Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label internet. Show all posts

Saturday, May 16, 2020

You're Still Wrong, May 2020 Volume 2 or Mykel's Lockdown Time

YOU'RE STILL WRONG.. 

MYKEL'S MAY 2020 BLOG

VOLUME 2

OR

How I spent my lockdown time!



by Mykel Board

[NOTE: CLICK ON ALL PARTIAL IMAGES TO SEE THE WHOLE THING]

It was a great idea, but it failed. Those who follow me on that combat zone known as facebook are aware that I often get friend requests from mysterious young women… usually showing cleavage. They’re clearly spybots, Russian plants, FBI snoops, or Nigerian princesses who want me to hold their money.


Before deleting them, I screen capture... seizing the image and then posting it. Here’s “Favors” showing two of hers.





Out of the blue comes this note from a friend to tell me that –if I flip the image left to right, and do a Google Image Search-- I can find out the real dirt.

I get a note from the Zap magazine… a German REAL PRINT ZINE that I now write for. “Mykel, do that and write about it.”

 I try it on Favors and the results come back. SELFIE! This image is a selfie.

 How may ways can you say DUH!!! I try a couple other names and pictures... Bellaa… Chery… Loyce… Thelma… equally useless… responses. Fuck… failure.

 I go back to my usual way of spending 24 hours a day inside.

You know... there’s a limit on how much one can strangle the chicken… especially when you’re pushing eighty. Any guy older than 17 knows that you can jerk yourself off until the skin turns red and a friction wound opens that hurts worse than getting fistfucked. Any guy older than 60 knows that you can stroke, shake, lubricate, vibrate, a limpy… until finally it stands… slightly better than a drunken teen… only to droop the second the action lags.

 But you’re locked at home… what else is there to do?

 I could tinker… I have a webful of instructions… I have a hammer… several screwdrivers… a drawer full of smart chips dug out from old computers. I know... I’ll teach the internet a lesson it’ll never forget. I’ll ZOOM up its e-ass. I’ll SKYPE the skin from its bones. I’ll turn all those things I hate into things that self-destruct.

 Okay, there’s Amazon… How can I make Amazon hurt itself? I know… I just got my Economic Stimulus check from Donny Trump… I’ll use it! Use Amazon against Amazon.







Oh yeah! It’ll take me a week to build something useful from a kit. Maybe another few days to modify it. Fuck it! I’ll have much more than a week to do it. Besides, once I get the thing started, it can take over for itself.

FLASH AHEAD TWO WEEKS: It’s alive! It’s alive!! And I’ve avoided all that indoor lightning, elevator beds and neighbors in the front yard with torches. All I have to do is plug it in. POW!… He moves. No corpses in his brain… just old transisters and a few parts from the dumpsters outside the Google building on Ninth Avenue. A little trial, a lot of error and…. KERPOW! It’s amazing what a bit of quarantining will do.

He’s ready. R2D-Fruity! My robot… a few days teaching hacking skills and I’ll set him loose. His mission… since the internet is already a parody of itself… with no one believing anything that doesn’t agree with their politics… and the word “facts” changes to mean “what proves me right,” and the words “conspiracy theory” changes to mean “what proves me wrong.” How can I improve on the absurdity inherent in that?

Maybe R2D-Fruity can find a way. He’s just learning now. I’ve programmed him to act like a human. He can lie, cheat, blame others for his mistakes, pretend to like bands that his friends play in even though they really suck. He’s one of us!

I sit him at the computer and pour a nice glass of his favorite beer. Then, I let him hack… hack… hack… and see what he can come up with.

First, there’s getting into the various social networks. It’s a maze that he’s got to learn.






Before long he’s got it!! Whoops… he must’ve done something wrong. Moved a cursor too fast…. swept the screen instead of zeroing in on the square. Here comes the back-up test.








The smart guy that he is, R2D-Fruity knows that the little puzzle purposely makes it difficult to identify, so the responder will click around, then maybe unclick. The actual choice isn’t important… it’s the movement of the cursor in making those choices. BINGO! He’s got it! Now… establish that social media presence.

