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Tuesday, September 17, 2019

Angry White People - 8 New Rules

I am fairly critical of Facebook.  I still have an account, despite my sincere effort to delete that account several years ago (by the way, they may say they will delete your account at your request - but they lie.)  But sometimes I find really worthwhile things on this site.  This piece is one of those worthwhile things!  

KC Compton

Aug 25 · 7 min read

A few days ago I had a great margarita at my favorite Mexican restaurant, where I visited with the wait staff , all members of the family that owns the restaurant. La abuela doesn’t speak English, so explaining to her that no, really, that was all of the queso fundido I was going to eat and no, there was no problem, got a little complex. But with sufficient broken Spanish on my part and her grandson’s help, we got it sorted out — and enjoyed a moment.
A couple of days after that, I met a young woman from Ukraine whose English wasn’t great, but we managed to have an interesting conversation anyway. She told me she wants to start a YouTube channel for immigrants to share their getting-started stories. I told her it was brilliant — and I think it is.
Last week, I had a couple of medical tests; two of the technicians were Latinx, one was Chinese and the other looked as though he might have had a Viking up the family tree. My doctor is Japanese. My physical therapist is from India.
Yesterday in Target, a young mother wearing a hijab was checking out in front of me and taking longer than her adorable toddler daughter thought was necessary. The little girl started fussing and Mom was getting frustrated, so I played peekaboo with her until Mom had completed her transaction. As she was leaving, she mouthed “Thank you!” over her baby’s head.
Today, I went for a mani-pedi and the young technicians were laughing and talking in Vietnamese as they tag-teamed my fingers and toes. The one who spoke the clearest English asked me how long it had been since my last pedicure. I shrugged, rolled my eyes and she wagged her finger at me, scolding, “You come sooner next time…” and we laughed.
In the past couple of months, I have eaten food from at least six nationalities (go, Seattle!) and have had personal interactions with black people, white people, Latinx people, transgender people, Asian people, gay people, Jewish people, Hindu people, Christian people, Muslim people, unaffiliated reprobates like myself, male people, female people and people who have chosen not to pick sides. And probably a number of other categories I’ve forgotten by now because I don’t care. This is just how my life rolls in a diverse city, among a diverse community, with a heart that is richer for all of them.
I recently read a Washington Post article about the shortage of labor in Maine — where the population has now grown sufficiently old that the World Bank terms it “super-aged” — and the crisis they’re dealing with because there are not enough young workers to care for all those old people.
This imbalance is a harbinger of things to come for all U.S. states, the article said, but particularly for those who have fewer immigrants.
Derp.
People from other countries have long filled the ranks of medical professionals and caregivers in this nation, but with harsher immigration policies and a public sentiment that makes the U.S. less inviting, the immigrant population will, predictably, dwindle. Not having sufficient professionals and workers to care for elderly people will be a social and economic catastrophe in a decade or less (it’s already happening in Maine and another dozen states). One of the recommendations for the future is to “reshape the workforce” and I’d bet my hat, ass and overcoat that will involve … you guessed it! … more immigrants.
I wonder how some of the horrible white people we are seeing on a daily basis these days insisting in the local Starbucks that the people a table away (who weren’t talking to them) SPEAK ENGLISH!!! or castigating the waiter in the MEXICAN restaurant where they were buying tacos (!!!) to GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM (“Unh … it’s my restaurant…”) are eventually going to deal with the fact that their lily white bum gets wiped by a foreigner or it doesn’t get wiped at all. That should be a day of reckoning, for sure.
I understand that some people are convinced — possibly by a 30-year diet of Fox and Rush — that they are the master race and every one not their particular shade of beige and of their particular pedigree should bow down and make way. If that’s the way they want to play it, OK, I guess. You can’t make people not be hateful. But there need to be some guidelines. These wannabe white separatists need to fully understand the dimensions of the narrow little world they’re condemning themselves to.
If I were named Queen for a Day, these are a few of the new rules I would hereby order for all those angry white people:
  1. If you don’t want immigrants to live in the U.S.A. and/or you think brown people of any type are your inferiors, you will be required to wear an indelible stamp across your forehead (not a tattoo, because we want you to have a change of heart) with a big, fat purple B for Bigot. If you are sporting this stamp, you cannot purchase anything brought to this country by an immigrant ever or made by a brown person. Food, clothing, jewelry, electronics … nada (or in English, for you, “nothing”).
