September in North Carolina means back to school and here comes a hurricane.
This year, our first contestant is Dorian. Dorian has made lots of new friends in the Bahamas and is now coming to pay our kith and kin in Morehead and the Outer Banks a visit.
The current projected track will keep(?) Dorian out of Wilmington (this is good) but run it right through the middle of Morehead City and Beaufort (very bad), then inside the Outer Banks before it crosses back out to sea just north of Avon. So if you live anywhere between Bald Head Island and Atlantic Beach, the surf is up (WAYYYYY UP). Morehead and Beaufort look to get totally dicked… and maybe New Bern doesn’t get quite as hammered as it did last year. Maybe. The Outer Banks will get what they get every time: over-washed, Highway 12 will get its annual rebuild and the fishing will be spectacular.
Per the current track, once Dorian crosses out to sea, it doesn’t see landfall again until Halifax, NS.
As I bang this out, Wilmington is already getting banged on (high winds, lots and lots and lots of rain, tornado warnings… the usual) and this weather will show up in Morehead in about an hour or so. Tomorrow at this time, this will all be over – except I expect the effing power will be O-U-T and this year I am cooking EVERYTHING in my freezer as soon as I hit the “publish” button on this post. I hate having to throw food away.
So this is what I know. Have a splendid weekend.
You never run into anyone named Gladys anymore. Can’t say that I have run across many Mabels as of late either. This may or may not have some deeper meaning.
After a couple of months of figuratively beating my head against a wall, I finally found a company that will install a carport for my old-age crisis car that I really should not have bought, but what the fuck. Cocoa Black will enjoy getting tickets in it after I kick the bucket.
I made the drive up to the mountains to spend some time with Uncle David. We went out to his local range each day I was there and played with many different pew-pews. In fact, we had so much fun he has invited me back. As I am headed to Nashville in late September to see King Crimson (again), current plans are to stop in and spend a day or three at Casa David on the way home. Decisions… take the M1A or the SIG 716? Both? Maybe the SIG M400?
It’s hot as the hinges of hell around here, but as I stare at the calendar, I observe that it appears to be August, and I seem to recall something about it still being summer, so maybe that explains the heat. I’m fixing to make it a bit hotter. The tree guy finally came by a couple of weeks ago and took down the limb shedding monster pines that were looming over my house like malevolent eldritch sentinels from times long ago. I have acquired a 55 gallon drum and am going to try the burnination trick on the stumps to ease the cutting of my lawn by my faithful yard man.
That’s all I got for right now. Boredom is good.
Upon entering Emotikon Army’s channel. MalwareBytes immediately went into protection mode and killed a trojan.
Emoticon Army is running an IP tracker, which, unless the rules have changed yet again, is a violation of the Ivlog Terms of Service.
So who was sitting in Emotikon Army’s channel while she is planting trojans on everyone’s PCs?
Is lilpunk1984 a site mod? I don’t know, but I feel fairly certain she knows the terms of service like the back of her hand.
The IP tracker is iplogger.org, and as of this writing it is plainly visible in Emotikon Army’s “wall area”.
That link will take you to seven (7) screen caps worth of comments that Son Child deemed necessary to write to herself on her Ivlog channel today.
You will have to read from the bottom to the top if you want to observe the actual order in which they were written, BUT…
Since this is Son Child we are talking about, it doesn’t matter if you go from top to bottom, the middle to the top and back to the bottom or hold it up to a mirror and read it backwards, it’s going to make the same amount of sense either way.
You may wish to consult with a physician before reading, as Son Child has been known to induce migraines, seizures, whooping cough and anal fissures in her audiences.
So to begin with, those of you interested in Faroe’s bannination need to read THIS POST first, as it led directly to the events that triggered Faroe’s (hopefully permanent) vacation from Ivlog. There has been much speculation about this on other blogs; hopefully this post will put some of that to rest.
On Wednesday evening I was super-oping in an Ivlog channel and dropped the ban+ hammer on Faroe. The channel owner, a kindhearted but misled young lady, unbanned Faroe because she felt that he was just a poor, misunderstood Quasimodo of the internet, in need of love, caring, and understanding (omg, I just made myself puke a little). By way of background, Faroe was under instruction from the Ivlog staff not to have any interaction with me regardless of circumstances, and while I had not been given the same rules, I studiously avoided him and his many channels as I did not want to be in a position of being perceived as provoking him.