Next task: to fix it up… the perfect internet tool… The website that will draw enough suckers to make a list whose sale will finance the KGB, the Illuminati, and the Green New Deal. Just with a little website hijacking… and some html, xtml, css, and R2D-Fruity-invented 8M2.

Everyone knows what’s most needed on an internet discussion: links to websites that PROVE YOU RIGHT!

For every point of view... no matter how paranoid or otherwise crazy… there are experts® who’ll back you up. Think Corona is a communist plot? Yeah, find it at https://www.darkmoon.me/2020/coronavirus-conspiracy-a-plot-to-enslave-mankind/.

Think Trump is a pawn of Russia? Here’s your proof:
https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2017/11/29/1719700/-Proof-that-Trump-is-Putin-s-Pawn

Think Africans invented punk rock? Hah, here’s proof they invented EVERYTHING:
https://www.reddit.com/r/unpopularopinion/comments/a7frai/black_people_invented_rock_and_roll_metal_and/

There’s no end to stuff that proves you right. The problem is that it’s all over the place. Who’s got time to Google when there’s an important thread dangling that needs your attention. How can they possibly THINK that? Bang! You need something. Why not have just one place to go to find it all? Just tell it what you want to prove and POW! There it is, URL and all...proving you right.

So, the current job of R2D-Fruity is to hijack a website, rewrite the code, and set the whole plan in motion. The signup will require an email address, and city. This information is for statistical purposes only. It will not be used for advertising or linked with other personal information. Yeah, right. If you believe that, I’ve got a dead Epstein who killed himself in a city jail for you.

Here it is. The home page for ItoldYouSo.com






Once we get the email and city, we then begin to learn about each person. Clicks on conspiracy theories? Right or left tinfoil-hat looney. Wants to prove that the Brits invented punkrock? Out of touch nationalist. Wants to convince you that meat causes cancer? Vegan Reich! Want to convince you that children have sex feelings? Ahhhh, Kiddie-Diddler. You get the idea. Before long we’ll have enough information on each person to be able to control what that person sees. When people sign in we’ll show them exactly those things they’ll agree with. We’ll present the experts® they want, telling them exactly what they want to hear… right from the get-go! We’ll target advertising that not only promotes the ideas of these people… but SELLS them. We’ll make a fortune. Waddaya think?

Huh?


That’s what facebook is ALREADY doing?

Shit! You’re right.

OK R2D-Fruity. Back to the drawing board. How ‘bout an app where people can post pictures of themselves doing boring stuff on the sidewalk? Like taking selfies with their friends… or pictures of their pets. That could be a money-maker, don’t you think?

- end -



ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you want to be notified when a new blog is published, send me an email with the subject line SUBSCRIBE BLOG. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com.


If mommy is a Commie then you gotta turn her in Dept: When the Chad Mitchell Trio wrote those words in the 1960s… they were making fun of the John Birch Society and the McCarthy era, where everyone was encouraged to be a private spy... not for themselves, but for the anti-communist safety of everyone.
These days, i
n New York City, the mayor has established a citizen’s enforcement squad ironically dubbed: Ambassadors. It’s their job to turn in violators of social distancing and mask wearing laws. Besides that, all upright citizens are encouraged to report violations to the cops… and each precinct will maintain one COVID RULE VIOLATION cop car to take care of complaints. Why? For the safety of everyone, of course.

Don’t Forget The Cork Dept: Thanks to my friend, and probable receiver of my presidential vote in 2020, Sid Yiddish, who found a great MSN story on more Corona research.
The result: it can be spread through farts! A mask is not enough to protect others! You need to do more! Wear a cork!

LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends... and enemies... in their blogs. So facebook me or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.

  • From my friend and fellow poet, Richard Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com
  • I post a blog for Kyle Nonnemon, in prison for a ton of shit. He's a smart guy, with a passion for industrial metal and a general detestation of humankind. You can read his blog at: apothelema.blogspot.com
  • Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency
  • And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out .Yesterday's Recipes
  • And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.
  • Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here
  • Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.
  • Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.
  • George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently.
  • And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.