  2. If you are wearing your required B-for-Bigot stamp and you become ill, you will not be able to access care by anyone brown or from another country, especially Muslim or shit-hole countries (is “shit-hole” hyphenated or one word? Whatever). You may die, but you’ll have the comfort of dying while being right about race.
  3. You have to give up any food that any immigrant group has ever introduced here. No Mexican food, no Chinese, no Thai hot, no sushi, no Indian buffet, no soul food — no nuthin’ but potatoes and whatever some Native American might be kind enough to cook up for you. They will retain the right to refuse. You cannot eat anything harvested by any immigrant ever. You will starve, but again, you’ll retain your righteousness on the way out.
  4. You will not be able to sell anything to anyone from an immigrant group or with skin darker than copy paper. If you’re a business owner or manufacturer or a tradesperson or … oh hell, anyone … you’ll notice the economic impact quickly because immigrants and brown people are, you know, drivers of our economy.
  5. You must relinquish all access to any music imported from any immigrant group or via brown people. This leaves … unh … gosh … hmmm … still thinking. Even bluegrass or old-time country are out because that came to us courtesy of that pesky Irish/Scot invasion and, even though these were my people and they borrowed heavily on the African traditions already taking root in the South, they were, you know, nasty immigrants. Certainly no blues, jazz, rock & roll, hip-hop, classical (all those Eye-talians, doncha know). Maybe you can listen to some nice Native American flute music, indigenous to this country, but again, you’ll have to rely on the kindness of the original residents of this continent and, frankly, some of them are weary of your bullshit.
  6. You will never be able to enjoy any electronic devices again — iPhones, tablets, laptops, PCs. According to the Census Bureau, despite making up only 16 percent of the resident population holding a bachelor’s degree or higher, immigrants represent 33 percent of engineers, 27 percent of mathematicians, statisticians, and computer scientist, and 24 percent of physical scientists. According to the Partnership for a New American Economy, in 2011, foreign-born inventors contributed to more than 75 percent of patents issued to the top 10 patent-producing universities. Immigrants and brown people have been all up in the development of all of the electronic stuff for a long time, so … sorry. It’s not easy being racist. Buck up.
  7. Alas, no sportsball. Given the preponderance of players of color in basketball, football, tennis and such, no B-for-Bigot can enjoy the sportsball games anymore, either in person or on TV. They’ll have NASCAR … hockey … lacrosse, so that’s something. Bottom line, you don’t get to enjoy the fruits of other people’s labor if you aren’t willing to grant them as much humanity and value as you grant yourself. Very simple, actually.
I could go on and on, but you get the drift. So you go ahead and sit over there in your little whitey-tighty corner, wrapped in gauze and buffered from any encounter with anyone not on your list of approved races, ethnic groups and/or gender expressions. I haven’t seen this list, but I assume you’ve all gotten together and worked it out, right? Because you seem to have such a clear picture of who is and isn’t a human being entitled to the full rights and respect one gives to others, I figured you’ve put your heads together and gotten very clear about who’s in and who’s out. Oh… that reminds me of Rule № 8.
8. You have to spit in a vial and/or swab your cheek and get that DNA sorted out. I know I’m white because I did that and was quite disappointed that the results came back white-white-whitey-white — British Isles all the way, yo. I was raised being told that for sure we had a Native American ancestor (I feel you, Elizabeth Warren) and probably an African American one. So imagine my chagrin to discover I’m “pure.” You, on the other hand, may not know your pedigree and it’s essential that you do. If you’re going to be such a hate-weasel about racial purity, you will need to scientifically verify that you are actually pure. Otherwise we add the orange H for Hypocrisy stamp to your forehead. It’s gonna get crowded up there if you don’t lighten up.
Meanwhile, the rest of us are going to go about our daily lives, enjoying each other’s company, benefitting from mutual relationships, taking pleasure in varieties of flavor and music and accents and skin colors and ages and religions and hair styles and personalities different from our own.
Just being, you know, decent human beings who are grateful for each other’s presence in this delicious world we get to live in together.
K.C. Compton is a journalist living in Seattle. She has worked as a columnist, reporter and editor at newspapers throughout the Rocky Mountain region and is a former editor with Mother Earth News. Pronouns=she/her