When Faroe returned to the above reference channel, this is what he had to say:
So I screen-capped this pleasant post and sent it in to Ivlog Support with a brief reminder of my situation vis-à-vis Faroe. About 10 minutes later I got a response stating that the matter had been dealt with. My assumption was that he had gotten another warning and we would continue to play the Faroe Drive By Game well into the future… but then a guest came into chat and said Faroe was site-banned. This was shortly confirmed by Faroe himself, as he was on VL spewing forth great large amounts of invective towards any and all parties involved in his bannoration, excluding himself, of course.
What apparently happened (and I base this assumption on the many different versions of events as told by Faroe) is that an Ivlog site moderator told Faroe that he was being given a final warning about talking to me, and Faroe told the moderator to “Fuck Off.” Faroe’s story changes every single time he tells it, but when he gets excited and his mouth starts running at 100mph, the bit about him telling the Ivlog moderator to fuck off is mentioned consistently.
So there, dear reader, is how it went down from my point of view. Faroe was an ongoing source of friction both in my weekly shows and in any channel he could find me in. Obviously, Faroe is not a person that can be dealt with reasonably, so I took my issues to the powers that be and cited the terms of service he was in violation of and requested relief. The person who actually got Faroe banned was Faroe. All I can “lay claim” to is setting the table, the giant bald man-baby pulled up the chair and ate his own lunch.
Faroe is now on VL carrying on like an imbecile talking trash about Ivlog, Ivlog’s owner, Ivlog’s eeeeeevil rogue site moderators and little old me. During one of his tirades, the Queen of Mercury herself popped in and:
Note that Patty, the notorious chat troll, who is also banned from Ivlog, was madly stirring the pot, winding Faroe up like a cheap coo-coo clock.
So that’s what happened, when it happened, why it happened, how it happened. Faroe’s a jackass, he popped off at me a couple of times too many, I escalated within the framework of the rules, and Faroe committed chat-suicide BECAUSE HE COULD NOT KEEP HIS BIG FAT MOUTH SHUT. End of story.
And so it has finally happened that PreventedJimWeenus has been shown the egress of Ivlog and is back on Possibly The Biggest Pile Of Steaming Horseshit On The Internet, where he mutters threats and imprecations against all his many enemies,
real and imagined.
Jimmey (yeah, that is how he spells it) has been known to some of us for a very long time and that he has been smote with the ban hammer comes as no surprise at all, we just wonder why it took so very, very long for the powers-that-be on Ivlog to act. Jimmey has never been what anyone would describe as subtle. He can best be described as a 21st century Rasputin, a walking, talking disaster waiting to strike anyone foolish enough to interact with him. Much like Rasputin, he seemed to be able to hold sway over the weak-minded, everyone else saw him for what he was.
I am told by persons in whom I have some significant trust that he spoke very highly of me this evening while broadcasting from his new internet home. Ideations and pronouncements of death, disfigurement, all the usual adolescent fantasies one would expect from someone with Jimmey’s various mental disorders were bandied about by Mr Wackypants. I truly wish I could say that I qualify for such exalted hatred from dear Jimmey, but sadly, I did not have jack shit to do with his bannination from Ivlog. No, I had to be content with kicking him out of every channel I found him in. I know not who actually claimed his scalp, but I feel fairly certain Jimmey made it very easy for them, as Jimmey was given to typing some fairly outrageous shit from time to time.
Count on the fact that Jimmey will not see it that way. Nope, Jimmey’s capacity to accept responsibility is so tiny that science has yet to develop a means of classifying it. Jimmey will claim that a vast conspiracy of no-goodnicks did him in, stabbed him in the back, bushwhacked and otherwise did him in by means both underhanded and foul. That’s what Jimmey thrives on.
WHY, why, why, why do you do these things? When you start a song and it’s playing, someone in your channel is listening to that song. Hell, someone in your channel might even be enjoying that song. So why, in the name of all that is unmentionable, do you stop the song dead in its tracks to play something else?
Do you hear terrestrial radio stations do this? Do you hear satellite service radio stations do this? Do you hear radio over cable TV stations do this? NO, YOU DO NOT HEAR ANY OF THEM DO THIS. So why do you do it?
