Tag: starving artists

Facebook Follies

Hello Readers,

I would like to Apologize in ADVANCE for the Lack of New Content for the Next Day or Two. I know You all must be getting tired of these interim issues, and again I apologize.

This is a Small Independent Operation of a handful of Like Minded Writers and Artists as such WE ARE BROKE AS HELL. Thats why We have to work exponentially harder to promote Ourselves than some of these other Blog Bitch Asses that hire a Professional Public Relations Department for Hundreds of Dollars a Month. Then They sit back and act Arrogant like They had something to do with the Promotion of Their Product.

      

People have suggested going the GoFundMe route to raise funds, But I have a strong aversion to that idea (for now anyway). I’m Hard Headed as Hell and Stubborn as shit.

Its more than likely a fucking Pipe Dream, but I’d LOVE to keep FYB totally Independent because the more outside influences invade FYB the more the Product will/would suffer.

Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen and The Food Goes to Shit as “They” say. Only Time will Tell.

      

Anyway We are experiencing a All Hands On Deck to handle/combat the FACEBOOK PROMOTION PROBLEM. You see as Much as I despise FB its fucking FREE. And lets face even with The Cambridge Analytical (and other crooked as fuck shit orchestrated by MARK “Face Book” Zuckerberg) People are SO fucking ADDICTED They still use FB.

Even if They Object to all the Pimping of Personal Information to fuck knows Who, and for God knows for what fucking Purpose They can’t say NO MORE and QUIT FB. They’re strung out Social Media Junkies, FB is The Opium of the Masses circa 2019.

Well if You remember quite a few Moons ago I tried to Return to FB for the reason of FYB Promotion and 48 fucking hours later I was LOCKED OUT OF MY PERSONAL PAGE AND FYB’S PROMO PAGE.

  

Apparently FB tends to think I’m a Bot which is Mind Boggling. So I Said “Well I tried and FB still SUCKS DONKEY KONG DICK.” It has been suggested to Me that in My Manic Intensity jumping fully into the Project could lend someone to believe I must be a fucking Machine to work that Fast. And That Was That.

I realized recently I needed to get over Myself, Burry the Preverbal FB Hatchet, and Start Anew.

A Good Bud of Our’s by the Name of Norman McCoy volunteered to step in as Our Interim Social Media Supervisor, and We more than Happily took Him up on His offer.

     

On Tuesday Evening of this Evening McCoy has to a Free minute so He set up a Face Book Page to Chronicle the Goings On at FYB.

Wednesday McCoy logged into FB and spent an Hour and 17 minutes just putzing around more or less. That was until FB cut in and subjected McCoy to an impromptu Security Check. McCoy FULLY COMPLIED as best He could. I say that because some of the Questions didn’t have actual answers.

One of the Numerous Questions was the Bot Check You know the one where they show You a bunch of random Pictures and ask ‘Which are Pictures of Roads, Houses, Bridges etc. BUT FB’S READ ONLY: What am I Looking At?

It never specified WHAT You were supposed to be looking for to Answer the goddamn Question. So McCoy had to guess what the fuck FB wanted and replied “Random Street Scenes.”

   

After FB sudden and Schizophrenic Security Questions They demanded a Picture of McCoy sent to Them for “Review” WHICH HE DID SEVERAL TIMES. Yet FB has effectively locked Him out of the Account pending Their bullshit fake as fuck Security Picture Demand. I think its Safe to Say FB won’t be letting McCoy back in ANYTIME SOON or EVER for that Matter.

We took a internet stroll over to Good Old Reddit to see if anyone else knew what the fuck was going on as McCoy hadn’t violated FB’s Rules & Regulations as far as We and He were/are Aware.

We found more than a few People who were facing FB issues similar to McCoy. People were confounded as They too had been suddenly and unceremoniously by FB for Unknown reason(s) to Them. Some Poor Users managed to straiten the issue out ONLY TO HAVE IT HAPPEN AGAIN AND AGAIN every several Days to Weeks to Months.

 

SO as far as Any of Us can decipher is it looks like after YEARS of virtually \unrestricted Use FB finally caved into PUBLIC PRESSURE to seriously beef up Their so called Security.

Also getting caught red fucking handed LYING, DECEIVING, and EXPLOITING FB User’s and selling Their Personal Information played a HUMUNGOUS part in FB’s PHONY APOLOGIES & BULLSHIT PROMISES to do better (and NOT COMPLETELY FUCK OVER Their Users FOR PERSONAL GAIN OR PROFIT.)

Thus FB is Scrambling Frantically Back Peddling like the Scumfucks They are to “Fix” the problems mentioned above. And in doing so have built a chaotic BiPolar Frankenstein Security “System” of some sort. Point is due to time requirements FB is SO HALF ASSING IT.