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

What I remember - 9-11!

This is my 9-11 post from 2015!  I am repeating it again - as it is my only statement on this tragic day!  This is what we must remember. To remember only the sanitized patriotic images that float around the internet does a disservice to those who suffered and died!


This is what I remember!


9-11

Every anniversary of this terrible day the TV, the blog-sphere and social media is flooded with 9-11 remembrances.

I support remembrances.  We must remember.

What I don't support are the images that emotionalize, sanitize or minimize the truth of that attack.  Beautiful waving national flags, a tearful statute of liberty with the smoky towers behind her, the struggles of the heroes to save lives ... those images do not show the terror, the desperation and the horror experienced by the innocent lives trapped in those burning buildings.  To remember that day with vanilla patriotic images fades the stark truth.  It separates us carefully and gently from the actual ugly event.

I don't think we should do that.

This is the image
 we should hold in our minds.


Remember
 this man!

Remember
 that some people jumped to certain death
 rather than stay in the inferno of those buildings.

Remember
 that as our innocent citizens fell from the building
  they knew with certainty that these were their last seconds of life on earth ...
approximately 10 seconds ...
Remember
 that those on the ground below
 will never forget the terrible thudding sounds of bodies hitting pavement
one after another - over and over - about 200 times.

If this post makes you upset, uncomfortable, angry, or sad, then I have achieved my goal.

We must never forget the real images.
This is how we do honor to those who died in that attack.

Remember.

Post Script:
  • My last blog post on 9-11 was September 2012. The title was Jumpers.
  • From the reading I have done - it appears that the New York chief medical examiner's office does not consider these people "jumpers."  Jumping indicates a choice and would imply suicide.  These people did not have a choice probably because of the force of the explosion, the fire behind them and the lack of breathable air.  Because of these conditions the deaths were ruled homicide.  It is a small but merciful distinction.   They most certainly were murdered.

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

My Left Thumb!

Will I ever learn!  
Never, never knit to a Christmas deadline!

During the Stay-cation with my grand dogs I set a goal to finish the two kid sweaters I am trying to complete for Christmas.  With hours and hours of knitting time available, I felt this goal was do-able.  After all - my grand daughter's sweater just needs two short sleeves and 3 buttons.  My grand nephew's top down sweater was almost to the point where you split out for the sleeves.

And I have 10 whole days available!!  I can do this!!!

Sadly, my left thumb feels different.  For me lots of knitting does not create over-use problems in my hands.  I feel lucky ... especially when reading about the repetitive use injuries of other crafters.  But my grand nephew's project requires more left thumb effort than normal.  My thumb is a little cranky right now.

Photo Credit: Ravelry.Com
Designer's sample

The pattern is called Miracle Sweater by Nicole Montgomery.  I love the gender neutral look of the garment, the dense feel of the fabric created, the jacket-like style, and the unique stitch itself.  I also love that the proceeds of the purchased pattern are donated to a charity.

