Posts Tagged ‘follow

02
Apr
18

The Attack of the Russian Pornographic, Hacking Stalkers!

***

What the heck, people?!

I check my comment alert box to find roughly a dozen LIKEs (aka “put a pin in this so I can stalk it, later”) from what are clearly Russian websites of some kind infiltrating this blog space.  What brought this on?  Some comment I made?  Or, are these people just some biker gang of internet pests sweeping through websites on a whim?

Normally, I’d peek into the profiles of strangers visiting my space.  But, I am afraid I won’t like what I find if I even attempt to open up what these people might have–if they have anything remotely affiliated with a WordPress account.  [404 or worse.]

WordPress?  Care to explain?  And, should I be concerned?

Shall I copy/paste the IDs of the latest rogues here?  I think I shall!  [Just insert www. before each of these for the full names and remove the extra spaces I inserted so no actual links to hazards appear.]

sexy. jzxlz.ru
sexy. rphgu.xyz
sexy. yacgaww.website
sexy. 9jotaq.website
sexy. otrhhp.ru
sexy. doui.xyz
sexy. zxydqz.ru
sexy. qslosc.ru
sexy. rcie.ru
sexy.jdany.ru
sexy. erxz.ru
sexy. zkfi.ru
sexy. tzxukole.ru
sexy. qzxwz.ru
sexy. qtfns.ru
sexy. dixvp.ru

sexy. administrator-mail.ru  <–an ADMINISTRATOR to a MAIL service in Russia?  Possibly the ring leader of this gang?

This isn’t the first time something like this has come up on my radar.  Though, the last time, it was maybe 3-5 weirdly adult IDs LIKING or FOLLOWing something I wrote.  Now, it’s over a dozen and all different “people” on different postings.

Why?  Afraid to be connected to an actual person?  What is the plot behind this very conspicuous action?  Some new method of “bombing” (which was so popular for kicking people out of chat rooms when you got mad at someone, back in the day)?  Someone didn’t like something I said and decided to leave a stink trail on my words?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it, again.  When you say something in view of the public, be careful.  Because you might be showering for an audience, exposing your naked bits to some freaks who should concern you.

24
Nov
14

Meaningless Followers, Artificial Beauty

Just a quick “alert” to all the pretty (and handsome) “faces” who seem to be “attracted” to my postings from the simple inclusion of a key tag word.  It seems–if I throw in a “tag” for some topic/genre on one of my posts, I will find attractive strangers “following” my activity here.  But, if I “tap the glass” (or look behind that pretty poster), I won’t find anything other than some advertising satellite picking up a blip on its radar and maybe keeping a shady eye on my breathing.

Just because I write about food, hair, drugs or money doesn’t mean I am a regular representative of that topic/item.  So, why does one post deserve followers who are chefs, hair stylists, drug dealers/pharmacists or money…handlers?  And, if it’s worth following, why not say why or introduce yourself…and why you wish to follow?  Even if you “don’t have time” for comments NOW, you should be able to make time.  Right?  You did make time to ferret around and click buttons here, didn’t you?  Or, is this just some subway system for Nook-heads and Pad-i-wants?  [That last one was a tiny Star Wars joke.]

I recall one such pretty face I found “following” me not so long ago.  I wrote a random post about hair, asking for advice/input.  I don’t think I received much.  She seemed genuine enough from her profile.  So, I sent her a message which received no response.  But, I did get some junk mail, later.  I have no idea if the two incidents are related, but with all that can happen online, who knows.  All I do know is the pretty face was worth less than a postage stamp to me.  It’s like being handed a picture of food.  I can’t eat that.  And, a face that isn’t responding or expressing more info about their interest in your work/output/appearance is…well, it might be me when intimidated in the face of beauty.  But, in most of these cases with “faces” I find online, it’s usually trouble.

So, thanks, artificial faces and silent stalkers for adding to my discomfort in this life.  There’s a special place in cyber Hades for you.

