We, The Internet

"A marketplace has emerged where shame is a commodity and public humiliation an industry" - Monica Lewinsky

*

As those who know me (and that one person who reads me here) will attest, I started this blog two years ago, in an effort to reclaim and restore the health of my name ...

Today, if you search me by name online -- Google or otherwise, the name "Jeff Glovsky" -- you may be confused, a little bit ...

but you won't be alarmed.

You won't be "advised" or "warned" about me.  It won't be opined that I'm a "fraud" or running a "scam" ... egregiously reported I've 'changed my name' or "disappeared" (?, ?! and ??).

Instead, you'll see what I do, where I am and who ... What I think about you, if you try to exploit the professional, then needlessly public, resultingly personal failure in my life five years ago;

if you try to cash in on that, as some have, without even knowing me, let alone knowing the full and accurate picture back in 2010, or the context of public accusations and their actual circumstances ... Instead, just piling on hysterically, flailing in response to the damaging, (thus far) permanent online "yelps" which remain -- those few that I haven't (yet) been able to remove from the internet -- you'll end up frustrated.  And/or legally thwarted.

As some have.

There is nothing that's worse than the fears, paranoias, mistrusts and mistakes that the internet, in its ease-of-use ubiquitousness and far-flung global reach, can breed.  The righteousness, the indignations, Schadenfreude and misplaced anger it creates ... the fanning of flames, the men and women it blames ...

The damages that YOU -- "the internet" -- can too easily cause.

In some cases (too many!), your harshing and judging and chiding and "owning" ... Your relentless attacking, name-calling, abusing if you feel aggrieved or inconvenienced, or because things can't be "instant" and you're impatient ... or just.because. ... can end in tragedy.

In my case, after several years of shell-shock subsided and I was finally able to rise from the dead and fight back -- in part, by calling out new aggressors while unequivocally identifying crimes of theft of reputation -- I find, in my favor, I'm not alone.

Online shaming by kangaroo court is increasingly recognized as the bullying and intimidation that it is ... and every website that provides a one-sided, unbalanced, often unmoderated public forum for such ranting and venting:  opinions, "reviews" or accusations without verification -- guilt before innocence -- should be taken down.

Just as we -- "the internet" -- are for some reason required to "opt out" of things, as opposed to being asked to opt in ...

We, The Internet, have got everything else wrong also.  Nobody should be required to "sign up" to view a website. Nobody should need to use Facebook for "verification".  Nobody should ever accept being charged -- sorry, "authorized" -- on a credit card before making a purchase ...

And nobody should ever be blindsided online ... harassed and insulted, and forced to "fight back".

The public displays can be embarrassing.

*

“Well Hung”, ©Jeff Glovsky

"Rages" ... Quoi?

I have NO IDEA why such a sensationalistic, nonsense headline?  Seriously, CNN ...

(of course she "rages" ... She's just batshit cray cray, ain't she??)

Anyway, my own protest against the unneeded, unlicensed, untrained and unwanted is far more sedate.

“Uber Aus”, ©Jeff Glovsky

Obnoxious

For most of my adult life, since first being subjected to, quite literally, 'music free commercial marathons' on New York City radio in the late 1980s, I've opted out as a radio listener.

To me, there is nothing -- no thing -- more grating, like nails on a chalkboard or through the skull, than a shouting, hyped-up radio ad.  Annoyingly crass, too often unfunny, always talking too fast and demanding I hear ... There has been, and remains, no single thing that will make me move quicker to turn off or unplug an inaminate object, than an obnoxious and overlong music- and energy-sucking commercial on non-public radio.

Inasmuch, society's "hits" have never meant anything to me.  I couldn't say thirty years ago what you, as a kid, were 'dancing' to; I certainly can't tell you now.

Wait, that's untrue.  In fact, I'm "hipper" today ... better informed musically, from a societal (or "Top 40") perspective, than I was in that era when U2, Whitney Houston, Roxette and Lisa Lisa -- and Crazy Eddie -- all shared the airwaves and vied for attention.

This, of course, has as much to do with social media, as it does the little "rugrat" vying for my attention (guilelessly bopping now to One Republic :) ... not only the Internet, but the prevalence of Things.  Music -- news, weather, awareness in general -- seep in today, more than they ever were able to.

Today then, is a forced content (non-"on demand"), overly ad-serving platform like radio even necessary?

Along these lines ... Should anybody really be surprised about Beck winning Grammys in 2015?  Be asking, even jokily -- like Kanye stalking forth to claim "his" prize (for Beyonce!) -- "Who the fuck is Beck?"?