Up close Twisted Basket stitch pattern.
The first thing I noticed was that although the stitch was uncomplicated to create - for some darn reason "unknitting" the stitch (a function often needed to correct mistakes) was difficult to do.  I did several gauge swatches - to get gauge - but also to learn and practice unknitting the Twisted Basket Stitch so I could fix errors when they occurred.  I never reached a level of comfort in that unknitting effort for this stitch (actually not one single time.)

My progress to date.  Sleeves will need to be picked
up and knitting at some point.
Regardless, I was not deterred by that failure.  I started the sweater anyway, determined to avoid mistakes.  I, of course, made a mistake within the first 5 rows of the woven pattern and made the problem even worse trying to correct it.  So I ripped out those 5 rows and started again - learning from that mistake, convinced I would, at least, not repeat that particular error again.

And I didn't.  I made a different mistake!  You see, the stitches are stacked on top of each other in a very specific order.  Within 5 rows I made a stacking mistake - and one whole row along the back between the sleeve sections - was wrong.  And it clearly showed!  I couldn't unpack even a single stitch successfully and now I had a whole row of stitches that were wrong.  Damn.



So I made a creative decision to hide that row of errors under the generous collar by tacking the collar down so the wrong row can't be seen.  It was an option I considered before I made the error because the collar had a lot of "bounce" in it and probably wouldn't rest easily on the shoulders when worn without tacking.  Now that decision was finalized and it killed two birds with one stone!  Excellent!!

Second problem solved (without ripping out my progress.) I plowed on.

But there are limits.  At this point, if I cannot fix or hide an error that can only be corrected by ripping out, I will stop this project and choose another pattern ... I don't want to start completely over.  Finding this pattern took a lot of time at the beginning.  And I still like it.



When the third error rolled around (surprised? ... not me) I somehow miraculously managed to de-construct the stitch - and mostly get it right.  Right enough to be acceptable to the casual eye.  Not perfect, but acceptable.

Is that the end of the errors knitting this beautiful stitch?  No chance - the risk is still very very much there.  But if I can avoid the blinding frustration that grows with each error maybe I can avoid pitching this project deep into my trash can.  It wouldn't be the first time I pitched yarn, a partially complete project and the pattern into the garbage.

I secretly planned to maybe make this same sweater for my grand daughter at some point.  I really love the look of the stitch, and I love my grand daughter beyond all measure, BUT, no second sweater in this pattern for me - I also love my left thumb because without it - knitting would be very very hard.



Finally, there is one other small problem with this stitch.  Besides eating up a lot of yarn (which I was prepared for), it eats up lot of time.   A . LOT . OF . TIME.  In the picture above, the middle white markers show where I began 5 days ago.  Each day was about 4-5 hours of knitting.  That is 20 to 25 hours of knitting on a child's size 3T sweater.  While I was knitting the gauge swatch I could see it was time consuming - but I figured that as I got better with the stitch, I would get faster ... and I did.  But now I see how grossly off I was on time needed.  I still have 4 inches of body to do beyond the lower edge - and 2 full sleeves!

When I researched this pattern in Ravelry I saw comments like "beautiful," "worth the effort," "heirloom piece," and "appealing."  The other observations were "tedious," "time consuming," "patience needed."  All the statements are true.  My mistake?  I put more importance on the positive statements rather than the negative ones.

And my thumb?  It cramped a bit this morning.  A sign that I am pushing it too much?  You betcha!  So today I am blogging about knitting and not knitting - giving this vital appendage of my body needed for knitting - my left thumb - a day off!

Did you know that if you are a touch typist like me - 
the left thumb does absolutely nothing when typing? 
Ha!


Monday, August 26, 2019

Stay-cation with my grand dogs

Well, here I am on another Stay-cation with my grand dogs ... and extended 10 day stay-cation ... and I am on day 5 as I write.

On a previous stay-cation with my furry grand babies I waxed poetic on how restful and free these stays are.

He is a little large to sit on my lap, but his head fits just fine.

