In case you don’t use Twitter, chances are, you’re missing out on a great PR train wreck in progress.
#AskRKelly was set up as a Q & A for publicity for R Kelly’s new album Black Panties. I honestly don’t know why he did this. Even years after the accusations, all I can think of when I hear ‘R Kelly’ is ‘he peed on someone’.
Apparently, I’m not the only person who thinks this, because the second the whole #AskRKelly thing started, dozens of sarcastic questions started flooding in asking about his love of golden showers and his sexual orientation.
The top pending pictures on #AskRKelly are these two;
R Kelly made a famous mistake. He asked people for their opinions. Don’t do that, especially on the internet…and extra-especially when your name is synonymous with urinating on underage girls.
Asking fans for opinions, with absolutely no restrictions in place is just asking for trouble. For evidence, I bring up the case of the ’07 Chevy Tahoe social media train wreck.
In 2006, some marketing genius probably had far too many drinks and brought up a terrible idea for Chevy. In order to get publicity for their upcoming 07 Chevy Tahoe, they invited fans to make their own commercials and post them on the website. The result was hundreds of commercials about American’s destroying the wilderness, causing global warming and whoring themselves for oil. The below commercial is my personal fave.
The positive commercials were ignored, while the negative ones live in infamy on YouTube to this day and have hundreds of thousands of views.
Have you every heard that a satisfied customer won’t tell anyone about their experience, while a dissatisfied customer will tell at least 10 people about their experience?
On the internet, a positive person probably won’t take the time to post a positive question. But the angry, the practical jokers, and the downright snarky will take every opportunity they can to outsnark each other. It is the circle of life on the internet.
Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to go ask Mr. Kelly what brand of hand sanitizer he recommends after urinating all over someone’s face.
I wasn’t always the self-confident narcissist you all know and love. In fact, there was a time in my life where being beautiful was the most important thing in the world to me. It was all I cared about.
I think that’s probably why I’m so hard on others who focus on their looks. As some famous shrink who I can’t be bothered to Google once said ‘we hate most in others what we see in ourselves.’
Back in the day, before I realized there was more to life than nice skin and good hair, I did some crazy shit to myself in the name of beauty.
I got Restylane Injections
Have you ever seen someone right after they got hit in the mouth with a 2 x 4? I think that was the look I was going for.
Despite the fact that my lips are pretty proportionate to my face, I elected to go out and have hyaluronic acid injected into them so I could look just like Angelina Jolie. Instead, I looked a bit more like this;
The injections themselves were about as painful as…getting hit in the face with a 2 x 4, which I guess makes sense. Once they were done, my lips were bruised, bumpy, and looked like a couple of inner tubes sewn together. After that, I swore off injectables forever…or at least until I’m in my 50’s and looking to fuck 20 year olds again.
I ate cotton balls
Yes, this is actually a thing, and not something I made up. Women would eat cotton balls to fill themselves up, no calories involved. Being 5’5” tall, I knew that my ideal weight should be about 85 pounds. So I started eating cotton balls instead of food, thinking I would lose a ton of weight.
Instead, I got sepsis and shit out something that looked like a bunny. I still can’t remove my nail polish without gagging.
I duct taped my boobs
Strapless bras just weren’t good enough for me. I wanted the kind of cleavage that only Lowe’s could provide. So, using several rolls of this industrial strength tape, I taped my tits until they had the perfect ‘I just got implants’ style cleavage. To be honest, the girls looked great!
Then, I had to take the tape off…and one of my nipples nearly came with it. An important lesson was learned; home improvement belongs in the home and no where near your areolas.
I washed my hair with beer
This one didn’t hurt physically, so much as it hurt mentally. Oh, the waste of beer in the interest of shiny hair! Not to mention, I smelled like a brewery for about 4 days after.
But hey, at least my hair was shiny (eye roll).
I haven’t set foot in a tanning salon since a tiny black mole on my stomach made me reconsider how much I was willing to sacrifice in the name of beauty.
Tanning was easy to give up, the second a black mole showed up on my stomach and whispered ‘malignant melanoma’ in my ear. The fact is, one person dies of a melanoma every minute in this country, and I was not willing to be that one person. I didn’t want people leaning over my casket, admiring my golden glow and commenting on how healthy I looked.
People out there, if you’re still doing the tanning thing, please reconsider. There are alternatives available that will make you look just as good, without the risk of death. Try a spray tan. It’s much faster, and you won’t come out smelling like Indian kebab.