And, for the rest of you who might be real people reading this, don’t hesitate to express your interest instead of just clicking a LIKE or FOLLOW button.  Your comment/input is valued by me.  Your silence and eyes are worth more to yourselves.

 

28
Apr
14

Blogging at Homes in the 21st Century

If you’re just joining the rest of the world in its present state, welcome to the modern world of sharing one’s thoughts via computer in the 21st century. I’m not exactly Mr. Popular. My online postings are typically spontaneous criticisms/philosophies and personal reflections. ‘Not recipes, advice columns, diet or travel journals, religious passages, school calendars, video links or art galleries (which are apparently far more common and popular). So, when I find someone new “following” my blips in the “social media” universe, I have to wonder what made something I shared so interesting.

Most of the time, these “followers” say nothing. And, more often than not, they come with these unusual corporate identities involving everything from hair care to home construction to pharmaceuticals. I suspect this is due to the addition of what we now call “tags” to my posts, or blog/journal entries. A key word might send a signal to some company’s radar system which then sends a team of robots or specialists (PC zombies swiveling mindlessly in their chairs while fumbling with something between their fingers) into action.

As it turns out, that’s just what happened to me recently. And, here’s that story:

It was a mild April afternoon when I felt compelled to pass along a few thousand words about my distrust of modern medicine and disgust with all the commercials rambling about terrifying side-effects (which are necessary to know in advance though they should neither exist nor make people their lab rats). The following afternoon, I discovered a young man with a shaved head and sunglasses–going by the name Barry Swan Pharmaceuticals–“following” my blog. “Well, that’s…interesting,” I muttered before taking a moment to fetch some lunch.

Just as I closed the fridge, I heard a knock at the front door. A stranger–faintly resembling the young man in the picture (with a fuller head of dark brown hair and more flesh in his cheeks)–stood outside in a midnight blue suit (a “twinge” lighter than black in the daylight). I hesitated to answer, fearing all sorts of uncomfortable chats I might end up having. As I withdrew, he knocked, again, stalling me in my tracks. I proceeded to the kitchen where I then heard a loud “clang” or “clap” and jumped back to find the front door ajar. The unknown man remained silent but now visibly restless on the other side. I took a deep breath and confronted the uninvited guest to my doorstep. “Uh. Hi. What can–what is it you wanted?”

Adjusting the clipboard in his pale, waxy hands, the man began, “Mr. (Writingbolt)? I’m here to talk to you about a convenient medical supply service we just recently started and why you should sign up–for a nominal fee–to have any prescriptions you might need right to your doorstep.”

“I-I’m sor– I don’t– I’m not a retiree avoiding nursing homes like the plague.” I clasped my left hand around the outer edge of the door and eased it ahead of the adjacent shoulder. “I’m not even in my forties, yet. Isn’t that what you guys always ask about in your commercials? Being over forty?”

“Mr. (Writingbolt), we’re not so concerned with your age at this moment. The entire nation is getting on board with the new medical insurance system. We’d just like your signature so we can proceed with adding you to our database of potential customers. And, then I’ll be out of your hair. By the way, we sell products for improving the quality and quantity of your hair, too, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah…no thanks. Sorry. Some other time, perhaps.” I don’t know why I even bothered to use such courtesy. As I shut the inner door in his face, I saw him raise an index finger and felt a cold wave of air rush up along my neck and the back of my hand. I didn’t give the whole scene a second thought. [At least, not for the next few minutes.]

Weeks rolled by, and I continued to find new and questionable faces (and some icons instead of faces) tracing my online activity. It’s not the first time such oddities have carried over into my e-mail (electronic mail) box. I’m not surprised (anymore) to find ads for male enhancements and the like though I am grateful most of these get automatically swept into what’s known as the junk folder.