Liv is even larger.  She seldom sits by me, except for the first 24 hours when she is feeling a
bit lost by the absence of her owners.

I sleep at my son's house, I stay until about noon each day, when I drive to my home (about a 20 minutes away) to check in on my husband and to see he has dinner - then I return back to the dogs around 5 or 6 to spend the evening till noon the next day.  During these times, the only things scheduled are making these trips, making dinner and maybe a load of laundry.  The rest of the time is mine.  Knitting, binge watching TV series and dog love.

Except this time!

We have had a few problems medical problems - dog medical problems - this time.

Olivia, Liv for short, takes these absences of her family very personally.  She is a rescue.  She has abandonment issues I am sure.  She gets diarrhea - sometimes bloody diarrhea - when her owners are absent on trips.  This time it was 'normal' diarrhea, because they started her on medications before they left - and - also an additional medication should it be needed.  It was!  This problem is under control and she is adjusting.  She loves grandma (me).  But I am second best.  She can take second best when she has no choice.  On a scale of 1 to 5 with 5 being a scuzzy scum-ball of a human who hates dogs ... I will be raised from my normal position of 2.0 to 1.5 by the time her 'parents' return.  She is also the smart dog.  Very very smart.  Scary smart.  So I will never be #1 because she will never forget her resucers!  My son and daughter-in-law.  She will never be abandoned again.  If something should happen to my children - I would take her!  But she doesn't know that.  Poor baby.  I am happy with being 1.5 in her life for this 10 days.

Now, Rags!  The total opposite of Liv.  He has never been abandon.  In fact, my son paid thousands of dollars for his little butt from the breeder - his little English Bull Dog butt!  He is a lot of things:  very self confident, very energetic, very determined, very stubborn, VERY Bull Dog!  Except that as a full blooded English Bull Dog, he comes with all the typical inherited English Bull Dog medical issues.  I arrived 5 days ago to dog sit.  He was fine.  Three days ago he was licking his paws.

The start of a swelling in his left foot between the toes.

I noticed a swelling between his toes on one foot.  He has had these before, Interdigital Cysts.  I also noticed that one of the face wrinkles was red and weepy - and not a pretty color when spread open.  Two days ago I got him into his vet - a family vet who knows us well.  Three feet had cysts - one foot was infected and his wrinkle was infected.  We left with an antibiotic shot - good for 2 weeks - ointment for the toes and face and instructions.  Orders to return in a week.  Today things look little better, but one of his feet had some bleeding.  It has stopped now but ...

So here is what he looks like when I am gone - visiting my husband!  Pretty sad!

It is the only way to keep him from licking his toes in my absence.

And when I return - there is much joy!

They have a very large fenced in yard where they can safely
run and be crazy.

So this Stay-Vacation has included some nursing duties!  Good thing I have previous medical training - and I am not shy of diarrhea, blood, or icky green fluid build ups in a facial wrinkle.  And I am as determined and persistent as he is ... He sees me coming with tissues and he knows its wrinkle dab clean up time - and he goes in the other direction!!  Ha!  Grandma the enforcer is on the job!

Where do I rate on that 1 to 5 scale with him?  Remarkably I am sitting in #1 right now.  He is a smart bulldog - a fact he keeps hidden.  He is a forgiving bulldog - a fact he demonstrates all the time.  He is not worried about being abandoned.  He doesn't even know what "abandon" means.  He looks better today!  'Looks' are all I have to go on - because he acts very self confident, very energetic, very determined, very stubborn, VERY Bull Dog - even with his problems! Haha!

I know I will slip to #2 when his mom and dad return.  I am ok with that.

A Solid #2
That's me!


Friday, August 9, 2019

Picture a Prairie Dog

I seem to have fallen into another blogging slump.  
I guess my writing mojo just becomes dormant with some regularity.  
I have come to see this behavior as "learning" and "accepting" things about myself
 rather than a fault or lack of consistency!