You know who Beck is!  Even you, little "Rugrat" ... Inconceivable back when Beck was 'losing', you're old enough now for 'lost' worlds to seep in ... You should add a Republic!  A Direction or two!  Become multi- ... Span generations.  Expand.

And above all, learn ...

to respect artistry.

Über ...

In the gross, crass world we've all become ... of "reality" monsters, Frankenstein face-making, Facebook perversions of expectations -- to be private; to be left alone, not to be "poked"; to exist without "proof" - by (over)sharing or "checking in" -- 

our unprivate, unreal world of "belonging":  of "registering", "joining", being forced to "sign in" ... Of psychotics and legal drug pushing, abuse ... Of oversex; joky promotions of gluttony ... Clashing beliefs about health, diet, wellness ...

It's a miracle any of us functions normally.

What is even "normal" anymore?  There are three (3) sexes now:  two genders and a "neutral" ... and we're asked to select one when giving birth.  We've become science fiction.  Test tube animals.  Experiments.  Targets, in both the traditional and ad-"serving" sense.

We fight back hysterically ... pinching ourselves ... Histrionically flailing for affirmation; some foothold to keep us from being subsumed ...

Yet don't get me wrong.  I haven't entered Nietszche mode ... Man, Woman, Brucekind has my respect.  My utmost support and best, fervent hopes.  And if you're in on the joke our new world has become, I want to tear that shit up!! why, I respect you that much more ...

Nietziche, y'all!

Riddle Me This

Recent input (from me) on a social network:

What fascinates me about social media is the psychological aspect.
 
What is/are the reason(s) behind the loneliness ... the histrionics ... the sad, almost desperate need for attention? The delusional hope -- or worse, the belief -- that every thought or "tweet" we make is somehow necessary/interesting?
 
That we have, and are supposed to have, "fans" - literal strangers, for whom we preen and pout and smile in "selfies" ... so that we might be "liked".
 
When did we become so sick?  What void does social media fill?
 
Were lives of people always so empty ... lacking as well in the not so distant past, the milennial capacity we now have to "share"?
 
Or do we exist today in a permanent, new "normal" state of mental illness?

Try Logging Off This Holiday Season ... It'll Be OKAY!

 Really.

Turkey Times

"(I)t's not pigmentation: it's a mentality and it's either going to work for you or it's going to work against you" 
[italics added] - Pharrell Williams

On Monday night, the week of Thanksgiving 2014, America was praying to be thankful for justice in Ferguson, Missouri.  With the fair and legally rendered decision not to indict Michael Brown's killer, a police officer reacting to public nuisance, if not threat, but then tragically incited to kill in that line of duty ... justice was rendered.

Fairly.  Legally.

The Grand Jury assembled in Clayton, Missouri -- to its immense credit and credit to all law-abiding communities of St. Loius County (and everywhere, for that matter) -- was able to separate fact from folklore ... actual circumstances from a breathless and toxic (social) media-whipped frenzy ... real life from hysterics and virulent fear(mongering).

Truth from hatred ... legal from racial ... common sense, in the end, from flawed logic and threats.

Here we go again in America!  Black against ... oh.

The truth is, this issue was never "racial".  It was intrinsically a matter of law and order, as endeavored to be enforced throughout the world:  Someone was causing trouble, someone called the police, the police showed up.

That the alleged troublemaker in this case happened to be black and his killer, the police officer, white, became relevant only when Michael Brown became killed by Darren Wilson.  Officer Wilson did not put on his badge that morning looking to kill someone (of any color).  He did not fire nervously, blindly without provocation.  This was no tragic "accident".  But it was also not an intended outcome.

As supported by evidence duly considered, Officer Wilson was doing his job:  first responding to a community's call ... then sidetracked by a threat, purportedly escalating beyond "perceived".

In America, the ability to see things as they are is no more.  It has been annilihated by an overreliance on lazy voyeurism and a nasty, judgmental susceptibility to (social) media manipulation.

Too often in America -- the Ferguson Grand Jury being a recent, and fortunately high profile, exception -- guilt, liability, blame and every worst-case scenario or behavioral motive is what's presumed ... not innocence first.

No, never that.