In the name of beauty, I’ve risked my health, my life and my beer supply. I don’t know when it all turned around, or when I stopped caring. It might have been after I hit my thirties, it might have been after I came face to face to my own mortality…and it wasn’t pretty.
All I can say is you won’t truly understand how freeing it is until it happens to you. You won’t understand the weight that lifts off your shoulders once you stop caring about what you look like. You won’t understand how much better you can be until you accept that there are better things to life than just being pretty.
When I stopped caring about my looks, I tossed my Cosmo and picked up Canterbury Tales instead. It still sucked, but at least I can hold my own when pompous people start talking Chaucer.
When I stopped caring about my looks, I saved thousands on ridiculous beauty treatments, facials, cosmetics, clothes and more. When you don’t care, WalMart sweatpants are a perfectly acceptable alternative to a pair of True Religion jeans (and much more comfortable).
When I stopped caring about my looks, I stopped being afraid of getting older. Instead, I managed to look forward to it.
In the name of beauty, I sacrificed a lot. I wasted a lot of time developing something passing, when I could have been working on building my mind. So I don’t do things in the name of beauty anymore. I rarely look in the mirror and I brush off compliments (or complaints) on my looks.
There is more to life than beauty. Once you realize that…well that’s just fucking beautiful.
The first sentence says it all. Today is the very last time I will be forced to tolerate some woman telling me how much she loves Marilyn Monroe, or god fucking forbid, considers Marilyn Monroe some kind of role model.
If I had known Marilyn Monroe in real life, not only would I have hated her as a person, I probably would have bitch slapped her, just for posterity’s sake. Here’s why I hate Marilyn, in no particular order.
She wrote poetry
Yeah, I wrote poetry too, but then I grew out of my teen angst stage and stopped shopping at Hot Topix. Whenever some new writer emails me and says “I’m having trouble making sales on my poetry book’ I always say to them, ‘have you considered selling the paper you wrote your poems on to a recycling center?”
Yup, I hate poets. Poetry writing is the biggest exercise in self ass-kisserery there is. As far as I’m concerned, every single poem on the planet could be summed up in the following sentence.
“Hey everyone, look at how smart, sensitive and deep I am.”
Most poets I have met are complete douches who consider themselves above all the ‘commercial fiction’ trappings, because ‘they’re artists’. Fuck you and your poems. Writing fiction, no matter how ‘commercial’ is fucking hard. Anyone can be a poet, but it takes a special kind of person to write an entertaining, 3 dimensional world. Let me finish off this section with a poem I wrote.
The poet came to me
To discuss her mighty art
I answered her query
With one mighty fart
She bartered sex
I’m all for fucking, as long as everyone involved is having a good time. Marilyn wasn’t having a good time. She was fucking out of desperation.
The problem with that is that desperate chicks fake orgasms. Faked orgasms lead men to think they’re doing something right, when they’re actually doing it wrong. Marilyn Monroe probably set us back thirty years in achieving intercourse orgasm, and is probably 100% responsible for jack hammering.
She was nothing special
In today’s world, Marilyn Monroe would be correctly written off as the talentless hack that she was. In every single movie, she played the same exact character over and over and over again.
Don’t bring up Niagara, either. She played the same character in that too, the only difference being that someone finally had the nerve to choke her ass to death, making her a shoo-in for a ‘Best Supporting’ Oscar.
Her biggest claim to fame was fucking a Kennedy. Well done MM, your pussy is famous.
She’s an icon, while better people get ignored
The people who choose to say “Marilyn Monroe is my role model’ do so for one reason. Her beauty. The truth is, she wasn’t very smart, she wasn’t very talented, and she was a complete fucking coward. She allowed other people’s opinions to dictate the way she should run her life. She never had children, even though she wanted them desperately, because movie producers told her not to. She never used her fame for any good cause at all.
I mean shit, I hate Angelina Jolie too, but at least she had the decency and the liberal guilt to adopt half of Cambodia.
Despite not doing anything for anyone and having no courage whatsoever, this woman has had countless biographies written about her and movies made about her life. I’m not exaggerating either; I researched it and lost count around 250.
Meanwhile, Sacagawea only gets a coin, despite the fact that her life was so much more interesting than Marilyn’s. You know why? Because she looked like this;
Apparently, Sacagawea was too brown and not symmetric enough to warrant a movie about her life. Same goes for Susan B. Anthony.