Ha!  
How's that for talking my way out of something
 I characterized as a failure
in the past!

The slump is not over, but as I trek a round reading and commenting on the blogs I follow, I realize that connecting occasionally with my own blog is probably a good idea.

Like the Praire Dog that pokes his head out of his hole to take a look around ... this post is my head poking out.  Consider it a mini update and an indication that I still live!
  1. I am fine.  Not moody or depressed or over busy.  Just not blog inspired.
  2. I am still knitting like a banshie.  Christmas is coming and my gifts need to be completed.  Next year - if I am crazy enough to insist on knitting for Christmas - I am NOT going to use those fingering weight yarns no matter how alluring or temping the project appears - sport or worsted weight knits up so much faster.  Pictures of finished projects will take their place in their own blog posts at some point in the future.
  3. I made another trip up to Long Island with my sister to visit my mom's friend who is 94 years old.  She is still mentally pretty good and the trip was great fun.  She is plagued with some medical issues, but her brain still seems to be working just fine.  This trip left me pondering if I could choose only one life status in my very senior old age which would be better: mental alertness or physical well being.  A remarkably few people have both in their 90s so it stands to reason I won't be one of the "very few."  In fact, if personal family history is any kind of predictor, I won't have either one.  Could it be a kindness to one's self to not mentally know your are physically failing - rather than witnessing the total disintegration of your physical self - while your alert mental self watches?  Ugh! That is pretty depressing now that I think on it.  Better start pondering something else - like when does "Dancing With The Stars" return to TV.  I feel better all ready!  
  4. My grand daughter continues to grow in leaps and bounds.  A joy to all my senses!  These first two years in a child's life are just miraculous.  Looking back one year ago - the changes are amazing.  It may be time for another grand daughter post.
  5. My exercise mojo has its ups and downs as well.  My left knee (surgery 2017) gets cranky at times.  The heat here is brutal - thank you Climate Change.  And my very expensive (but old) walking shoes don't seem to be giving me the support I need anymore - resulting in sore feet if I am standing too long.  I can fix the shoes and will do so this month.  Just wish they didn't cost $150.   The weather should break positively starting next month - and if I ice my knee before and after walking, it is manageable.  I even re-joined the senior gym so I could use the treadmill (which I hate with a passion.). The facility is air conditioned, new and cheap by gym standards so my excuses are pretty few for not going.  So "struggle" is the right word to describe my efforts to stay reasonably fit.
  6. Eating wise - this is my absolutely favorite time of year.  Produce is flavorful and abundant.  Some meals I just eat vegetables.  So good.  And my very favorite is corn on the cob and tomatoes.  I think I could live on just those two things alone.  Throw in a few garbanzo or kidney beans and it would probably be pretty healthy as well.  And coffee.  Need my coffee.
So ... there you go!  All caught up on my boring life!  And just to clarify ... boring is A-OK for me.  I have lived a long enough to have had my share of "events."  I discovered that is better to figuratively live in the middle path of life rather than to soar high and sink low.

Back again when my mojo returns or a "prairie dog poke out" seems appropriate.

Friday, July 5, 2019

Time to look Up rather than Down

Why is it that looking "Down" is so much easier than looking "Up?" 

Is it a matter of habit or is it just human nature?  I find its too easy to look 'Down' into the daily frustrations of the current political scene, into the daily challenges of caregiving (for the third time in my life), into the realization that the plans I had for my own retirement are far from the life I live now.

It is crazy thinking to look Down when Up is so much better.  I am SO really blessed at this stage of life.  Time to make a list and post it somewhere (oh, yes ...  that's right - I have a blog!!) where I can page back and remind myself of one simple constant truth:

My blessings are someone else's strongest desire!

So here goes my Up - (in no particular order.)