The rules for broadcasting are fairly straightforward. Don’t play a disco track in the middle of a Led Zeppelin set, okay? That seems pretty obvious. Don’t depend on some online source for your music (this is the single most broken rule there is, and one day when the clouds crash and youtube can’t pirate videos anymore, you fuckers will all be weeping). Don’t play the same song twice, because that confirms what we all think: you aren’t paying attention to your shit. Show up and stay on camera. Sure, everyone needs a bathroom break once and again, but be in your show, otherwise you are just mailing it in, and I can just as easily NOT see the broadcaster on real radio. Stay off of skype calls, don’t shove food in your gaping maw, DO play the long remix version, have your OBS or X-Split already correctly set when you start… all this is obvious.
Most importantly, when you start a track, let it finish. Don’t be a lame ass chowder head and kill the track because you are tired of it/didn’t mean to play it/someone requested a new song/whatever. If you did fuck up and play it by mistake, then letting it finish is what you deserve for fucking up to begin with. Mistakes should be painful, otherwise we do not learn. If someone requests something, let that track that’s playing finish. Once you start down the road of killing a song because some pisshole in a snowbank asked to hear “Tiptoe Through the Tulips”, it never ends, because I am gonna wait about 20 seconds and request some god awful metal noise just to piss the Tiny Tim fan off. And thus is the path to chaos laid out before you, each listener trying to undercut the last. And that is no way to run a show.
I can pretty much assure you no matter how much you think a song sucks (say… anything and everything by Abba), someone likes it for some unholy and demented reason. You owe it to the people who took the time to come in to your miserable channel to at least try to make them happy, and if that means you need to mute the music on your end for 3 minutes, do the right thing.
Not calling any names here, but someone with the initials of StudMuffin cut off “I’m a Man” by Chicago because some douche wanted to hear something else. What the fuck were you thinking, StudMu… er, anonymous broadcaster person?
Faroe is now history.
I have tried to tolerate his hapless shenanigans in the past, as I understand that he faces mental issues that limit him in many ways, but at some point enough is enough and tonight… enough.
Over the past few weeks, Faroe has been a regular visitor to my Friday night shows. Sometimes, he is content to blow up my PM inbox (and my superop’s PM inbox as well) while he remains in Do Not Disturb mode – which means there is no conversation, just a one-way avenue for him to carry on about what assholes we are. Other weekends, he will do the usual “my computer specs are blah blah honk snort blah, so fuck you” posts that we all love and cherish. This week it was the old subscribe/unsubscribe 1,050 times a minute trick that sets the new subscriber message light to flashing madly. Just to add to the evening’s message, he then came in to chat and:
So about that remark he made, “stop being 2 faced against me”… Faroe is not very bright, in addition to his various socializing disorders. It is a very common sight to see a guest enter Faroe’s chat and type something along the lines of “Faroe, (insert user name here) said you eat doo doo and dress funny.” Faroe will explode upon reading this. He launches into a tirade of profanity and literally starts to vibrate in his chair. He takes this anonymous (and patently stupid) post directly to heart and loudly declares his undying hatred of the alleged doo doo accuser and swears he shall make their crops wither and die, then sow salt upon their fields so that their offspring shall know misery for seven generations.
This happens pretty much every single time he broadcasts on Ivlog, the people who do it know Faroe is a big, bald wind-up toy with a potty mouth, and they take great delight in winding Faroe up and pointing him in any particular direction just to watch the fun. Tonight, he was pointed at me.
I have not had any interactions with Faroe, other than his less-than-pleasant visits to my show. The whole “2 face” thing would imply that I am saying something nice to his face and then talking trash about him when he is not present. Sorry, pal Faroe, but I have never said anything beyond “hello” to you, EVER. As far as talking any trash, other than discussing your various mental disorders with the staff of the Ivlog psychiatrists, you just aren’t talked about at all. You aren’t important enough to be talked about.
So tonight, after he went off in my chat, a nice person tossed me a pro account and Faroe got what he asked for. And unlike Faroe, who clears his banned list every time his meds get changed, mine is pretty much carved in stone. You’ll have to find someone else to be upset with now, but I am sure your guests will find your next target in short order.
Not a lot of posting by Cocoa and myself. It has gotten decidedly hot in our respective regions of this great and fair nation, too hot to post, too hot to think.