God fucking forbid you be an unattractive woman with an opinion in this country. Apparently, if you’re a dumb blonde, with big titties, big lips and giant anime eyes, you warrant a biography, no matter how little you did for the world. However, if you’re an unattractive woman who does an assload, all you get is a $1 coin no one ever fucking uses.
Look people, Marilyn Monroe was not a fucking role model… unless you’re looking for a role model who can show you how to put on false eyelashes or make your lips look bigger with red lipstick. She was a sub par actress, with no real skill, who gave up on her real dreams (family, children, etc.) because she was a coward. Please don’t model yourself after that type of person.
Beauty isn’t something to aspire to. It’s a genetic condition. Develop a real skill, for fucks sake.
Personally, I don’t believe in role models. I don’t believe that you should model your life after someone else’s. I think you need to make your own life, and make it matter.
But if you absolutely must have a role model, please pick someone besides Marilyn Monroe. Sacajawea, Susan B. Anthony, fuck….Charles Manson would be an improvement over MM as a role model, because at least you would be using your god damn mind.
I am part of a dying breed. I am one of the last people on earth to not be part of the Do Not Call list.
I don’t really bother. Telemarketers don’t upset me and I rarely pick up my phone. Most times, my cell phone is somewhere in the bottom of my purse, dead because I never charge it.
So today I did something rare. I picked up my phone as a number I had never seen before (323-489-7473) came up on the display. The following is an actual transcript of what happened next.
Mystery Caller: (thick Indian accent) Hello ma’am, this is John, from Microsoft. Who am I speaking with please?
Essa: No fucking way your name is John. Why do Indian people continue to underestimate the intelligence of Americans? Just because we’re fat and lazy doesn’t mean you need to dumb down your names for us. Come on ‘John’ what’s your real name?
‘John’: I assure you, it is John. May I ask who I’m speaking to?
Essa: (eye roll) Haberdashery Vondella Sharoom….but you can call me John.
‘John’: OK, Ms. Sharoom (dude does not like to work off-script) I am calling from Microsoft today because we received a warning about your system. A hacker has tried to gain access to your computer.
Essa: Wow, that’s some excellent customer service. You guys really monitor every computer for hacking attempts? (note to idiots; Microsoft does not monitor your system for anything. They just provide the computers)
‘John’: Yes ma’am, we do.
Essa: Even for my MacBook Pro? Does Apple know you’re doing this?
‘John’: (Clearly not understanding computers…or the limitations of the Patriot Act) Yes ma’am, we do. Now, in order to help…
Essa: Does that mean you guys can see all the porn I download? Because I have to say, I’m a bit uncomfortable with that.
‘John’: No ma’am, we only monitor for hacking attempts.
Essa: What kind of threat are we dealing with here? Like a Denial of Service, SQL Injection, cross-site scripting…?
‘John’: All of those, now if you’ll just…
Essa: Well, that’s good then. Those are website based attacks. You should probably call the webmasters of the sites being hit.
‘John’: Actually ma’am, it is your site being attacked. Now if you will just…
Essa: “Dirty Asian Super Sluts With Weird Birthmarks” is being attacked!?! I’ll kill the bastards!
‘John’: Yes, now if you’ll just go to our site at stopmicrosofthacking.com
Essa: (does nothing) Ok
‘John’: Now, there is a screen where you will need to enter your personal information so we can open a support ticket.
Essa: (types a bunch of random letters on her keyboard so it sounds like she’s going to the site. Her computer isn’t even on) Ok, working on it now. I just have some questions.
‘John’: I am here to help.
Essa: (guesses that they are probably phishing for passwords) Why do you guys need my email password?
‘John:’ To ensure that is has not been compromised.
Essa: Ok. Is it the same reason for my Facebook password?
Essa: Ok, John. Listen, I’m a really slow typist, so what I’m going to do is I’m going to put you on hold. Now, I need you to wait, in case I have questions. I’m not hitting submit until I talk to you again, ok?
‘John’: Ok, I will wait.
Essa: I’m serious John, if you hang up, I’m going to delete everything. I need you to wait.
‘John’: I will be here.
Essa: (leans back in her chair to watch an entire episode of ‘Locked Up Abroad.’ She occasionally takes John off hold, to ask stupid questions like ‘what a middle initial’ is, just to make sure he’s still holding. Finally, after 45 minutes, she takes John off hold) You still there John?
‘John’: Yes, ma’am
Essa: I just have one more question before I submit this.