    --See you in hell! MB

Monday, March 04, 2019

You're Still Wrong March 2019 or LOCK UP!


You’re Still Wrong
Mykel's Blog for March 2019
or
LOCK UP!



The prisoners assemble in the shape-up room. Standing at attention… most of them anyway… a few slump… in rows of twenty across… about a dozen deep. The warden is in front, addressing the crew.

“Okay, now listen up. New rules starting today,” he shouts in that kind of voice that means here’s an announcement and you’d better fuckin’ pay attention.

“This bag,” he says... holding aloft and shaking a cloth bag... like the ones in old cartoons. This one, however, is not stenciled with dollar signs. It jangles. It “is filled with keys. They are the keys to your cells... the keys to each section… and the keys to the jail itself… I’m here to distribute them.”

Inmate eyebrows frown in near unison.

We’re downsizing and figure it’s a waste to pay someone to turn a key. You can just as easily do it yourself…. So, when I call your names, I want you to walk up here and collect your keys. You’ll sign your name in the book as having received them. If you lose them, it’ll cost you big… so don’t.”

“Excuse me, sir,” says a voice from somewhere near the middle of the crowd, “are you giving us the keys to our own cells? I mean, are you saying we’re going to lock ourselves in at night, and unlock ourselves during exercise periods and visits?”

“You got it, Einstein,” the warden shouts back.

There’s a low murmur among the men… like the walla walla walla background noises in movie restaurant scenes.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” shouts the warden. “Wait for your name to be called… then walk up here and get your keys… then go and stand back where you were….”

He looks down at a clipboard. “LeRoy Anthony!” he shouts. “LeRoy Anthony, come and collect your keys.”

A guy, late 60s, slightly stooped... walks from the far end of the third row… toward the warden. Meanwhile, the warden sorts through his cloth sack… looking at the tags on the keys.

HOLD IT! HOLD IT MYKEL… What’s the point here? What are you trying to prove? You think a prison would ever give inmates the keys and trust them to lock themselves in?

It’s that damn Literary Device. She just can’t keep her mouth shut… breaking in at key points… spoiling the flow with stupid questions and stupider statements of the obvious. Just when I’m setting the stage.

“Yo! Literary Device,” I say, “Give me a few paragraphs.. I’ll explain the point… and YES, I think inmates would lock themselves in by themselves. How many commit crimes just to get back in jail because they can’t handle the outside world? How many WANT to be there? How many would be on the street sleeping over a subway vent if it weren’t for prison?”

She (Literary Device), makes a sweeping be my guest hand gesture, like the doorman at an expensive restaurant… and says nothing.

FLASH TO 2019: I sit on my bed… laptop on a tiny… shaky… wooden table… The laptop shares the table with a postal scale, a cup of green tea, the empty DVD box of NYMPHOMANIAC VOLUMES ONE AND TWO… subtitled Forget About Love.

In the next apartment, Harry Back sits at his desk, finishing his business plan for a start-up company: Your Bedroom, Your Spaceship. Through the wall, I can hear the DINGS, PINGS, and BABOOS of his computer… every once in awhile... a heartily whispered SHIT! or YES! FINALLY!

BZZZZZ! It’s the door buzzer. Someone is trying to get in the building. They ring all the buzzers until someone lets them in. Barefoot, I pad over to the intercom and shout into it.

WHOWIZZIT? AND WADDAYA WANT?

“Food delivery for Mr. Back.” comes the staticky answer.

NEX DAW! I shout back. DIS IS D. YOU WANT C.

“Sorry,” comes the heavily accented voice, “I try once more.”

In a minute or so, I hear the elevator open and someone walking down the hall. My neighbor opens his door, mumbles thanks and quickly closes it again. The elevator closes… then more PINGS and DINGS from his computer.

FLASH TO The New York Post, December 6, 2018: It turns out millennials love Amazon so much, they’d give up sex or alcohol to keep shopping there. A new survey revealed 77 percent of millennials would go without booze for a year rather than quit Amazon, and 44 percent would forego sex.