Let’s see what’s going on at Ivlog…
Which is not to say that nothing is going on. Someone got mad, someone got upset, someone thinks they got even, someone unfriended someone else, someone laughed until their face ached, someone took off too many garments, someone drank too much while on camera, someone sent someone else a PM designed to start a fight, someone else didn’t care.
Ivlog isn’t dead, mind you, but it is starting to smell a bit funny.
It is not too often that I get caught in the no-man’s-land between first and second base, but tonight I was tagged out, good and proper.
You got me.
So through the courtesy of an anonymous friend, I was
treated exposed to video of roughly 90 minutes of Lipshitsian Theater that happened early this morning. It would appear, dear reader, that M. Latrine has set sail into the west and “discovered” the New World, which in this instance turns out to be… my old user names.
My sincerest congratulations. You have found that which was not hidden, and the skill which you employed (well, let’s be honest here, it was the skill which your viewers employed) is on par with what I would expect any novice googleteer (it’s a word now, dammit) to possess.
Kookie, for one brief moment, stop talking and attempt to engage your brain and THINK. I do shows. I am on camera when I do shows. That means people can see me. So if they come in to a channel that says “Joe_King” or “Les_Izmoor” or “S_Colaser” (or any of the other user IDs I have cycled through), THEY. STILL. SEE. ME.
Do you understand that?
I typically (but not always) run the Popeye avatar on my broadcast channels. If I were actually seeking to be furtive, do you think I would continually fly the same flag?
So much like our good friend, Chis Columbus, you have found that which was always there. Contrary to your opinion, Joe/Les/Mork/etc have never been hiding from anyone. To this very day, when I am on camera, people will come into that channel and greet me by “Joe” or “Les” or any other user name that they remember me by. It’s the internet, so it just doesn’t matter what anyone is called – except to you. To you it matters a great deal.
In any event, I am very pleased that I am still living between your ears, rent free, 24/7. Also, thank you for telling us about Lizzy calling you “M. Latrine”. That is fucking hysterical.
I know we all fondly remember that day when Scruffy announced that her end was near, and yet… somehow, some way, she has managed to hang on, raging against the dying of the light, her brave and pure spirit refusing to be vanquished by the forces of Hashbrown’s Syndrome, mercury poisoning, botulism and terminal athlete’s foot.
So it was with no small amount of amusement that I encountered this absolute gem of a post by that amazingly insane woman on her website:
Yes, the (actual) owner of The Biggest Steaming Pile Of Horseshit On The Internet can’t read, because she is allergic to paper and ink. Think about that for just a few minutes, dear readers. Marvel at the sheer, unadulterated audacity of that statement. Ponder the implications of being unable to tolerate the touch of paper or ink. Scruffy cannot touch money (which is bullshit of the purest ray serene), newspapers, most restaurant menus, her mail, toilet paper, kleenex, cash register receipts, instruction manuals, the wrappers on her McCheeseburgers, the labels on her many pill bottles, napkins, TV Guides, milk cartons, paper towels, or (and this is the worst) the wrappers on ice cream sandwiches.
I’m not going to bother addressing the entire “I can’t read books” bullshit, because damn near any book you would care to name can be obtained in digital format and viewed on a video display, be it a Kindle, a tablet, a PC monitor… hell, you can read a damn book on your phone. Now Scruffy, if you decide you are allergic to knowledge, that is something I would be inclined to agree with. Also, severe allergy to civility, honesty, integrity… you get the idea.
Please forgive my grammar. I’ve been drinking. I shall continue to drink until I fall asleep. Then, I may drink some more. Dan Wilson has died, and this is personal.
Kind of pissed about this. I’ve been carrying a defective heart around for well over a decade and goddammit, I was supposed to be the next one on the train to Wherever. Dan, you took my seat. Now I can’t even call you up and say WTF.
Dan was, beyond any shadow of a doubt, the very best human being that ever logged into the swampy morass that we call social broadcasting. He simply had no peers in terms of kindness, intellect and that rarest of all human attributes, grace. He is gone now, and we are all immeasurably poorer than we were.