‘John’: Certainly, what is that?
Essa: How many people do you think I saved from getting taken by your stupid scam while I kept you on hold for 45 minutes?
‘John’: (dead silence)
Essa: Because I think at least 5 would be a fair estimate, but I could be giving you too much credit. How many people do you actually manage to scam in a given day? Give me that number, and I’ll work out a ballpark based on an average for the 45 minutes I had you sitting there, twiddling your thumbs, while I watched people get put in jail who deserved to be there less than you do.
‘John’: (hangs up)
Some people just don’t understand basic telephone courtesy.
Today I read a long, poetically written blog post by a man urging us all to ‘disconnect’ from our wireless, computer driven lifestyle and get out to enjoy nature. The post was approximately 2000 words long and filled with pictures taken by a digital camera.
Dude had somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 likes and 25 comments agreeing with him. All I could do was roll my eyes.
Oh, the hypocrisy…
For established bloggers out there, I ask you to do a little self estimate right now. How much time do you put in per week to update your posts and drive traffic to your page? If your answer is like mine (a fuckload), you are probably going to get where I’m going with this.
Every week, I get a new meme on Facebook about how I should stop spending my time online and instead, go enjoy nature.
Let me break this down. I get a meme from someone who;
- Downloaded Photo Shop onto their computer
- Uploaded or created a ‘nature’ related image
- Typed out a quote about nature or copied some Robert Frost poem that they researched on the internet
- Put it all together on Photo Shop (not a task for amateurs, BTW)
- Uploaded it to their Facebook page with 2000 friends
- Wrote an entire blog post about it
- Did all this without any irony whatsoever, despite the fact that everything they just did required the use of the computer they’ve been telling everyone to get off the whole damn time.
To me, that’s a bit like handing out steaks with ‘become a vegan’ written on them in A1 sauce.
Here’s the thing people; if you were truly a ‘nature’ lover, then you would be outside enjoying nature. You would not spend 4 hours writing a 2000 word post on your established blog with 800 followers, telling everyone else to go outside and enjoy nature. Your love of nature is only surpassed by your love of sniffing your own ass.
Also, stop shoving this ‘nature’ agenda down everyone’s fucking throat. You’re not going to make me feel like a failure because I don’t spend three hours a day appreciating the simple beauty that is the design of a rose. I have more interesting things to do.
Jesus, have these people even seen Japanese anime porn? Trust me; roses got nothing on what lipless Asian lesbian vampires do with tentacle monsters!
Fuck nature. I am not a nature girl. I’m a digital girl. You can’t hack nature. You can’t estimate your tax returns with nature. You can’t look up porn on nature…unless you want to watch a couple of deer doing it. Even then, you have to lure them into doing it with salt lick and doe pee, and it only works from October to January. But with the internet, you can see a video of deer doing it right now!
That wasn’t the only video I found on YouTube either. That was just the first among 30,000 results found with the search phrase ‘deer doing it.’
I look forward to the day when our universe is chrome and glass. I look forward to the day when we’re all driving hover cars and living on space ships. Fuck trees, I want my own robot maid!
I don’t enjoy nature and I’m not going to be guilted into enjoying nature by someone who probably spends more time on the internet than I do. I like the convenience that computers allow, so stop telling me to unplug mine.
If I want to see nature, I’ll fucking Google it.
Everyone in the world knows that the classic film “Reefer Madness” was nothing more than a government propaganda campaign, filled with misinformation, designed to instill mass panic as an excuse to increase the fines on marijuana possession.
If you don’t know that, you are far too stupid to be working my page. Please leave.
My last post included some of my own pro-weed propaganda. Usually, people who disagree with me on my stance on decriminalizing marijuana just ignore me. However, I did receive an anonymous email filled with supposed facts and information disagreeing with me.
It was one of those really obnoxious emails, where all the words were in fucking caps lock and it was twelve paragraphs long. The a-hole even had the audacity to excuse his excessive caps lock with the statement ‘sorry, my caps lock key is stuck.’
For future reference Anonymous, your computer problems are not my problem. Before you expect me to read a fucking email, drop the $20 on a new keyboard. Caps lock is an assault to the eyes. Also, next time, you can change everything to lowercase just by highlighting it all, holding down shift and pressing F3.
Even better anonymous, that helpful little computer tidbit is not all you’re going to learn from me tonight! I’m going to pump you full of forced knowledge by debunking every single one of your ‘facts’ (or FACTS, as you like to scream it).
