After not writing on my registered blog for the longest of times, I thought I'd better start writing some stuff. Yes 'stuff' isn't a grammatically correct word, but it is never the less a word which suits how I'm feeling today.
Thank the Gods it's only Monday. I don't want to be late submitting my Hothouse assignment as I attempt to write a piece which isn't classed as an EPIC FAIL.
"EPIC FAIL? What sort of talk is that?" you might ask. It is with-it-speech apparently. I will be endeavouring to write a piece which is Well Dench.
In 1993, the Internet was soft, cuddly and safe. It was the days before viruses. And it was generally the days before trolls arrived to purposefully stalk the unfortunate. The term 'troll' was then simply someone, or something out of either Lord of the Rings or the Billy Goats Gruff. I haven't included the Harry Potter books for they had not yet been written.
WHY DO I NOW HATE SOMETHING I LOVED IN 1993?
In so many ways, it is now the Internet which is rotten to the core, but Social Media which is infected by people, many of whom really should have been better as a wet patch, or at least a salty mouth rinse.
These people are linked by a common interest such as a dead pop star. They frequently call themselves 'The Family' and suddenly develop extra 'sisters' and 'brothers' who frequently become known as 'sissie' and 'bro'. Am I peculiar in thinking that is odd? I don't think so because outsiders who have experienced some of the interactions between 'family members' have concluded that they are members of a cult and said "The most dangerous mad people are those who don't know they are mad."
The 'family' members usually have so little to actually do they have so much time on their hands they can work their poison, on existing and new members to their 'family'. and spread like a plague, all linked by a common interest, such as a dead pop star. Then like bacteria in the mouth, they congregate into the human equivalent of dental plaque and as with dental plaque, the human form can also be classed as a metaphorical sticky film which tries to envelope the target. As soon as they have their object in sight, like dental plaque bacteria, they secrete verbal and written acids which not only attack the targeted individual, but also their friends. Those friends who are also 'family members' (cultists) of varying degrees of dedication will split into two distinct forms.
1) Those who also have lives so entwined with the same subject as the plaque bacteria, they are certainly cultists themselves.
2) Those who are not full cult members, but will not defend the individual being attacked for fear they find themselves being targeted too. A friend referred to them as "being able to enter rooms without opening the door!"
In addition, thankfully, there are people for whom the cult subject either holds little or no interest, or they like the same subject, but cannot slide under doors. These people usually have full, busy lives.
As I have been the subject of Trolls, both on the Internet and via the old-age method of the printed word since the tern of the Millennium, it is something which I should be used to. But it isn't as easy as that.
Periodically, when I least expect it, my time is stolen, by those who would ensure I am kept from focusing on the important works which I should be dedicating my time to.
1) Those who also have lives so entwined with the same subject as the plaque bacteria, they are certainly cultists themselves.
2) Those who are not full cult members, but will not defend the individual being attacked for fear they find themselves being targeted too. A friend referred to them as "being able to enter rooms without opening the door!"
In addition, thankfully, there are people for whom the cult subject either holds little or no interest, or they like the same subject, but cannot slide under doors. These people usually have full, busy lives.
As I have been the subject of Trolls, both on the Internet and via the old-age method of the printed word since the tern of the Millennium, it is something which I should be used to. But it isn't as easy as that.
Periodically, when I least expect it, my time is stolen, by those who would ensure I am kept from focusing on the important works which I should be dedicating my time to.
To quote Marc Bolan "People come, people go. Some move fast, some move slow." Many of the Trolls have come and gone, but as one goes it is replaced by another. Some Trolls disappear, only to reappear, like a new cold sore after five, ten, or more years.
TIME TO GET ON WITH MY LIFE
Although it has been hard, finally I am getting things up to date so that I can pick up the project I have farted around with since late 1999/2000.
Then once I have completed that task, I can move onto the long list of other things I would like to do before I pass over to the other side.
On that note (an E Sharp perhaps) I will conclude, apart to add a photo of Mr. Took.
Then once I have completed that task, I can move onto the long list of other things I would like to do before I pass over to the other side.
On that note (an E Sharp perhaps) I will conclude, apart to add a photo of Mr. Took.
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