It’s 2PM. I sit naked but for boxer shorts, and an old TRIBE 8 t-shirt. I type these words on my Lenovo laptop. A large sticker on the outside of the laptop shows a picture of an apple with a bite taken out of it. The apple is in a red circle. A diagonal red line runs through that apple. Yeah, I’m making a statement.

No classes today. I have a few minutes to spare. Yesterday, I couldn’t write before I had to catch the subway uptown. I taught until 9... as usual. Then out with my students. Thursday, was Drink Club. Wednesday was Drink Club Secret (no link to that one). Tomorrow, I’ll probably go see Jennifer Blowdryer at Otto’s… or else go out for dinner with an old girlfriend… one of many who my Midas touch has turned full-time lesbo. Tonight, though, I have some time.

I still hear Harry through the wall. I mute my beeps and pips… he doesn’t. I wonder if he has his pants on yet. He’s not that good looking, so  thoughts of him sitting at a desk in his underwear do not bring blood to my limp asparagus. I bet his computer doesn’t have a NO APPLE sticker on the front.

I wonder if he ever goes out. I know he works from home. On at least one of the few occasions we’ve met, he’s told me how lucky he feels that he can be in the corporate world and not have to put on a tie. He did not mention putting on his pants.

I imagine his life: He sits… possibly pantsless... at a high-tech desk... One with an actual keyboard tray rather than just pulling out a drawer like normal people do. Behind him sits a small table… swivel distance… so he can type… turn... eat… maybe watch television… swivel back and keep working.

Lightbulb burns out? Pull up Amazon… he’s gotta be a prime member… maybe super-prime if there is such a thing. BING! Lightbulb delivered… right to the door. Time for dinner…. Uber Eats… this time… Chinese or Indian? Indian… great, there in half an hour… Wow! Vindaloo you could die for… uh oh… speaking of dying… it’s kind of a heavy hitter.

Pow! Off to the bathroom… exploding toilet inevitable… Whoa!! Almost out of Charmin! Use that last bit and call CVS for an emergency supply. They deliver and it’s quick… they’re just around the corner. Better order a dozen rolls. That’ll take care of Indian, Szechuan, and a runny nose for a month… almost.

You’re gettin’ it, huh? It’s not a fantasy about prisoners locking themselves up… with the keys to their own cells. We already have that. I go to a punk club… the only people in the audience are recent immigrants who don’t have the delivery system figured out-- or-- THEY are the ones delivering all the stuff to the voluntary inmates… self-locked in their apartments The bars empty out around 10PM… Few people eat out any more… restaurants close… unless they’re just a window… for delivery only. Ms Literary Device, do you get it now?

People don’t leave home… not even to work. They lock themselves in their private apartment cells and turn the key. They think they’re CONNECTED to other people, because they see a few memes on facebook. They think they’re involved in the world, because they can watch a YouTube video of sheep-herders on the steppe.

Folks in modern times have less physical contact (the Japanese call it skinship) than jailbirds. Don’t jailbirds fuck all the time? Isn’t that where the original meaning of PUNK comes from? The Harry Backs of the world jerk off to XNXX and that’s what passes for sex. It’s safer that way, huh? No disease. No pictures from someone else’s cellphone to get them in trouble when they run for… I donno, City Council?

The Harry Backs of today don’t go out into the world… they expect the world to come into them. They don’t go to India… they have it delivered. They don’t shop… meet neighbors at the supermarket… handle produce… squeeze the fruit. They have it FRESH delivered.

Jews and Latin folks are famous for touching each other… for making bodily contact. I once read about a 1960’s sociologist who watched same sex pairs at a table in an outdoor cafe. Two WASP American men talked to each other for an hour… they touched each other once. Two Frenchmen talking touched each other 160 times. Two Puerto Ricans… 180 times. (The report did not include Jews… but I think it’s clear that there’s not much difference between Jews and Puerto Ricans.) Two Brits… NEVER TOUCHED in an hour of conversation.