Marijuana is a gateway drug.
Correlation does not equal cause. While I will agree that marijuana users are about 100 times more likely to try harder drugs, that does not mean marijuana is a gateway drug. Generally, people who have access to marijuana also have access to stronger drugs. This does not make marijuana a ‘gateway’. It just means that they have more access to drugs than people who have never tried them.
If you don’t believe me, check out this quote;
There is no conclusive evidence that the drug effects of marijuana are causally linked to the subsequent abuse of other illicit drugs.
Nope, that wasn’t written by the “High Times”. That was written in a congressional report related to scientific evidence that marijuana is not a gateway drug. The study was conducted by some of our nation’s top scientific researchers…i.e. people who actually know how to turn their fucking caps lock off.
For those who like metaphors, saying that marijuana is a gateway to other illicit substances is like saying living near a Taco Bell is a gateway to obesity.
Marijuana causes brain damage
Actually, Anonymous told me that ‘marijuana causes Brian damage’. Poor Brian. Had I known I was hurting the talking dog in “Family Guy”, I would have just switched to meth.
Seriously though, there has been no conclusive evidence of any long term brain damage related to marijuana use, even habitual marijuana use. The only true evidence is related to short term memory loss that occurs while the person is using. So, if you get high before “Two and a Half Men”, you probably won’t remember the episode the next day.
I actually consider that a plus.
Marijuana is a drug
Yup, it sure is. But based on the loosest definition of drug, i.e.;
a medicine or other substance which has a physiological effect when ingested or otherwise introduced into the body.
everything is a drug. When you eat food, you stop feeling hungry. That’s a physiological effect. When you breathe air, you stop feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen. That’s a physiological effect.
The fact is, there are far more harmful drugs out there that are considered perfectly legal. Hydrocodone and Oxycodone are highly addictive and widely available with a prescription. Both of those are opium derivatives. You know what else is an opium derivative? Heroin.
So you can get heroin with a prescription, but medicinal weed isn’t recognized as an appropriate medical choice, even though it hasn’t been proven to be physically addictive? I’m calling bullshit.
‘Drug’ doesn’t immediately equal ‘bad’. In fact, many ‘drugs’ help people. Ever heard of penicillin, Anonymous?
Marijuana causes car accidents
I concur. Here’s the problem. When someone gets into a car wreck, they might be tested for alcohol use via a breathalyzer. However, they are rarely tested for marijuana or other drugs, unless the accident causes a fatality.
Even in cases where the user is tested following an accident, there is really no way to know if they smoked immediately before the accident, or a week before. Check out my how to pass a drug test article for more info on that.
There’s no way to know, because there are no laws on the books that list a ‘legal’ threshold. For example, to get charged with drunk driving, the BAC has to be at 0.08 or above in most states. There is a clear cut law that allows officers to charge people with a crime. The law is clear cut because it’s perfectly legal to drink, but it’s not legal to drive drunk.
There is no clear cut threshold for marijuana because marijuana is illegal period. If marijuana were legalized, a clear cut threshold would be set and we would see far more convictions for marijuana related driving offenses. That’s not because more people would smoke marijuana. It’s because the state would actually be able to fucking regulate the use of marijuana while driving.
Marijuana turns people into zombies
I disagree. Marijuana affects the pleasure receptors in a person’s brain, making them more likely to derive pleasure out of simple tasks.
For people like me, who actually have difficulty feeling emotions period, marijuana makes us much more interested in life and willing to participate in new experiences. When I’m using marijuana, I’m far more likely to leave the house, go to the gym, or eat because things are actually interesting again. My pleasure receptors are open, making me want to take part in activities.
Also, if you think that argument is bullshit, I’ll go ahead and announce my case study; Mr. Michael Phelps. Mr. Phelps is the most decorated Olympian of all time…and he’s also a pot smoker.
He was busted in 2009 partaking in the ganja. While he apologized, he also proved to the world that people who participate in recreational marijuana still have the ability excel. Also, here’s a list of noted celebrity marijuana users, along with their net worth, just for posterity.
- Jon Stewart, $80 million
- Bill Maher, $23 million
- Bill Gates, $72 billion
- Lebron James, $110 million
- George Clooney, $180 million
- Lady Gaga, $190 million
- Ted Turner, $2 billion
- Jennifer Aniston, $130 million
- Morgan Freeman, $150 million
- Martha Stewart, $300 million
- Seth McFarland, $150 million
- Maya Angelou, $28 million
- Madonna, $650 million
- High Hefner, $43 million
- Rihanna, $90 million
Who says potheads are lazy?