Then, one evening, I thought I saw a car drive by the house with a curious shift in speed. Its headlights slowed to a crawl and then zipped out of sight with an unusual engine sound. Poking my nose through the sheer curtains, I looked for some trace glow of a tail light. All I could see were the amber glows of the aging streetlights and a reflection cast by the table lamp at my back. I lingered for a while, waiting to see if some wild animal might surprise me. [It’s not uncommon for a deer, goose or fox to cross the front lawn.]

Just as I was about to give up my vigil, a searchlight stream cut across my left shoulder. Shielding my eyes, I let go of the curtains and moved toward the table lamp. When my vision cleared, I squinted through the veil and noticed a dark object–roughly the size of a small charcoal grill–hovering outside the window. Another crossed behind the first and curved over the roof. I was only able to make out the shape because the bright beacon had been dimmed. And, now, I could see a small red “eye” glaring at me near the UFO’s base. [Except, this UFO was not from some other planet. It was a “domestic” disturbance of my peace.]

The moment I lowered my guard, the “drone” buzzed back a few feet and began peppering the windows with gunfire. Running down an adjacent corridor to my master bedroom, I noticed one of these flying probes scanning the items laid out on my dresser. A little alarm went off, and the drone paused its data collection to turn its targeting sensors onto me.

Before another window could be shattered, I turned and ducked into the nearest bathroom where no natural light could enter. Here I thought I’d be safe for a moment, at least. I expected to hear police sirens if anyone reported the sounds of gunfire like good neighbors. But, as I counted the beats of my heart, the lagging silence became unnerving. Eventually, I rose from my crouched position beside the toilet and tiptoed back to the picture window where my hands shook as I cautiously fingered the finely cut bullet holes. [Luckily, I had come away from the incident without a scratch.]

I sat down with a book of crossword puzzles and a cup of hot…beverage…for a half-hour before I finally heard a police car easing down my street. The mustached officer waited for me at the front door, and, this time, I didn’t hesitate to answer. But, the questions he proceeded to ask became increasingly uncomfortable. After getting a detailed description of the drone activity, the policeman inquired about my medical insurance plan. At that moment, I decided to cut the interrogation short and excuse myself to take a leak. Officer Ginsborough…or Gingerpecker…told me to watch what I “go around discussing” whether or not I do it online. Then he folded his notepad, settled for a courteous “goodnight” and returned to his station. [Suffice to say, sleep did not come easy neither that night nor any night the following week. It took me two weeks just to get the picture window replaced and two more to afford the bill.]

The next time I had the irrepressible urge to vent my frustrations online, a few days passed before I had another uninvited drone party outside my home. I could barely utter my disapproval before more gunfire sent me diving for protection. This time, they brought some sort of saw and began cutting away a portion of the roof. A brief “whomp”–followed by faint footsteps–sprang from the back door, tugging at my left ear. I felt the warmth from a pair of searchlights before a foreign pair of delicate hands shoved me aside.

Catching a glimpse of curling brown strands–burning red-orange in the path of the probing beacons–I couldn’t focus on the woman’s face as she huffed, “Stay with me if you want to live.”

[And, if you’ve seen your share of sci-fi/action films, you probably can guess how the rest of this story goes. I’ll leave it to your imagination as I remind all of you in the land of blog to be mindful of what you make public from the comfort and convenience of your personal (or office) computers. Those “drones”…they’re practically everywhere. You keep your eyes open and your mouth shut if you know what’s good for ya. But, if you’re going to “follow” or “like” someone’s post, be sure to leave a personalized comment, discussing your interest in the matter. Otherwise, you–and especially I–may never know what’s lurking in the digital shadows.]

 

 

~Writingbolt, 4-25-2014

23
Oct
13

The Trended or the Trendsetter?

Some of you dear readers might be of the sort who hate people giving them advice on how to be like someone they recently saw on TV, read about in the newspaper or met on the street. Some of you might be of the odd sort who put every bit of such advice to good use or through a remarkable filing filter. I am inclined to be of the former and not of the latter.