I’m a touch sketchy on the details (the when, the where, the mechanics) of his passing. I swapped a few texts with Mrs. Dan – I needed to confirm that what I sincerely hoped was an idiotic rumor heard on the Ivlog was in fact just a rumor, but it wasn’t. Not much to say at that point, is there? You offer to do whatever you can, but short of performing a 21st century version of raising Lazarus, it’s all just words. It leaves one feeling a bit (well, more than a bit) empty. I can do all sorts of shit, I have many interesting skills. Can’t do a single goddamn thing about this.
Dan was arguably the single most fortunate man who ever lived. For those of you who have had the pleasure of meeting Mrs Dan, you know EXACTLY what I am talking about. She was a perfect match for Dan on every level (smart as a whip, stunning, and had that grace thing in spades). I know not which angels guided the two of them to meet, but it was the best day’s work they ever did. A remarkable woman, a remarkable couple.
Dan was directly responsible for steering me onto Taylor guitars, and I suspect he approved of the one I ended up buying, even if it wasn’t the exact one he played. Whenever I would see him in chat and say “Hey, I got a new toy”, he was just as excited about it as I was. G.A.S. (Guitar Acquisition Syndrome) will do that to you. It turns a normal (well, sorta normal) man into a little kid with a new bike. Between the guitar lust and our somewhat eclectic tastes in music, a friendship grew pretty quickly. He listened to what I played, I listened to what he played, and we were delighted when we discovered we were both fans of some fairly obscure performers. It’s a rare thing when we find someone with tastes as peculiar as our own; it’s something to cherish.
We shared some other interests as well, we were, after all, of an age demographic that sociologists liked to refer to as “baby boomers”, born in the fifties, growing up with Davy Crockett coonskin caps, hula hoops, black & white TV that picked up 2 (3 if you lived in a big city) stations, Project Mercury (NO ONE under the age of 60 can name the original seven astronauts), The British Invasion and your parents could (and did) smoke everywhere, including the doctors office (not making this up, kids). In other words, just a perfect friend. Never had to explain a damn thing to Dan. He was there, he knew.
So my friend Dan has passed on, and this is where I say “gone but not forgotten”, not because it’s a cliche, but because it is the exact word-for-word truth. I have read in various tomes that there is a philosophy that as long as someone is remembered, they have not truly perished. So I would ask the two or three of you that read this, remember Dan. Remember just how good, how decent, how kind, how remarkable Dan was. Keep him with you, in that secret part of your heart.
I need to drink more now.
…they first make illiterate. With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, I must note that as of late, the resident know-it-all of Ivlog has been increasingly erratic in her writing.
The other night I happened by her channel and the scrolling description was, as usual, detailing some absurd aspect of her tawdry existence. What caught my eye was “I was the victim of two attempted seduces…”. Now that just doesn’t make sense, and of course, me being me… well, I had to tell her so.
I pointed out her misuse of the word and made a couple of suggestions (“I was the victim of two attempted seductions” and so on) and just to twist the pen in the wound, I observed that grammar is hard, especially if you are from New York City, where English isn’t really spoken.
I know you will find this hard to believe, but I was actually kicked out of her chat. Amazing? Indeed.
Then, a mere 2 nights later, I made another sortie into the hostile territory of her channel and lo, she had changed her show description and now had an entirely new grammatical error on display. Once again, I pointed out her error and repeated my commiseration that grammar was difficult for one who was a denizen of New York City. Her anger was plain to see, as her current favorite butt-boy (Ian123456789) was in chat and “lol’d” at her mistake. Once again, I found myself looking at the familiar “You have been kicked from this channel” message.
First, let’s set the table.
Cocoa and I are in the midst of a discussion about this notice. Cocoa is somewhat perplexed about what this even means and seeks to understand this notice in light of the recent change to the ToS. I am puzzled as to what “severe abuse of the system” is supposed to mean.
It is fairly indisputable that Cram only listens to a fairly small number of people on Ivlog, so it seems obvious that one or more of these people is getting trolled hard from IPs that Cram is unable to associate with a user account (welcome to the internets, Cram). So just how hard are these Friends of Cram (FoC) getting trolled? I have no idea. I have not seen any of this for myself. The people that I observe getting trolled the most are the socially inept (Jessica, Faroe, etc) who invite and encourage the trolls with their emotional and flamboyant reactions. I have no doubt they fill Cram’s inbox with complaint piled atop complaint, but that is just part of their nature.
