Crazy goes in cycles.
The best and most ready example, of course, is the Lunar/Lunatic cycle. That one’s as old as the moon itself, and I tend to believe that it’s true, either through cosmic employment or that brand of subjective reality that goes by the tag “self-fulfilling”.
A bit more than a year ago, there were some crazies up North (no, not you, Tina, you may be crazy, but you’re the best kind and you’re smart and funny and when you compliment my butt I start typing in run-on sentences or in this case a parenthetical cause someone stop me) who masqueraded—wait, I think we settled on the fact that there’s really only on flesh-and-blood person with three (or more?) personae. The old Steve-Al-Karen triumvirate who inculcated several of us with their messy fiction (new name! same great waste!).
Most of us were cautiously optimistic that such a grand animal (any TOTC fans get that reference?) as “Steve O’Brien” did in fact exist in the world and was willing to share such good will, good fortune and just plain goodness with the rest of the world. Good will generally runs high with me and my typical strategy with people I am just getting to know is “two-or-three tits for a tat”, a variation on the “tit for tat” gaming strategy, because yeah, I’m more of an optimist to the point of sometimes being legally-blind to reality.
So I noticed over the past couple of days an inordinate number of hits to my blog that arrived here from long-ago entries by various people (yum), among others and I asked my Eastern Seaboard Bearaphic counterpart (please to forgive, Joseph) if he might know a reason.
After some general help in the matter, I ultimately discovered the freak show that has people looking for past occurrences of faux bloggery. If that guy is really a writer, his employers must be paying him by the semi-colon.
I’m glad that well- and personally-known people are explicating and exposing the liar this time—I don’t mind being the “bad” guy, but it’s not pleasant being accused of assholery when you’re in the middle of providing links to references—but, well, I know Homer and adore him. I kinda know Jimbo—he’s one of the first people I ever linked to way back 4+ years ago. Cute as a button and quite openly identifiable in the real world. And Homer knows him and that’s good enough for me. Circles of trust are far more worthwhile than registers of refutable fact.
As Bill Maher once said, this country needs to be far more cynical. I agree, to a point. Be cynical but express it as caution, and only to yourself. Take chances, but not with your life or well-being (emotional or otherwise). Trust your instincts instead of your hope. Hope clouds reason. Hope is good, but if it turns you into a sentimentalist it’s no longer hope, it’s just folly.
I’ve met so many amazing people in the last four years. I wouldn’t trade all these pluses for the few (but some major) minuses I’ve encountered. Every living day presents both and as I look at it, the intarwebs give you a longer reach. That’s a good thing, so long as you remember that “grasp” is different than “reach”.
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