Who are you to tell me who I should be like? Other sources would argue I should be original. I am free to say no. To strangers, say, “Nay; stay away.” [Okay. That one wasn’t related to the subject at hand, but I threw it in there.] And, according to one soda company, be a vegetable with a unique t-shirt. [Although mixing a few dozen flavors together may be original, it doesn’t guarantee the product will taste good. I used to mix sodas as a kid, and it didn’t make the taste experience more enjoyable. I was just being a silly, experimenting kid with access to a restaurant’s soda dispenser.]

Someone recently handed me an article that boasted yet another string of quotes from a “famous” writer. [How many of you either receive these or hand out quotes from people you encounter, hoping to take up a flag like some kind of mantra for your life if you have the determination to stick with it?] And, as I read this document, I heard the echoes of a dozen voices. Voices that had already picked this up somewhere. They were repeating something passed through a grapevine from…someone.

As far back as I can remember, kids in my classes were spreading trends like wildfire. I’d go to class one day and find everyone but me wearing jelly bracelets or some weird kind of Swiss wristwatch with a rubber band stretched over the face to protect the glass. Why wasn’t I informed sooner?

Where am I going with all of this (you with shorter and shorter attention spans are asking)? You can either be TRENDED or you can be a TRENDSETTER. You may not get your name in lights, but if you aspire to be the latter, be original. Do what feels right to you (as long as it doesn’t intrude on anyone else’s domain or property).

What’s your reward? You won’t feel opressed or enslaved. You’ll never be uncomfortable in your own clothes (unless you–like me–struggle to find enough articles to fill a pleasing wardrobe) like kids who are forced to wear certain outfits by their parents and certain businesses that enforce a uniform. You won’t have to pass through anymore putty molds that make you more stiff/square or “well-rounded”/”diversified” at your own risk. You won’t spend the rest of or any lengthy portion of your life feeling like a machine for someone else’s profit only to clutch the few years of life you have left later with a bottle of pills and a boat-load of aches and pains which deny you the joys you could have lived with the universe in your grasp before your brain kicks the bucket. Hopefully, you won’t start an “ape-mad” rebellion and turn the world into flaming chaos. But, you’ll surely breathe easier instead of feeling like a number or dirt.

I’ll give you an example in recent news. Someone wanted a unique tombstone for their daughter’s grave. The funeral home/cemetery turned this idea down to keep a certain standard. Fair enough. The cemetery had a standard (as we all should). So, let the family take their daughter somewhere more open to the idea of a unique tombstone. Why should this life that is as special as anyone else be denied a last request? It just has to be done somewhere…else? Maybe that will start a trend. Maybe somewhere you’ll find a cemetery of cartoon tombstones. It will be an amazing gallery of characters people liked and continue to like…only in memory of the fans and the artists who drew them. An honor to at least two people per stone.

I may be a bit of a hypocrite to take a line from this article I read about a certain author’s advice to writers (because I just scoffed at listening to or repeating other’s advice), but, if I am going to write stories only I can write, I am going to have to do them my way. And, that may not agree with or follow someone else’s advice or rules or standards. I may not do a hundred “kiss-ups” every morning or recite “rubber baby buggy bumpers” and “roo-da-bay-ga” to loosen my lips. I may not drink raw eggs or run three miles every day. I may not write a book in less than a month for some annual contest or mimic some famous writer in the history books. But, why would I?

Hopefully, I will write with a fine English head on my shoulders. Hopefully, I will complete all of the stories I can imagine and put them in the hands of respectful readers. One day, you’ll read about me or something I wrote/crafted. You may not see my name attached because I am dead. You won’t find it on a certain trending website. But, someone read something I wrote or saw a picture I created. And, it will inspire them to take up a trend, to pick up a pen, pencil or brush and try to do what I did. Then, on that day, I’ll be a trendsetting champion, and you’ll hear me roar. [That’s right, Katy Perry. I’m “trending” you.] Maybe one day people will look back at my work and refer to me as a style to emulate like that one guy who is heralded for his tragedies full of swordplay and doses of poison…

…But, what if they try to do it their own way? What if they choose to be…original? Well then, there may no longer be any trends. It is the age of Aquarius, after all. And, no Aquarius wants to be the same as someone else. But, if every Aquarius is not like the other, doesn’t that still make them alike?