Marijuana causes cancer
Marijuana is less of a cancer risk than cigarette smoking. In addition, no conclusive studies have been found to date that show any significant increase in lung or other respiratory related cancers. The majority of cancer cases found in marijuana smokers were incidental findings due to the fact that the marijuana smokers also smoked cigarettes.
Also, alcohol and cigarettes both cause cancer, along with a whole host of other diseases, and they are perfectly legal. Invalid point.
In the future Anonymous, know who the fuck you’re dealing with when you send poorly informed emails about the risks of marijuana use. I’m not a lazy pothead in denial. I work 12 hours a day. I’m simultaneously writing 3 new novels and I’m working on a television pilot as we speak.
And I still manage to find the time to be politically involved with the legislation designed to decriminalize marijuana use.
Meanwhile you, Mr. anti-pot smoker, probably work 40 hours a week stocking shelves at a grocery store. When you get home, you spend your time sending people smarter than you all-caps emails filled with misinformation. You might want to ask yourself who’s doing more for the world here.
At this point, I think smoking a joint or two could only help you.
Today is Hermann Rorschach’s 129th birthday. Yeah, I think it’s stupid to keep celebrating birthdays after someone is dead too, but it makes good blog fodder.
Anyway, in honor of this momentous occasion, I’ve decided to psychoanalyze myself using some of Rorschach’s common patterns.
In this pattern, I see that slave girl Oola from Star Wars – Return of the Jedi, starring in an orgy porno with a disembodied ejaculating penis with arms, while the spaceship from space invaders looks on.
Analysis – My brain is filthy…and stuck in 1987
This is clearly Bigfoot getting a pap smear.
Analysis – Weirdly, I always thought Bigfoot was a boy. Guess I’m sexist.
Cockroach dance party between two penis towers.
Analysis – Anyone else think it’s weird that I’ve seen genitals in every single picture? This Rorschach guy was a fucking perv! Seriously, he was worse than those dudes at Disney.
This isn’t a Rorschach test. This is what happens whenever I photocopy my ass.
Analysis – I have a demon living in my anus.
Based on my own analysis, I have this to say. Psychoanalysis in 1921 was apparently nothing but guesswork in a lab coat. Simply stated, I don’t have a lot of faith in a doctor who can’t even diagnose his own appendix rupture.
Happy birthday anyway, Hermann Rorschach. Thanks for the entertainment.
When you ask someone what they think of as the most romantic movie scene, you can generally expect a pretty cookie cutter response. They might mention the prow scene on ‘Titanic’. They might mention Harry’s speech in “When Harry Met Sally.” They might mention Noah scaling the Ferris wheel in “The Notebook.”
For me, the most romantic movie scene I can think of occurs at the end of ‘Hannibal’.
Clarice finally thinks she has Hannibal cornered. The cops are on their way. With sirens screaming in the background, she handcuffs Hannibal Lector’s wrist to hers. But Lector has one last trick up his sleeve. He pulls out a meat cleaver. It raises high in the air…fade to black over the sound of one distinct chop.
In the next scene, we learn that Hannibal did escape. We assume that it is because he cleaved off Clarisse’s hand in an attempt to free himself. Then we see him on a train, sharing a boxed lunch with a small boy. The camera pans down and we see his left hand is missing.
Hannibal cut off his own hand, rather than hurt Clarice. Now that is fucking love.
In case you can’t tell, my opinion on love can be pretty extreme. Chasing me down at an airport, singing a stupid song to me, or sending me flowers isn’t going to win me over. If you want me to swoon, you need to be willing to sacrifice a body part.
I always assumed that my extreme nature would result in my dying alone. Then I met you, internet stalker.
We met about a year ago. I’d just posted an article that included three pictures of me. You sent me a long rambling message. You said you were a fan. You told me I was pretty. I thanked you.
The emails kept coming, and they kept getting weirder. One spanned paragraphs and paragraphs. It was long, rambling and incoherent. I have to admit I didn’t understand much of it, but I got the general gist. You loved me…and you wanted to wear my face as a mask.
It was the nicest thing that anyone had ever said to me.
Most women are freaked out by stalkers, but I’m not most women. I spend a lot of time alone. I have nightmares about dying in complete obscurity. I have dreams that I disappear and no one ever notices. Those nightmares go away when you send an email.