Cram, your website is theoretically for adults. Your ToS states “This site is designated for the use of any person, 18 years of age or older.” Obviously, reaching the age of 18 (or 21, or 35, or 80) does not confer maturity, wisdom or emotional stability on anyone, and those limp-dicked motherfuckers are the ones that are troll magnets. I watched in person as JessicaLovesDrama called for a moderator to ban “mean guests” when she was unable to deal with the fallout of a run-in she had on Crossdresser Jack’s show. As a broadcaster, she had the tools to manage her show, but she worked herself into such a state that all she could do was weep and moan piteously on camera because people were being mean to her.
So I have to ask myself the following: is this issue being driven by a handful of marginal social retards filling up Cram’s inbox, or is there something going on amidst the FoCs that I am just completely unaware of? I will seek to enhance my understanding of what is driving this interesting Vaughn-like policy and report back when I have something that seems to make a modicum of sense.
Killing guest chat strikes me as terrifically counter-productive (as amply demonstrated elsewhere) to a social broadcasting site. I don’t see this current course of action ending well for site management or site users.
Yetta is back to screaming about Lizzy around the clock. Lizzy did this, Lizzy did that, Lizzy made up user names, Lizzy made a blog post, Lizzy made a twitter account, Lizzy wrote me a “lettah”, Lizzy catfished me, Lizzy called me a name, Lizzy parked in a tow-away zone, Lizzy kidnapped the Lindbergh baby, Lizzy was late returning a book to the library, Lizzy was responsible for the stock market crash… the list is endless.
Yetta is also yelling about other ‘casters who are “putting her on the spot” by interrogating her (Yetta’s phrase) regarding the Great New Year’s Non-invitation of 2019 that had Yetta stuck in a 72 hour loop complaining about not being invited to an Ivlog show (I really do wish I was making this up). So far, she has mentioned BPink, Donny Donowitz, and “Jackie” Lee by name as broadcasters who put her on the spot when she entered their channels by asking her about her continuing Lizzy rants. Yetta states to her audience of Ian and guests that these above named broadcasters are nefarious ne’er do wells who seek to make her feel guilty for “crimes” that others have perpetrated upon her. “I’m innocent, I AM THE VICTIM”, Yetta cries to her small and mostly silenced audience.
Credit where it is due. When Donny told the old bat he had filed a ToS complaint against her (and whether he actually did or not is certainly open to speculation), it set her off like a dog with a roman candle shoved up its ass. Yetta is still running in circles, baying at the top of her considerable lungs about how innocent she is and how very guilty Donny is.
At some point, Yetta will get her medication adjusted again and she will enter a period of quiescence, but in the meantime Yetta is fully cranked up and venting her spleen to anyone that is willing to park in her channel for 30 seconds. Enjoy, people.
If you have an IQ higher than a houseplant and you have been paying any attention at all lately, you are no doubt aware that Ivlog recently made a change to their ToS, primarily in regards to the use of 3rd party applications such as Skype, Discord, etc during live broadcasts.
In a nutshell, if someone is bannzored from Ivlog, you may not have them in your show by means of one of these 3rd party applications.
So what does the simpleton cross-dresser do this morning? Jack has damisc on a skype call and within seconds of damisc starting to speak…
This happened before damisc could get even one sentence out of that sewer he calls a mouth. Was the Ivlog moderator sitting in the Ivlog Command Center, watching, waiting for Jack to fuck up? I have no doubts on that score. Of course he was. Jack’s propensity for fucking up is exceeded only by the amount of pancake makeup slathered on his face.
Will Jack return? Will Jack learn anything from this? Will Jack buy larger rubber titties? Only time will tell.
Way back a long time ago, in the dim prehistoric days of social broadcasting, I met a unique guy with the name of Roller. It was on Yahoo Live and for those of you who were on Yahoo Live… it was the Wild Wild West of the broadcasting world for a few glorious and insane months. Roller fit right in. He had a great sense of self-deprecating humor and was an early adopter of the webcam overlay packages that were available at the time. I was doing a show one night and he popped up on a guest cam, tinted RED as a fire engine, with animated flames coming up from the bottom of the frame and enormous horns superimposed on his forehead. He gleefully typed in chat “I’M IN HELL!, get it?”. He was never one to let his infirmity slow him down or get him down.