So, maybe I am writing this for nothing. Maybe all I had or wanted to say was, “No. I don’t need to copy what you did.” Maybe I’m already doing something that’s been done. Maybe every rebel is alike, too. If I don’t succeed in all of my ambitions, it’s no more a loss than that of one life in this massive yet seemingly small-minded world. I will still try to be a force of a creative nature.

If you read this far, you can at least say I fertilized your mind. So…so there. [Scurries away. Comes back to retrieve his soap box.] Carry on. Carry on. Move along. Walk. [Stumbles over something that triggers a car alarm and scares off an alley cat.]

26
Sep
13

Aware of Wandering Leeches; Concern Over Recent Followers

The internet is a mixed bag of blessings and booby traps. Make the wrong click-turn, and you wind up going down a dark exit ramp into cyber crime misery. I trust people online about as far as I can throw them until they speak with me personally so I may evaluate their authenticity.

Everywhere I go to interact with people online, I eventually run into my share of pests and questionable entities. In chat rooms, they were known as “bombers” and “bots”. Trolls and bullies are popular words these days. But, as I try to restrict the influence of a certain social media website on my personal blog here, I find myself followed by strangers from foreign lands who do not express why they are interested. I also am being swarmed members secretly belonging to some organization I can only presume is yet another online trap.

Who are you, AWOL? Why do you even call yourselves that? Why not be Trolling For Fun, Inc. while you’re at it? Why couldn’t you be Blogging for You if you were serious? And, if you are genuinely out to help people, you’re not going to just throw them a few bucks (which might not even exist) for posting ads. Promising something better than a career earned with a college degree by adding a page/link to my blog? Goodness. Who needs writing skills or valuable content when I can just slap a bumper sticker on my random rants, sit back and watch the meter digits spiral? Why don’t I just move to California and try out for every reality show out there? You sound like those loan companies who don’t care how bad your credit is before having people sign away their souls for some quick cash, cultivating a world of liars, frauds and scams.

If everyone joined your special group, what then? We’re all under some mystery thumb, accepting the bread crumbs tossed to us while kicking back and doing nothing or talking/writing to themselves? Who’s doing the reading if everyone is kicking back doing nothing but letting magic happen on their blog? Wouldn’t we all be getting just a bit too lazy after a while? Aren’t you just the internet equivalent of taking steroids or energy drinks? [And, anyone who watches the news feeds knows how that goes for sports stars.]

You can veil your true nature under pretty faces of all ages “living the dream”, but you’re not fooling me. I sign up with you, and suddenly I am MIA. I have no reason to trust any of your Agents of Wrecking Lives. I cannot block or remove you. And, if you continue to accumulate, I will have to put my foot down another way.

Is anyone else seeing these flies on their FOLLOW and LIKE list? Has anyone confirmed the authenticity of this group?

If I have crossed any lines or offended any business in any way, I won’t sweat it. I don’t need to dig my hook into some quota of total strangers to keep a chain letter going. I’ll find a more reasonable way to benefit from my effort with people who communicate from the heart (not their wallets/purses).

02
Sep
13

How Do I Relocate A Lost FOLLOW?

I don’t see a search option bar where I could type in an ID or word I remember to relocate a blog I was following.  And, I am not sure how I stopped following it.  It just disappeared the day I lost control of my wireless mouse.  I’d like to get it back.  It’s like communicating from space.  If you lose contact with the planet, it’s just a lil bit (if not a great big bit) more lonely “up here”.




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