Archive for August 25th, 2013


My Blog Scare

on August 25, 2013 in Misc 8 Comments »

So has this ever happened to you?

Yesterday (Saturday) my blog was gone.  I mean it was off the Internet.  I couldn’t bring up my login-dashboard page or Becoming Layla through Google – nothing!  All I got was a blank white screen with the big word FORBIDDEN and a warning about a server.

So I emailed my friend and tech buddy Alonzo and he managed to fix my blog but what he had to tell me was kinda scary.  Becoming Layla, he said, had been “surgically fucked with.”  Not hacked into because hackers just try to do damage and can be clumsy.  Instead, key components in my blog had been “surgically” altered so that my blog could be shut down and FORBIDDEN.

Why did I get this techie attack?  Well, Alonzo pointed out that my last week’s posting had “about twenty key words” in it that make intelligence snoopers pay attention.  Personally, I find it hard to believe that someone like those assholes at the NSA would bother with something as trivial and irrelevant as my obscure blog, especially since my post was about the WEATHER!  On the other hand, I remember that when I wrote a eulogy for my friend’s mother who had been in slave labor under the Nazis, I got pretty much no spam for days.  Seems the word “Nazi” and related expressions serve as flashing warning signs for spammers.

So maybe now is not the time to mention that in The Compass Master I wrote about (among other things) the Council for National Policy, that shadowy, hush-hush group that’s been called the Who’s Who of the extreme right wing.  YOU HEAR THAT ONE, NSA?

So seriously, my fellow writers, have you ever had your blog messed with by a stranger?

On a completely different note, I’d like to end this post with an encouraging anecdote I read in June’s Vanity Fair about that master writer for the big and little screen, J.J. Abrams.

It seems that when he was growing up Abrams thought of himself as “not a very successful kid” because he was chubby, unathletic, and the object of concern by his teachers.  They suspected he was an oddball and a peculiar voyeur because he loved to watch his fellow pupils with one eye covered as if seeing them through a viewfinder.  What I especially like about this story is that it makes me feel like I wasn’t the only little nutcase on the playground.

And for all you other writers with peculiar habits: Embrace your eccentricities because maybe they’re a sign of future greatness!

Have a wonderful week.