  • I am 72!  Yes, I am grateful for that.  The other option doesn't appeal!
  • I am retired!  That condition is not a given for everyone.  I would enjoy being completely retired (retired from cooking, house cleaning, laundry - opps - look up, up up!  Looking up ... I don't work!)
  • I am comfortable in retirement.  No need to baby sit every penny or eat hotdogs instead of steak.  (Of course I prefer chicken and fish ... but you get the idea.)
  • I have a close immediate family that is a regular part of my life - not geographically or emotionally distant.
  • I wear the title of Grandmother proudly!!  An Alpine-level size Up.  
  • A husband.  A life partner - of 52 years duration.  While he adds to my stress at times (like all spouses can do) he is in relatively good health and still standing by my side.
  • I am healthy.  God knows ... No serious life threatening illnesses.  For my age and my "on-again off-again" focus on health - it is remarkable that the expiration date on something in this body hasn't come due.  (Excuse me while I find some wood to knock on.)
  • I have friends of long and short duration.  I must not be too much a drag on them - as they keep coming back!! 😀
  • Hobbies and interests abound.  I'd be lost without knitting and reading. Thank God for my hands and my eyes. 
  • My blog ... where I can dump thoughts that rattle in my brain and then pop out like a "Jack in the Box" explosion of angst (like my Democratic Debate Post - opps - looking down again - look up, look up!) 
  • Death and loss has been a rare visitor in my life.  
  • My husband's disability has prepared me to stand independently if I should be left widowed.  No excuses like 'my spouse handled that.'  (How's that for making lemonade out of lemons.)
  • Downsizing a life is in my rear view mirror!  My condo doesn't require a large expenditure of cash or life energy to maintain.
  • Finally, I have my brain ... a major plus, having watched my mom's brain slowly and painfully disintegrate into nothingness ... until it finally snuffed out her life.  Dementia runs in my family.  That is a genetic pre-disposition bullet I hope to miss.
Sure, I fret about not being able to travel, or participate as a couple in some activities we used to take joy in, or even go to the movies without feeling guilt about my husband left at home.  But would I change any of the above pluses for yearly vacations, broadway shows,  beach trips or hiking adventures?  No ... I really do have more than my fair way share of good things. 

AND I am ever so grateful that while looking 'Down,' in the past ... nothing on my 'Up' list disappeared yet.  I know that at my age, big changes can naturally be expected on that list ... but for today ... which is all any of us have ... it is all good!

Do you ever do that?  
Look Down too much rather than Up.  
Or am I the only one who has to make a list and post it somewhere
 so that my aging brain doesn't get stuck
 in Down mode rather than Up mode?

Wednesday, July 3, 2019

Anonymous - PUBLIC SERVICE MESSAGE

Hello blog readers.

I think I need to alert some visitors to my blog about my personal practice of handling "Anonymous" comments.

In the near future, I will stop accepting Anonymous comments. I think I have 2 "real flesh and bone" readers who comment that way.  But because of the bad behavior of a "few" - I will be ending that option in the next month or so.  In April, while I was participating in the A-to-Z Blog Challenge, the number of Anonymous comments jumped dramatically.  I guess that level of exposure to the internet opened me up to more JUNK comments.

Since the Challenge - I checked out the Anonymous comments regularly - deleting almost all.
Unfortunately the Anonymous comments have continued to grow in number and as a result, they eat up more time to sift through.  I don't regularly review them now.  I just delete them without opening them.  Sometimes when the onslaught of Anonymous comments are fewer - I will open them - but generally I don't - they go right to Trash.  So if you are an Anonymous commenter and your comments didn't show up - sorry - it is becoming just to hard to find the real visitors from the "fake" ones.

Anonymous commenters - please find a way to set up a google account that will allow you to comment with an identity.

If you do comment and do not use Google as your platform - and your comments typically get through to my blog - because you identify yourself in some manner - please share your method with others in your comments today.  I hate to block regular readers (and sometimes commenters) by taking away the Anonymous option, but it will come to that at some point.

Thanks.