I'm going away.

I'm going to San Francisco tomorrow. I'll be gone for about a week, hopefully. I hate flying. Flying is for phantoms and people who are secure in humanity and technology. I am neither of these things. If I live, I will update you on my travels. Don't be too confident. I'm not.

P.S. If I die, please label me a prophet and publish everything I've written as gold. But, pile all the money on my makeshift grave and leave it there. Do not attempt to use it. I will make your walls drip blood, and you will never have to use your air conditioning again. But don't consider that to be a good thing.


Hopefully this won't be me.

The Infinite Wisdom of Do-Gooders.

A few weeks ago, I got a call from my old roommate. I was watching a movie and eating at the time, and my phone was across the room, sitting on my dresser for some odd reason, and so I didn't answer it. Minutes later, I checked the new voicemail that popped up on the screen, and heard this: "Jon- it's Steve. The cops were just here at the house, looking for you, actually- I guess someone called them about your blog, so I just wanted to let you know. You might wanna take it down, or whatever. I don't know- give me a call."

Called them about my fucking blog?! What?! Why?!, I wondered. Oh, shit! The Bert blog! In the course of a few seconds, a number of things flashed across my memory that led me to believe that this definitely was the blog in question: pissed off emails from Steve's girlfriend about disrespecting him by "beating" his dogs, a cowardly anonymous comment left on said blog chastising me for my reactionary actions towards the dogs, and the realization of just how much I fictionalized my cruelty towards the dogs in the blog based on the incredible amount of anger and sadness bearing down on me as I wrote the farewell letter.

Fuck.

I went immediately to the miraculously online computer and took the blog down. Feeling somewhat relieved and even more paranoid, I cautiously peered out the front door to check for any police that might be slowly approaching my house, creeping, ever-so-silently, lest they clue me in to their presence. No one. I sat down on the porch to smoke a cigarette. Then I began to think: Why did I take that down? You can't get arrested for a blog! That's total bullshit! And who in the FUCK called the cops on me??! What the hell is wrong with people? I decided to call Steve, who assured me that it was neither he nor his girlfriend that ratted me out to the fuzz. Furthermore, he informed me that the cops had arrived at the house with dog requisition equipment (a term I just made up- sounds more official), required Steve to step outside while they checked on the condition of the dogs, and finally, after sorting through all the various bits of information that are required upon a visit from the boys in blue, asked him if he wanted to press charges against me, which he refused. Of course, there would have been no evidence to do so anyhow, but nonetheless, it saved us both a lot of time and trouble, not to mention any great amount of ill-will that would have surely come of that.

We then began ruminating on just who might have called the cops on me. Steve told me that the cops said that they had just gotten the call that very day, which means, if true, that the rat was over two months late in reporting my heinous written crime. We then speculated that perhaps someone had reported the abuse to the SPCA, who then filed a complaint with the police department, who in turn, in the true bureaucratic fashion of governmental agencies, filed it away under "Things to Do Right After You've Ticketed Everyone in The Area Who Has Parked the Wrong Way on the Street," and so now showed up at the offender's address.

Er, old address. Here's the rub of it all, the mystery, the unknown, the goddamned X-factor. Whoever it was that did their civic duty by phoning in an awful crime, perpetrated by a cold-blooded, merciless would-be serial killer, or worse-terrorist!- didn't know me all that well. Perhaps they were worried about getting murdered. Who knows? They did, however, know me well enough to know where I used to live. The cops surely didn't get that information from pulling me up in their system. My license still says I live in Arlington (I keep this license so I have more time to get away with all the horrible crimes I commit. It's boring, but it's my life..), and none of the bills at the house were under my name. The only things that bore that address with my name were my credit card bills, and that's it. Sure, with enough sleuthing, I'm sure the cops could've found that information out, but I can assure you that the investigation never got that deep, especially when the the complaint comes from an individual's speculation based on what they read on A B L O G.

And so, on an inquisitive note, Steve and I hung up the phone, no closer to an answer, but at least my paranoia was greatly allayed. I cringed to myself, went "Psh," and immediately returned to the computer and reposted the blog, and nothing has come of it, nor will anything.

That's just some expository information for you, the reader, to ingest. This post is actually meant for the person who knows all this stuff already. Yes, you- yeah, the windbag, candy-ass piece of shit that called the cops on me for no fucking reason. The anonymous ship in the night, the miserable, self-loathsome puke that punches you in the back of the head after you think the fight's over. You know who you are- and guess what? So do I! You don't know me, and you never will, so why don't you just keep your grubby, lonely paws out of other people's business? Now, if you want to make any of this your business, I offer an open invitation, yet again, to you faceless heroes, to feel free to contact and talk to me personally. You know how to do it. Shit, it wasn't hard for you to find my address, huh, so it shouldn't be too hard to track down my phone number, or my email address, or even my Myspace page, right? I'll do ya one better: jgpool@gmail.com. No excuses now!

If you can unveil yourself, you stalwart of truth and goodness, I shall be happy to make your acquaintance and explain a number of things to you from my own mouth that might possibly shed some light on your dim wits. But I know you, and so does everyone else. You'll stay in your little gutter and just stab at people's ankles with a rusty pocketknife as they walk by right before rushing back into the murky shadows, carefully nursing your adrenaline boner.