Bill Cosby, for example ... is a rapist now.  He IS a rapist, according to the prevailing winds of America's consciousness.  And whether or not the individuals, all pointedly with "nothing to gain" (except headlines and bylines, of course, and their names online, and/or a little more fame squeezed out of quarter hours) are corroborating in "exposing" a new flavor of Cosby ... A new "truth" wills out:  "Bill Cosby" no longer associated with Fat Albert, Temple University, Philadelphia, Jell-O, Dad sweaters, the '70s, the '80s, Saturday morning cartoons or Cliff Huxtable.

No, the New Cos is a "serial rapist" in the minds of millions ... likely now to be remembered that way, and associated these days with Spanish Fly.

... And bizarrely, curry.

'Man, I don't even like curry … ‘

Today, something like this gets taken seriously, at face value, with not even one person pointing out the context ... and that maybe, just maybe, a story about female David Letterman interns being "forced" to watch Bill Cosby eat curry backstage (lol?), no one saying a word ...

just might be a put-on.

Just saying.

Of course, rape is not funny.  The allegations against Bill Cosby are serious ... and may in fact not be just another day in the bullying internet's mob mentality.

Racism is also not a joke.  Nor killing.  Nor racial (incitement to) violence ... nor the perpetuation of inequality through misinformation, opinion overriding fact and loud and "viral" calls to arms.

"A riot is the language of the unheard.  Riots are self-defeating and socially destructive." 

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

Expressively (Irresponsibly) Yours

I don’t care if I have Ebola, I’m riding my damn bike. - "Kaci Hickox"

When I was back there in seminary school ... there was a guy who used to get bogged down in expressing himself.  Huge sports fan, he was also (like me) a theater geek - and (also like me) used to write and direct things, and strut around like Fellini.

But when it came to expressing himself in public, when not dismissively, almost disdainfully, breaking off sentences to snort in bemusement ... M.D. would flounder for words, often babbling, repeating himself.

To be clear (and fair to the guy), I also have trouble getting sentences spoken in public to make sense ... Sometimes, getting them out of my mouth is a challenge!  Being a writer, I tend to overthink speech:  when speaking, I sometimes wrestle with adjectives ... synonyms, adverbs, metaphors, "flow" ... the same way I do as I when I'm writing.

The difference is that writing, no one's listening to me.  The exercise is done in private, the sweat and the grunting remain offstage.  The only thing a reader "hears" of my written words and stories is the result, not the process.

When speaking, I can sound retarded.  Confused, marble-mouthed (... and I mean no offense whatsoever to people with marbles in their mouths!) ...

Anyway, M.D. from F.U., I suspect, used to struggle similarly.  A fellow wordsmith ... but he also used to get into these paroxysms of frustration over events that he felt he couldn't control.  There was Chernobyl ... Black Monday ... Tiananmen Square and the Hillsborough soccer disaster in England (probably the most frustrating of all to him ... big nutty sports fan that I knew him to be back then).

Then locally, on at least one occasion ... I remember him during a meeting of our relatively small theater department -- convened specifically to address something or other which mattered then -- and M.D. literally sputtering, repeating, "All of the ... BULLSHIT ... has to stop!  We can't continue with this ... BULLSHIT.

"I would just like all of the ... BULLSHIT ... to end!"

"What are you referring to?" he was patiently asked.

"Just ... BULSHIT!  I can't explain the ... BULLSHIT."

Our poet laureate emerged from that, somehow, with a new patina of respect ... as rather than being mocked, he received backslaps, handshakes and commiserations after the meeting ... not to mention going home with my girlfriend that night!

It dawned on me then that by speaking up, be(com)ing a voice, no matter how eloquent (or not) your message ... you will be heard.

Ode to a Self-Absorbed Medical Worker

I've also come to understand all too well the immediate power and limitless reach of the World Wide Web ... a potentially devastating power and overreach, which is only now beginning to be recognized and kept in check:  lids are being placed back on steaming kettles, masks ripped off and new gates erected ...  not at all "ending" Freedom of Speech, but rather, returning to civil discourse.

This is overdue.

So instead of weighing in more than I already have about the stricken "Hero" Without Sense, Dr. Craig Spencer, and pulling punches entirely on the obnoxious and causelessly rebellious Nurse Kaci Hickox, I'll instead put forth the proposition that Shoshana Roberts has a fine ass ...

Shoshana Roberts has a fine ass.

Shoshana Roberts has a fine ass.

... I CANNOT say Shoshana Roberts has a FINE ASS!!!!!!

The Image Game

on WordPress turns One

Early this year, I said Goodbye to the "Lo-Fi Project":  a year-long adventure in cell phone photography, playing around with different devices and moods.