Because as long as you’re around, I know there is one person out there who is obsessed enough with me to want me dead…and who fears my death like the apocalypse at the same time.
To me, that is just fucking beautiful.
As long as you exist, I will never cease to matter. For one person out there, I am their whole world. I am the love of their life and a ‘soul sucking, bitch, whore cunt’ all at the same time. I am the girl sending you coded messages in all my posts. My eyes really are looking right at you in my gravitar picture…even though it’s a profile shot and I’m actually looking somewhere off to the left.
I heard somewhere that stalking isn’t about love. It’s about power. I don’t believe that, internet stalker. The balance of power in our relationship is purely one sided. I am the sun by which your universe revolves. You are the guy that sends me weird obsessed messages that actually improve my self esteem. I ignore the threats and I accept the compliments.
Internet stalker, our dysfunctional relationship might be the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had. Know that in my own way, I love you. I don’t love you like a lover, or like a brother. I think I love you in the same way Jodie Foster loves John Hinckley Jr. Through his obsession, he made an average looking girl with subpar acting skills a household name.
He made her Clarice…not the one in Hannibal, but you get my drift.
So thank you internet stalker. Most people would tell me not to engage with you, but half the reason you love me is because I never listen to people. You make me feel good. You make me feel relevant. For that, you deserve to be recognized.
And if you ever hit the Orlando, Florida area, there is an empty apartment right across the breezeway where you can see right into my bedroom.
Leaving the blinds open for you,
Since I was a kid, I’ve always loved hidden passages. I grew up in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. When I was little, there was nothing I liked more than finding those hidden mountain trails and places people set up in the woods.
My fascination with the hidden continued as I grew up. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I never wanted to go to the party everyone was talking about. I wanted to go to the hidden parties. My weekends were spent whispering passwords to convenience store cashiers, so I could get complicated directions to some party in a run down warehouse.
The destination was never what excited me. Most of those parties were just drinking and dancing in a run down place (with significantly more X). Those places in the woods I found were usually just hidden playgrounds and swimming holes. It wasn’t the destination that was fun. It was the way I got there.
When the internet came out, and I found my first hidden webpage (it was an LSD recipe I tried with limited success), I realized that the search for the hidden, and the sometimes forbidden, never had to end.
I knew about Silk Road before it was a household name. I’d browsed their listings of arms dealers, assassins, drug dealers, hackers for hire and more, just for a chuckle. There was literally nothing that you couldn’t find on Silk Road.
Silk Road is gone now, but that doesn’t mean the deep web is dead. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.
When you go to Google and you type in a phrase, do you realize you are only searching 3% of the web? It’s hard to get a solid number, but the deep web is estimated to be almost 500 times bigger than the searchable web.
It was hard to get my head around the deep web at first. See, in my job, my goal is to make my clients’ pages more visible. It’s to get them to the first page of the Google search results.
Deep web users have the exact opposite goal in mind. The last thing that they want to see is their page anywhere near Google. Half the reason Silk Road got busted was because they got too fucking big. Silk Road and deep web became synonymous. Silk Road was the number 1 ranking site among sites that didn’t want to be ranked. They were the kings of the invisible internet.
But just because the king is dead doesn’t mean the land is gone. The invisible web is still there, it is still flourishing, and you can still find it.
You can’t just go to Google and type in ‘deep web’ or something ridiculous like that. Any sites that do come up are not deep web sites. They’re scam sites. Deep web sites don’t allow bots to search their pages, so deep web sites won’t show up on Google. You might find a listing of links, but I can promise you that when you click on one, you’ll get an error page instead. The deep web can’t be accessed through standard search engines.
The main passage to the deep web is through something called The Onion Router, otherwise known as Tor.
Onions? What the hell do onions have to do with anything, you might be asking.
You probably are all very familiar with .com, .org, .edu and other extensions like that. In the deep web, most things are found through .onion extensions.
You can only get to these extensions though the Tor browser (or other deep web browsers that sometimes suck). Some people say it’s a bitch to configure, but I didn’t find it that difficult. It might have changed since I set it up though. Also, I’m pretty good as this stuff.
Most pages you find on Tor will be listed though another pages links, because again, these pages are not trying to be search engine friendly. Helpful deep net users will compile pages of links for users to browse. The Hidden Wiki is also a decent place to search, though many pages listed on the Hidden Wiki are actually scam websites. When it doubt, try to get to it through a standard Firefox browser. If you can get there on an unencrypted server, it’s not deep web.