Get your facts straight before you play the saint, douchebag. Had you read my other blogs, you could've saved yourself an incriminating, recorded, part-of-the-public-record-and-so-therefore-available-through-the-Freedom-of-Information-Act 911 phone call. You see, in an earlier blog that I wrote, I was shot in the head with a .12 guage shotgun, and as I attempted to drive away from the scene of the crime, my vision blurred and finally disappeared altogether. Because I DIED. Fucking moron.

The true Spirit of Truth.

I may be getting too caught up with publishing videos instead of actual writing on this blog, but there is no way I could not put this up. This might be the best thing I've ever seen, and I'm sure you'll agree. Many of you may have already seen the purest gold of "Spirit of Truth," seeing as it is a nearly ten year old piece of footage, but I don't care. It's too amazing. "Anybody resistin' can goddamn my ass kissin'."

My electronic life in a nutshell. A really depressing nutshell.

People search for things on the internet. People find things. Sometimes people find this blog. Here's a quick cross-section of the people that have found my blog based on their internet searches. I think it speaks for itself.

Num Perc. Search Term
1 14.29% the band called touche
1 14.29% blogger account purell, oklahoma
1 14.29% hair touche up
1 14.29% queer internet
1 14.29% cat licking deodorant
1 14.29% life of sparrows
1 14.29% stryper shirts
_______________

7 100.00%

It's sad how thin the veil is, really. So easily torn away. Piece of shit veil.

Bird With a Broken Wing: The Musical.

This video was shot and edited by our good friend Rob while he was on leave from the military a few weeks ago. Definitely the first (and last, probably) Brickfight music video ever. There is but one error in this video. First one to get it wins a prize: An in-depth interview of YOU by yours truly, to be published on this very blog. Proceed with caution. I have been known to be quite biased. People say I'm scathing, too. Remember that before you take the plunge. Meanwhile, enjoy this video.


Get this video and more at MySpace.com

The reason.

For those not in the know, I have broken my vow of silence for the month of April to inform the uninformed, after having received numerous emails and thinly veiled threats concerning my non-blogging over the past few weeks, to educate those not as far out on the fringes of liberal media and activism as I certainly am. Below is a repost of an article published in late March on the FAIR website. Although it would have been a good idea to post this article before the first of April, rather than waiting until nearly two weeks before it ends, I am not in possession of that much foresight, and I guess I just naturally assumed that like-minded writers would have been privvy to the same information that I am. Oh well. I can only hope that next year's movement will be more widespread and recognized by whatever community it is that calls itself the blogosphere.


Month of April Decreed to be "No Blogging" Month.
Douglas Pisara

March 23, 2006.

In lieu of recent revelations concerning published earnings reports from some of the country's largest blogging websites, as published in The Wall Street Journal on January 4, 2006, many advocates of internet self publishing, namely the blog watchdog group WRITER (Winning Recompense in The Electronic Renaissance) have opted out of publishing any work online during the month of April, claiming that large blogging websites, such as Blogger and TypePad, are systematically cheating online writers out of literally millions of dollars in compensation for their work, while simultaneously strong-arming smaller, community or fan-based blogging websites out of existence altogether.

"It is time for bloggers worldwide to stand up for themselves and their communities by recognizing their net worth in the online marketplace," Steffan Borgowski, international spokesperson for WRITER, said. "What most people don't realize is that for every 10 cents they receive for their Adsense hits, it is likely that the website that hosts their blog receives double that amount, as most of these larger sites have very lucrative deals worked out with advertisers."

Borgowski went on to note that while most blogging sites are free to users, the amount of income generated by the sheer traffic that is directed to the site by the users themselves is completely disproportionate to the services that the site provides to its members.

"Blogger reported quarterly earnings of close to 2 billion dollars last year. The average income of a blogger with Adsense on their site is $25 annually, not to mention the over 40% of bloggers who choose to keep their sites ad free. Free memberships and fancy template options are fine, but is that really fair compensation to the people who actually do most of the business for the site? We don't believe it is," said Borgowski.

WRITER is currently petitioning the major blogging websites to provide compensation to its users that is proportionate to the site's profit margins and its users output.

"For instance, if a blogger provides .001% of the traffic to a certain site, then that person should receive, at the very least, .0005% of the company's profits. We believe that this is a fair and ideal situation for all parties concerned. The site itself is still generating a more than lucrative profit, and the writers themselves are being compensated in such a way that is consistent with current market trends for writers of the printed page," Borgowski said.

WRITER is also forming a lobbying group that hopes to go to Washington later this year to present to the House a bill that would ensure fair compensation for online self publishers.

But for now, WRITER is simply hoping that the blogging community will latch onto April as "No Blogging Month," so as to send a clear message to the purveyors of the "seemingly helpful and unifying blogging websites."

"By drastically affecting the income of these conglomerate sites, if only for just one month, we in the blogosphere can achieve what it is that any writer, in any medium, strives for: not a hyper or permalink from another blogger's site, but fair compensation for our work."

____________________________

I hope this clears up any confusion as to why I haven't been posting lately. If you didn't know about this, chances are that many of your friends don't either. I strongly encourage all of you to repost this article, either on your blog or through your email, to help get the word out. I'll see you again May 1.