Roller loved what is euphemistically called “classic rock and roll” and loved to share his music with one and all. He fell into doing shows pretty quickly and made a lot of friends with equal speed. I never met a single person who didn’t like him once they got to know him, which leads me into a True Roller Story. He was doing a show one afternoon, and I sort of dragged a new-to-the-site female into his cast. She had never seen Roller before, and shortly after we entered his channel, she PM’d me and said “This guy looks weird.” I replied “He’s a quad, think nothing of it.” She replied “A quad? What’s a quad?” I realized I had not given her a detailed enough explanation, so I told her that “quad” was short for quadriplegic and explained briefly what had happened to him. To make a long story short, that woman never missed another of his ‘casts after that day. Once she spoke to him that first time, he worked that magical southern charm of his all over her and he had another friend for life.
When Yahoo Live bit the dust we all migrated to the various available webcasting sites and eventually washed up on the shores of BlogTV. There was an afternoon show on BlogTV hosted by a guy whose ID was justROBme2 (a nice guy, technologically challenged to be sure, but a nice guy) that was heavily attended. When Rob would sign off there would always be much discussion about who was going to go live next. Eventually, Roller took over the post-Rob time slot and an internet star was born. Roller’s sure-fire mix of mainstream rock and his easy manners coupled with a fairly friendly chat room began to attract more and more viewers.
As time went on, Roller began to trim his hours a bit and cut back on the number of shows. I assume there were probably some health issues driving this, but Roller was always 100% cheerful and “on” when he went live. No show was complete without cries of “Fix your shit!” and “UNMUTE, noob!” from the audience, tales of dropped sticks (if you were there, you know what I’m talking about), and a detailed description of what was for supper.
Sadly, Roller has passed away, and while his shows had become downright infrequent, I feel comfortable in saying that no one who saw him is ever going to forget him. He was a natural at entertaining his friends and it was a pleasure to kick back for a couple or three hours and just let Roller take over the controls. He was widely loved, respected and admired; he will be missed.
YellerTellerbeller is back and looking absolutely terrible. Cocoa Black actually called me and asked me to look in on the old woman. Cocoa was concerned that Yetta was puffy and misshapen and was perhaps nearing her end. While I did not disagree that Yetta is indeed looking more saggy as of late, I suspect she still has a few more miles left before her farting days are over.
Yetta was having a grand old time spewing her hatred toward the latest people that she has interacted with. Singled out for special attention: the human appearing scarecrow named McGuyver (loudly and repeatedly denounced for trying to “hijack” Yetta’s show), Boston Chickie (apparently for the crime of having McGuyver in her channel) and Capt. CRAPtastic (the latest person she is quite certain is an author on this blog). Yetta pronounced all of them to be pedestrian and unworthy of her attention… all while paying them attention. Consistency is not exactly Yetta’s salient characteristic.
Of note, there is a new Yettacentric channel on Ivlog. I do hereby swear and affirm I have exactly nothing to do with that channel, but I can also state that it is doing the Lord’s work and I wish them every success, right up until the time some asshat reports it to the comically inept management of Ivlog and they remove it.
Okay, this should be simple, and I think for most of you, it is. There are Certain Individuals that haunt social media sites and they do nothing but lie and incite. I suspect that you, dear reader, could easily tick off a short list of them without putting forth any effort. These Certain Individuals are harmless to those of us that know them for who and what they are, but the weak-minded (that’s harsh, but it’s fair) let these people get under their skins and all too often they take what is said to or about them to heart.
The latest episode of this drama du jour happened this morning in the Official Ivlog Transvestite channel. The laughably hideous “JackieLee” was babbling on in his usual mindless manner when a slap fight broke out between Michelle Stacy (a well known Certain Individual) and JessicaLuvsJesus (the weak-minded). The mentally ill LikLik (yet another Certain Individual) sensed a disturbance within the asylum and immediately rushed to join the affray, adding his own peculiar brand of inflammatory disinformation wherever he felt it would do the most harm. It’s what he does. In the meantime, JackieLee did what he does best: absolutely nothing.
As far as a fight, the outcome was never in doubt. Michelle Stacy and LikLik are devoid of anything we might term a conscience, and JessicaLuvsJesus is basically unarmed in any battle of wits. The Certain Individuals fired off their usual spread of lies, the weak-minded took it very seriously, burst into tears and rage quit. JessicaLuvsJesus retreated to one of her alt accounts, wept copiously and finally summoned an Ivlog site moderator to nail “mean” guests with IP bans.