My 'weapon of choice' in this regard has been, and still is, my trusty (and crusty) old Blackberry Bold.  This vaguely paperweighty object, despite needing an extra wide "extended" battery (held to the back of the device with black gaff tape), and having been dropped, and other things -- kicked, flushed, fogged, moistened, over and undercharged) dozens of times -- remains my baby.  Like the 35mm "moojy" it replaced, I rocked 'Triple B' until she bled from exhaustion:

Good pictures, great ones, a whole lotta crap ... Just like loving moments in a human relationship.  Sure, me and Triple B struggled sometimes; but in the end, we knew and felt each other ... had each other's backs, and were always up for a little action ;) ;) ;) ;-) !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I've spent the past year or so flirting and dancing (deep-throating) with Google, trying to make my cream rise online ... and have more or less succeeded, with the help of phoneography ...

I have long been interested in visuality.  I appreciate architecture, composition ... perspective intrigues me ... I have studied photography, and been snapping and 'scrapbooking' photos for decades.   At first, I was appalled at the integration of optic and communication technology:  the first cell phone/camera combination repelled me, not only on a 'purist' (though decidedly amateur) photographer level, but on the obvious basis of privacy, also.

Ten years or so later, with privacy teetering on the brink of extinction ... Miley Cyrus now, somehow, exhibiting "artwork" ... and our collective threshold for shame and embarassment lowered, if not erased completely, by crass "reality" with no one caring ...

I see no reason not to play.

"Fat Unicorn"

Photo(s) by

Jeff Glovsky

America's Psycho

 "(R)est assured this will all happen again very soon" - Michael Moore

With the latest act of fatal violence -- the shooting death of, now, four people in the Jewish Museum of Brussels last weekend -- thoughts turn again, or should, to the state of global mental health.

No, Elliot Rodger was not the latest ... He won't be the last.  As America weeps again, and wonders what went wrong again, and clams up for a change this time, on anything having to do with the Second Amendment -- even Michael Moore clammed up, not deigning to repeat his message of over ten years ago, in Bowling for Columbine -- we are only beginning to skate around the tip of what is actually the iceberg ...

Elliot Rodger was a sick, pained soul.  Stereotypically "tortured", almost "poetic", in his musings.  His dark manifesto, had it been written, say, a century and a half ago ... penned anonymously, and/or "discovered" ... who knows?  Might have become a literary classic, in the Dostoevsky or Knut Hamsen vein.

As a writer, I myself am tortured:  panged with jealousy, twisted, unnerved, by the guy's naive, sadly wasted talent!

... Creepy or not, in this respect, Mahbod Moghadam may have been spot on:  Elliot Rodger was (could've been) a beautiful "writer".  Frankly, we're lucky that he vented regularly ... safely, behind a pen and a keyboard, letting off many pages, and scripted videos, of steam.  Had he not afforded himself of these outlets, one has to wonder how much sooner his deranged fiction -- all those perceived slights, and delusions of some sort of "magnificence" -- might have occurred.

In any case, like all good American Psychos, Rodger pulled the trigger on himself in the end.

The Belgian killer -- the killer of Semites -- is still out there.  It's been suggested that this was a "professional" job, not in fact a random racial incident; and certainly, if the gunman in this case was some sort of targeted score settler, not particularly an issue of mental health.

So we'll leave that one for now.  Re-shine the spotlight on America.  Ask, WHAT are the stresses, the frustrations, the root causes of our epidemic?  Is it drugs?  The prescriptions we're hawked on TV each night?  The force-feeding of chemicals into the brains of our "hyper", attention deprived young children?

The constant -- CONSTANT -- barrage of "news" and useless "infotainment"?  The lack of exercise or (physical) play?  The deadly food options?  The lazy dependence on electronic voices telling us which way to turn?  The "deposits" required, the payment methods demanded, the increasing requirement of usernames and passwords ... the need to "opt-out", instead of being asked to opt IN?

Is it the frustration of trying to reach another human being on the telephone, or increasingly, in real life ... in actual face time, not via some "app"?  WHAT is driving us crazy here??

WHY are we Americans psycho?

It's not about access to guns, necessarily.  In a way, the NRA song and dance is true:  Guns don't kill people.  It's the people who have intent to kill ... Too often, like Elliot Rodger, flailing towards whichever weapon of choice comes in handy:  a knife ... a BMW ...

Guns or no guns, the Elliot Rodger story would've ended badly;

sadly, the American climate's too ripe for a sequel.

Why are we Batshit in America?