Tag: speaking my truth

  • Crier dans le Vide

    I sometimes wonder if I’m not simply destined to fall, fail, and never be successful at anything.

    I’ve been deplatformed from my last social media outpost, TikTok, becaue of my strong anti-Zionist, anti-Israel stance; for 78 years, one country and one country ONLY in the Middle East has been the cause of violence and ethnic cleansing: Israel. Either directly or through its NATO puppets. Another loudmouth goyim silenced by the forces of Zionist totalitarianism. Most “Israelis” aren’t even Semites, for Christ’s sake, they’re the descendants of mainly Polish migrants who went from settling as welcome refugees in to outright stealing Palestine, after WWII.

    This means that I’ve successfully been banned from essentially every social media platform, and each time, for good intent or ill, it’s been my fault:

    • I was booted long ago off Twitter before it turned bad, for (non-actionably) threatening the life of Jared Leto; while my opinion of him hasn’t changed, I wouldn’t go back to the Neo-Nazi paradise that is X if Elon Musk paid me a billion to do so, himself.
    • Tumblr, I got banned from on a technicality: apparently hating on all the incest-themed posts and “ships” counts as sexual harassment.
    • Bluesky banned me because I kept complaining about all the unsolicited vaginas that kept showing up in my feed from sex-workers, whose posts I had supposedly opted out from seeing. Apparently complaining to Bluesky about sex-workers is bad, because one of the women who founded it is a sex-worker or former sex-worker and she did not like the fact that I did not like scrolling and finding a dripping cunt in all its glory filling my phone or computer screen over breakfast or on my morning commute.
    • As to Facebook, it’s a dying shopping mall full of old people walking around who never buy anything, on a Tuesday morning, in April.
    • Reddit? Yeah…I did two full tours in Reddit’s Fajulla-like early 2000’s era before I decided to pull out.
    • What about Instagram? Well besides feeling deceived that it wasn’t a weed-delivery app, I never figured out how to get it to work, or how to interact with…anyone…on it.

    I’m not denying It’s my fault for being banned: speaking without apology and with great and vociferous indignation and rage at the things I railed against violates a LOT of Terms and Conditions of Use.

    But the truth is, in this day and age, if you do not have a social media presence, you are a societal non-person. Anonymity is something many people online crave, both online and in their personal lives; the surveillance state extending itself into “smart homes” makes 24/7 warrantless monitoring a feature, not a bug. And people not only welcome it, they pay a monthly subscription for the privilege.

    But for someone like me, a creative, especially a writer, anonymity is a curse. I don’t even want to get fucking paid, I just want to have people read what I have to write, and see what I have to say.

    I’ve spent my life trying to be a successful writer, and by any measure, the shitty space opera I was engaged in writing 20 years ago has left its mark. Something serious, real, and proper Sci-Fi that I wrote previously died of COViD, only to be resurrected and die again, this time at the hands of the author’s own failures.

    Sometimes I lie awake, remembering a bully I had in high school…he had made it to the Canadian Olympic Track Team, and was scheduled to compete in the…I want to say 1988 games.

    He made my life a living hell until, one day, I made the evil eye at him and told him, “I curse you.” Back at the time I was the school’s Devil Worshiping Student Witch and jocks are a superstitious (And judging from grades, stupid) lot, and he froze in fear, begged me to take it back. A week later he broke his leg. He never made the Olympics. And he never came near me, ever again.

    In most magical rites, a curse can return upon the utterant seven times sevenfold; I believed my curse was righteous, but that didn’t necessarily ward me against karmic reprisal. Sometimes I wonder if that curse I laid in high school is the reason I’ve failed to achieve any of my dreams, and seen all of my hopes and desires dashed.

    I also think about one of my lifelong enemies, a witch – inspired by me to learn the Arts – and medicine woman who has gone out of her way in the past, up until just a few years ago, to make me miserable.

    Yes, I do believe in what other people call “magic.” No, I don’t believe in it the same way everybody else thinks it is – even other Witches.

    At the same time, I’d describe myself as an Atheist, because I don’t believe that any Human religion has any spark of the divine.

    If it does, then it deserves mentioning that Jehovah, “God” of the Jews, Christians and Muslims, was the youngest god of a Proto-Hebraic religious pantheon, and was a god of war jealous of his lack of stature among the other gods. So even if there is “a” God, or MANY gods, there is no reason to assume any of them are divine, benevolent, kind, omnipotent, or even sane.

    What a meandering, narcissistic screed this is; I certainly doubt my sanity, though I am nothing if not lucid. Lucid in a nightmare of my own making.

    By being deplatformed just a few weeks after my book, They Came in Peace relaunched, my hopes for the future seem dashed: I have sold all of four – FOUR – copies, since it was released. And that was WHEN I had a place to chat it up.

    I failed while exercising my right to free speech to remember that the people controlling the private free speech platforms have the right to expel anyone they want, for reasons valid, invalid, or whimsical. My much beloved Section 2(b) of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. does not apply.

    And it’s not writing that I’ve failed at: I’m good at make words say the things, but clearly I’m not that great when it comes to building an audience or marketing myself. I’m bad at a lot of other things, too: things that really matter.

    I was a bad son to my mom; I’m a bad friend, uninvolved in the lives of the only two friends I have left in my life, and I’ve mistreated them both far more than they deserved, long before I became lucid about my own nightmarish state of personality.

    Before I got my head together, I was a bad husband, never able to do enough of anything, and a bad father who alienated his children because of how badly he handled his divorce, and I lost the last years of my children’s childhood to my narcissistic rage directed at their mother.

    It seems like by the time I got my head screwed on straight and my problems diagnosed, treated, and given the coping mechanisms to survive with, I was left in a wasteland of my own making; a desolate, empty life.

    They Came in Peace may very well be the most significant book I will ever write.

    If things keep going the way they are, it may very well be the last book I ever write.

  • I Have No Answer to Your General Except from the Mouths of My Cannons

  • Limbo

  • Section 2(b) – Freedom of expression

    Section 2(b) – Freedom of expression

    Provision

    Similar provisions

    Purpose

    Analysis

    1. Does the activity in question have expressive content, thereby bringing it within section 2(b) protection?

    2. Does the method or location of this expression remove that protection?

    (i) Method of expression

    (ii) Location of expression

    3. Does the law or government action at issue, in purpose or effect, restrict freedom of expression?

    (i) Purpose

    (ii) Effect

    Selected issues

    1. Section 2(b) – A requirement for positive government action?

    2. Does section 2(b) protect a broader right of access to information?

    3. The open court principle

    4. Access to legislative proceedings

    5. Journalistic immunity

    6. Application of section 2(b) in private litigation

    7. Expression by public servants