Various denizens of Ivlog popped in and out of JessicaLuvsJesus’ channel to commiserate or remonstrate as their natures dictated. Among these folks was Boston Chickie (someone I have “known” since she first appeared in the dim and misty past of social broadcasting) who wisely observed that with the passage of a few days this would all blow over. It did sadden me to see that Michelle Stacy was later sighted in Boston Chickie’s channel as her super-op. Boston, dear lady, if you lay down with dogs you will surely get up with fleas.
This all leads into a discussion on the subject of “transitive friendships” and the ultimately destructive nature of relationships to people who give credence to that philosophy. The friend of your friend DOES NOT HAVE TO BE my friend. It is entirely possible and eminently legitimate that you may have a friend that I despise and you and I can remain friends. If you would be so kind, please ask yourself some simple questions: when you were growing up, how many of your friends were disapproved of by your parents? Did you despise your parents because they disliked one of your friends? Do you feel your parents were wrong, given the time that has since elapsed? Do you now comprehend their point of view?
I worry for Boston Chickie and her seeming friendship with someone that I know is a viper, but I am not going to cease contact with BC over the issue. I suspect BC will, in her own good time come to see what, in my opinion, is self-evident, but as a wise man once said, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him think. Er…., drink.
I meant to post this yesterday and I got sidetracked by a stubborn PCIe SATA controller card that wished to have its way with me. This afternoon, after a fearsome struggle in which much blood was shed, I prevailed.
ONE YEAR AGO, Mommy Vaughn announced that she was dying.
It grieves me to report that I have nothing further to report. I shall endeavor to maintain a sense of optimism and hope for the worst. For her.
Cocoa has told me to get off my dead posterior and do something I mentioned in passing once upon a time: Cookie Bingo.
The rules are simple and the card below is but an example. Write down 24 of her annoying words or phrases (which should not be too difficult, because that woman is the living embodiment of annoying) and play Cookie Bingo with your friends. Fun for anyone who has ever been on JTV, blogTV, YawnLive or Ivlog.
Note: Her OCD forces her to say some of her words/phrases over and over. Sorry, you only get to use it once, because she IS crazy and you aren’t.
Cookie has decided that she has discovered the secret identity of this writer. She has come to the inescapable and ineluctable conclusion that I am…
Tripcode. After announcing this, she then loudly proclaimed (in triplicate, as is her wont) that I would deny that I am Tripcode. Toots, I could give exactly zero flying fucks at a rolling doughnut who you think I am. If you need to think I am Tripcode, the Wizard of Oz, the Grand Wazoo or Father Duffy, then that is who I am.
With the help of her current sidekick, Ian985 (more about Ian shortly), they then deduced that Cocoa was someone named Jinx. After a bit more brainstorming, they came to the positive conclusion that HandsomeMork and Cocoa Black are both Tripcode. By now, you must be thinking the same thing that I am… Tripcode is a VERY busy boy.
As H.L. Mencken said, “For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.”
Ian985 is a rather interesting character. He agrees with every single bit of nonsense that drops out of Cookie’s ever flapping pie hole. He agrees just a little too much, too eagerly, too avidly. I’m gonna go ahead right now, in writing, and call him out as a catfish. No one agrees with anyone as much as Ian agrees with Cookie, and when something is too good to be true, it’s just too damn good to be true. Shitlips, you are fixin’ to get burned once again and I for one am going to revel in every minute of it.
Deeply into her senescence, Yetta’s show has become a festival celebrating her own peculiar brand of egocentrism. I have encountered some self-centered assholes in my sixty plus years on this planet the kids call “erf”, but this old bat is walking off with the cake. With an ego that large, it is simply impossible for a knave such as myself to resist the impulse to stick the occasional pin in the enormous balloon of her self-esteem. Sometimes it rattles her cage just a bit, as witnessed by the screen capture below:
She did in fact notice her error, as a clear expression of irritation passed across her face, but in true Lipshitzian fashion, she plowed on for the next 25 minutes telling me just how very much I sucked. Then it was back to the “All Lizzy, All The Time” diatribe she has been locked into since the beginning of 2019. I must bow to Lizzy, as she is UNDER the skin of Kookie in a truly impressive fashion. Troll Level: Master.