Not Sharing but Swearing.

 I think I'm going to stop sharing these blogs. I mean I'm only putting them on Facebook and Twitter anyway, so its not like anybody is seeing them in the endless traffic. Oh a man has an opinion that closely resembles all the other knock-kneed libtard cuck opinions I've read today - I'll save that for later. 

This blog is, basically, a diary. A diary of strange times, though all times are strange if you look at them correctly. Its also a record of my existence. Google me. The top John Patrick Higgins isn't even me, its a dead American naval officer. I've been writing reviews for five years. I'm a playwright and a short story writer. I have two podcasts, one of which has my full name on it. I've been on TV and radio many times. I once portrayed a businessman in a motivational video for the food services industry. Look upon my works ye mighty and despair. And I can't topple Popeye the Sailorman (deceased). 

I'm in an abusive relationship with a load of social media algorithms and I'm looking for love in all the wrong places. People don't want to read. They're busy. Reading's so last century. When they do read they want to read someone they've heard of because we're all conditioned to accept only those pre-selected opinions that chime with our own thinking. The the echo-chamber shall not be breached. Though when you are the sort of big, softy, why-can't-we-all-just-get-along doofus that I am it is difficult to maintain that unblemished state of grace. 

The force of these people: the scoffers, the debunkers, the science-is-nonsense conspiracy theorists, they are demonic in their energy. My lot look like elitist snobs because we sneer at their spelling and grammar and the fact that what they say is such palpable horseshit, but we shouldn't. We should be in awe. We should live in fear. Like a weed poking through tarmac their will to power is frightening. They are everywhere, indefatigable, as unsleeping as rust. They are intellectual Gremlins and like Trump, their figurehead,  it doesn't matter what they say it is that they are always talking. They never stop. They tongue lash you into submission. Oh look - that apostrophe is unecessar...too late. It doesn't matter. Even knowing that makes you an "expert" a "dinosaur" an airy fairy common-sensephobe. You're a yesterperson. Get back into your walk in bath, go for a long drive in your E-foldi. 

So yeah. I'll carry on writing this. For me. So I can remember what I was like and what I thought, just in case in the future I get black-bagged for wearing glasses. The only thing that might save me is that I can't place a semi-colon to save my life.