Probably all you’ve seen is my woes at Facebook. (Have you looked at The Robert Laird Network, where I’m taking up slack from my limitations at FB?)
I keep forgetting. Have you ever seen my Substack site? I found it technologically limiting, and I didn’t like the bait and switch incentive. Write enough to hook, then make them pay. Distorts the writing process, stringing out the Intro interminably like a Brit miniseries. So I gave it up. I’ve had some back and forths since with other stackers, but they’re not uniformly good company.
Came up with this a couple years ago as a way to do a YT podcast for cheap. A loop of me “thinking” while the audio contains the topical content. Realized it looked like what it was, me posing as if I were thinking when all I was doing was trying to look thoughtful.
Kind of lame, eh?
I sort of like it anyway. Some kind of a statement on all these podcasters retired from the nets and still wanting to be famous. Case in point, S. E. Cupp.
Her pose routine seem familiar?
My own abortive podcast pilot looked different. More modest in presentation style I’d like to think.
There’s a longer, slightly more serious pilot attempt, but
it’s been up at YT without exciting much (any) attention.
My one-woman focus group reacted unenthusiastically. “Huh,” she said. “I don’t get it.” Why I didn’t pursue it further. That and the money and disk space podbusters, of course.
I guess things are more productive than it feels at the moment. It feels like I’m being slowly shredded in the wind, like a scarecrow in rags as the storm gathers force. My wife keeps telling me the online weather service she uses is broadcasting a Tornado Watch for our area. Mine doesn’t. Hers is one of the climate change junkies who publish the temperatures in Fahrenheit and ‘Feels Like” degrees. “95 and feels like 142…”
Having lived for seven years in tornado country, I tell her not to worry. When there’s a Tornado Watch out there the sky turns a funny shade of pale pale green and it feels like all the air is just sitting on you, waiting for the signal. A tornado in South Jersey might be technically possible, but it would look like a dust devil shivering the pansies in the garden.
She forgets what I said and tells me again the next day that there’s a Tornado Watch for our area. Maybe I should take it personally this time. Lately, the Stones have been turning up unexpectedly on several occasions, odd given my having put them out of mind a couple years back. Somehow, they just popped up again in response to my search for covers of an oldie I hunted down when I thought I heard the melody plagiarized by a recent country song that was playing on my sleeptime ROKU music. Remembered a couple scraps of the original lyrics, found “Drift Away” by Dobie Gray, itself a cover. I looked for others. Lo and behold, the first one listed was a bootleg copy of an unreleased Stones version:
Back to my windblown scarecrow imagery…
Pretty sure the country singer swiped the tune and a good bit of the arrangement. What’s the world coming to?
I have an Instapunk Returns post I’m procrastinating on. Maybe I should get back to work. It’s 5:55 am… I am still trying to hold things together. Though I don’t think those pills are working…
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