to electorally mangle this democracy during the past few years. I’d warned her of the subterranean crime systems in this country, and she’d refused to believe me. This idealistic young woman, who stated that she knew that part of her was destroyed “back there”, in Beijing, would not believe that this magnificent place called America possesses an underbelly that could destroy liberty and democracy in this country.

How am I so aware of that seamy side of life in America? By having been involved as an adolescent with a boy whose father worked, rather high-up, for the Phone Cops, Ma Bell, in New Jersey. I’ve lived to not tell those tales. Ma Bell got broken up, but not before she broke bones and lives.


There are gruesome facts of existence and assaults upon the sanctity of life that are intimate to, and desired by, a noxious, though outnumbered, breed of humanity, in these states, and throughout the world. The rest of us, the decent, trusting souls, who are often called fools, we either know about those crooks, cons, and grotesque geeks, or we do not. It’s difficult to remain in that in-between group of undecided where good and evil are concerned. That state of denial can be achieved, but at a horrendous, even tragic, cost to the human soul.


That adolescent boy of my long ago refused to believe the truths I tried to tell him about his own father. I was excoriated and threateningly castigated by this victim who chose to protect his abuser. It was a lesson that, learned at the age of seventeen, I have never forgotten.

This boy never grew to be a man, largely through becoming a cocaine addict by the age of nineteen. He probably never grasped the truth that his villain of a father, through his underworld business dealings, put out on the street the illicit drugs that would, one day soon, almost kill his own offspring. What goes around came around, very quickly, in that seamy little circle of double-dealing and back-stabbing.


I have also never forgotten the times when my words were used against me, and they thus were no longer my words. I therefore make judicious use of the email function to communicate to loved ones — to anyone!


Most of my electronic messages to a distant Dear Daughter form working notes for my future essays. If I ever see more than a few lines of my own devising elsewhere, I conclude some dunderheads in digit-world pinched portions of my genius, or, arrive at the happy coincidence: great minds think alike!

Going the website route in any artistic form almost guarantees a degree of intellectual theft. Practical and enforceable Internet law has yet to be plumbed, sounded, or even touched! I’d expected some legislation to emerge, by this point in time, to protect online text and images that have been filched for over a decade now. You do notice the trademarked sign on the proprietary name of digital services; but, for the most part, digital skulduggery is the coin of that realm.


Most recently proving I am not a Bot can eat up more time on a retail site than the actual purchase! Plus, if the “issue” of IT property theft is even minimally protected, where the Lawyers go next? IT Forensics and Lawsuits are the wave of now. Tomorrow, who knows where the shysters will go. Whatever pablum passed, or even introduced, in the U.S. Congress, is a good clue to the litigation-future against which to protect yourself and your intellectual property. Your intellect is a terrible thing to lose, particularly to foreigners paid by Americans to steal it.


When the thieves are the ones running the computer show, don’t expect law & order, fairness, or even justice online. Those bare necessities of life take place off-line. True commerce works from the outside in, where the body of artificial intelligence is concerned, and must live, or at the very least, survive. Internet justice is happening “out there,” in those vigilante free-market vengeance streets.

I once cautioned an online graphic artist about the dangers of his marketing his work through downloadable exquisite images: they could very easily be copied and stolen. He very stridently informed me, ALL IN CAPS, that his life would be a living hell — if he tried to combat and prevent that despicable activity. I dropped the topic fast!


With so much intellectual theft perpetrated by Red China, on a global scale, I try to think of my creative compositions as donations to the world, both voluntary and involuntary, willing and unwilling.


The time will come when the pirating of films, even ones that have not yet been made, will come a cropper for the American Corporate Cads, peddling their wares to the Chi-Comms. Those cretins never imagined they could be had — and easily. Any Joint Venture always works to the advantage of only one joint. who is typically not a jerk, lacking in imagination, as well as a home nation.


Their working notes did not work for those soulless creatures without a country.