But now? NO ONE will touch. The way we’re going, there will be no one to touch! We’ll just sit in our little cells, locking ourselves in… opening the door for home delivery… then shutting it quickly again. I’m fuckin’ glad I’m old and won’t live to see 8 million jail cells in New York City. Delivery please! But then again….

Shit! There’s the doorbell. Hold on a minute…. Oh hi, you must be from the escort service… Your name’s Literary Device??? Come on, you’re shittin’ me. Well, come in… Can I get you something to drink before we start?


- end 1-

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Subscribe to the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]

I’ve been saying it for years… part one dept: I’m usually as interested in the Oscars as I am in the Superbowl... as I am in gardening or macrame. But this caught my eye from Pop-Buzz.com. It said,

After thanking his parents, the Academy, his cast and Queen, Rami stated: "We made a film about a gay man, an immigrant who lived his life unapologetically himself and the fact that I'm celebrating him and this story with you tonight is proof that we're longing for stories like this". The sentiment was sweet but fans were disappointed that Rami called Freddie "gay".

Bisexuality invisibility came the complaint. And going even further, the complainers pull out this 2005 study that questions whether straight (or gay) people exist at all.
          In the 80s, it took real OUTRAGEOUSNESS to outrage people… Today, publicly scratching your balls is enough to start a twitterstorm.
       There is something to learn from this, though. The evils of BINARY THINKING:

GAY or STRAIGHT.
Trump is GOOD or Trump is SATAN.
And its corollary,
YOU EITHER SUPPORT ANY SHITHEAD THE DEMOCRATS NOMINATE or
YOU PERSONALLY ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR TRUMP’S REELECTION.

       The second facebooker I ever banned, I banned on the stupidity of his binary thinking. “Most of my friends are not white.” I wrote. “Mykel is playing the MY BLACK FRIEND card,” wrote the now-banned “friend”… as if the only two racial choices are WHITE or BLACK. Where the fuck does he live? South Africa?
        Binary thinking is too common for outrage… but it’s just about right for stupidity. You’ve heard me talk about that for years.

I’ve been saying this for years… part 2: An article in the Financial Times says that the vegetarian/vegan boom is a bigger boom for corporate agriculture than it is for the earth. Much of supermarket vegan food is genetically modified… usually so it can take heavier duty insecticides… which in turn pollute everything around them. Also, the harvesting of crops is done by petroleum-heavy tractors.. and processed by resource-using electricity. Cows and other animals are “harvested” on horseback.
          One thing the article does NOT mention is how veganism is bad for animals. Instead of choosing to purchase humanely killed /organically raised meat, vegans take their money out of the meat-voting pool. This means fewer meat-eaters care what they eat, which means less demand to raise animals humanely… So the farmers, antibiotic users, and legislators simply don’t care.

Moving to Vietnam dept: I’ve often thought about leaving the US. It really is an awful place to live… a shithole country. My cousin voted with his feet and now lives in Thailand. I have plenty of friends who’ve ditched the US for places far and wide. I don’t know anyone who’s gone to Vietnam, though. But given that medical care is so bad here… there do seem to be doctors after my own heart on the other side of the world. Check out this Vietnamese doctor who successfully saved someone’s life by pumping beer INTO his stomach.


LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:

I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends... and enemies... in their blogs. So facebookme or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.

Here's a start:


  • David Goldberg's Busy Microbes Blog
  • And another Goldberg:goldberg.wordpress.com
  • I post a blog for Kyle Nonnemon, in prison for a ton of shit. He's a smart guy, with a passion for industrial metal and a general detestation of humankind. You can read his blog at: apothelema.blogspot.com
  • Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency
  • And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.
  • And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.
  • Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here.
  • Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.
  • Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.
  • George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently.
  • And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his  Mishegas Master Blog.


CONTACT REDUX: You can contact me on facebook or by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Subscribe to the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group:


BOING! or Mykel's December 2024 Blog: YOU'RE STILL WRONG

  BOING! or Mykel's December 2024 Blog: YOU'RE STILL WRONG You’re STILL Wrong Mykel's December 2024 Blog/Column BOING! ...