Some pages are commercial, for buying illicit black market items. Everything from fake passports to escorts and high powered weapons will be found on the commercial sites. Payment is through something called ‘Bitcoin’, which is possibly the most anonymous way to spend money on the internet.
There are also groups simply for people who don’t want their internet usage monitored by anyone. I think we can all agree that I’m not just being a crazy Libertarian when I say that the government watches most of us a bit more than we’d like to think they do. Political groups, including groups that embrace civil disobedience and anarchy, can be found in the deep web.
Personally, I prefer Tor because I value my privacy. When I’m not using Tor, I’m using a VPN. What I do on my internet is my fucking business, US Government. If you’re going to spy on me, you’re going to have to put in the effort.
Also, I find that the technical people I need to reach to do research spend more time in Tor forums than they do in standard forums. Why? Because you have to be smart to get to those forums. Trolls, sexbots and idiots need not apply.
A few words of warning before you go checking out the deep web
Understand the acronyms and terms. Do not go clicking wildly, or you are going to wind up with an eyeful of something you can’t unsee. Here are some things to avoid.
- CP and Chan – Both acronyms for child pornography. Yes, Chan is usually anime, but this is the deep web we’re dealing with. On the deep web, chan is child pornography…generally extremely young child pornography. Sick fucking bastards.
- GM – Genital mutilation. Yes, there are some people that get off on this shit.
- Adult – Rarely are you going to find any kind of normal ‘vanilla’ porn when searching the deep web. Most porn sites want to be on Google. So, when you find a porn site that is actually trying to hide itself, what do you think is on it? If your answer is ‘nothing I want to see’, you are right. Keep your adult searches to the regular web unless you’re interested in getting scarred for life.
- Pedo – Seriously, guess…This is a sick, sad fucking world we live in.
- Hard Core – The deep web’s ‘hard core’ is a whole assload of different from the regular web’s ‘hard core’. Generally, ‘hard core’ means ‘snuff’ when you’re surfing the onion.
- Mechanic – The ‘mechanics’ on the deep web don’t deal with cars, unless you’re looking to have someone’s brake lines cut. Some of these dudes are scammers, some are the real McCoy. Either way, they’re all fucking nuts. Best avoided.
Exercise extreme caution. Tor is filled with hackers. Disable your webcam and microphone. Do not download anything from anyone and do not give out your personal email address. Even something as innocuous as a logo can hold a tracking cookie. The deep web is where you find the most advanced hackers out there. These are not the guys and girls that send you chain mail. These are the people that can find one tiny hole in your system and exploit it. Think of it this way. The regular internet is like walking through a park on a sunny Sunday morning in Greenwich, Connecticut. The deep web is like wandering down a darkened alleyway in Detroit at 2 am on New Years. Vigilance and suspicion are your friends.
Nothing is ever absolutely private. Once you have Tor rolling, you need to disable cookies, java, flash and cache. If you have no idea how to do this, you do not belong on the deep web in the first place. Understand that no matter what you do, if someone wants to find you bad enough, they will find you. Just ask Ross William Ulbricht.
Tor is slow and tedious to use. This is because it is the best place to search the 97% of the internet you all can’t see every day. It provides constant encryption as well, and bounces off a series of volunteered computers, which slows it down more. As a result, you might get booted occasionally. Simply stated, be cool. If you don’t need to be on Tor, don’t use it. Use a VPN instead. My personal favorite is ‘Go Trusted’, but ‘Hide My Ass’ is good too. .
If you’re smart, Tor can be a fun place to explore. Not every site on Tor is nefarious. In fact, many sites are just for people who want to avoid the idiots in the world. If you can believe it, the forums with drug users and hired assassins are actually quite a bit more civil than any book forum you’d find on Amazon.
Also, it’s not illegal to use Tor. It’s not illegal to browse the sites you find on Tor…with the exception of CP and Chan sites. If you’re on those pages, I hope you get busted. I hope you get busted hard and get a 400 pound cell mate, with anger issues, a PCP problem and a 10 inch penis.
Yeah, I personally put drug dealers and assassins on a more acceptable scale than kiddie porn searchers. Fucking sue me.
I would encourage most people to check out the deep web at least once. Not doing so is like going to a fancy hotel in Tijuana and never leaving your hotel room. It’s there. Enjoy it. Experience it.
But stay the hell off the kiddie porn sites. That’s just gross.