Regardless of all the issues, problems, and bullshit We at FYB have experienced with The FB Fucks We have NOT GIVEN UP. NOT BY A LOOOOONG SHOT.

We have phoned in a Designated Hitter if You will in Our Dear Friend, and Long Time FYB Family member Mr. JJ Jackson.

We Will Be Back, Just Try and Stop Us Fuckerburg. All You can do is Delay the INEVITABLE:E VICTORY OF FYB ON/OVER FACE BOOK.

Thanks for Reading,

By Les Sober

 

The Delinquent Detective Ep.1 : Screaming at a Deaf Dog

Heads Up For Readers: There is a good bit of obscene language and blasphemies contained within this piece.
Rock Hard woke with a startle one hand one his set of bulbous brass balls, and in the other empty bottle of Lithuanian Whisky.
The goddamn phone was ringing relentlessly BRING! BRING! like a goddamn banshee. Rock sat up and wearily rubbing his face trying to dispel the thick fog of yesterday.
Rock was no stranger to the endless trials and tribulations of life not by a long shot. Bullshit was his bread and butter.
Rock slowly made his way to the phone his feet shuffling across the thick scummy orange shag carpet barefoot.
Rock lit a cigarette irritated that some dumb son of a bitch had the fucking nerve to call him this early in the goddamn day. Rock reached the phone and unplugged it. Whoever it was fuck them thought Rock to himself.
Finally Rock thought to himself. Rock found people to be unbelievably irritating at best.
Rock proceeded to get ready for the dismal day that lay before him. Once Rock had shit, showered, and shaved Rock headed out to the office.
Locking the door behind him he started down the hall of The Royal Hotel lined with various delinquents. The monthly crew of cantankerous characters that inhabited The Royal Hotel, one of the BigCity’s finest flop house, was an unending revolving door of debauchery.
Rock tolerated these assholes because in a flea bag shithole no one sees shit, hears shit or says shit especially the police.
The residents of The Royal were the lowest of the low. There were junkies, hookers, pimps, cults, drunks, drug dealers, shut ins, welfare cases, white trash, Neo Nazi’s (that hangout at the lobby bar), traumatized Vietnam vets, thieves, bikers,and the mentally ill with no family.
It wasn’t always that way though. Back in its heyday The Royal played host to musicians, writers, artists, film makers running the entire gamete of the art world.
Business men booked suites for their corrupt conferences where they found ways to fuck over the working man. The staff was professional and proud to be part of The Royal.
Now Tina “Two Tits” Earner the local hooker was constantly prowling for pricks in the Hotels shitty dive-like bar. Homeless Hank the blocks beloved gutter dwelling bum was living in the lobby. The rest of The Royal was a fucking freak show a goddamn insane circus.
Ignoring the nasty noises of fighting and fucking that bled through the paper thin walls Rock made his way to the downstairs. Rock stopped briefly to shoot the shit with the front desk clerk.
The clerk was an anciently old man who worked the front desk and had for 52 years named Barnabas.
“Whats going on you nasty old bastard?” Rock asked casually with no real interest.
“I’m just a goddamn gargoyle perched on this goddamn stool watching the derelicts and dopers coming and going, it’s an endless parade of the broken and disheveled . Once the sun sets the city streets flood with sinners,” replied Barnabas weirdly staring off into space.
Rock stared at Barnabas wondering if he was senile or just being a mean old shit .
Rock walked briskly to the front door to escape the scum of the Earth confined within the rancid Royal.
Before exiting Rock checked to make sure he had his two faithful companions with him his flask and his revolver. Once he had established he was in possession of both Rock burst out on to the street.
Rock waded through the littered streets coated in filth and grim. The bums lurking in doorways like living corpses that had abandoned all hope in humanity.
The hookers were returning home after a long cold night on the street selling their souls as well as their snatches.
Junkies posted on the corners heckling change from the few regular folk who hadn’t fled the dying neighborhood bathed in decay.
Over laying graffiti adorned the street plastered across walls and any available space was now coated in spray paint.
Rock didn’t mind the dereliction in fact he welcomed it. People are parasites that don’t belong in palaces was his opinion.
At least when your deep in the shit surrounded by the dregs of society you know where you stand.
There is honesty in hooliganism. You can take everything at face fucking value, no bullshit required.
Rock chain smoked a whole pack of cigarettes on his wayward walk to work. So what if smoking led to fucking cancer Rock didn’t give a rats ass what the Surgeon General had to say on the subject.
Rock picked up a couple of new packs of smokes at newspaper stand around the corner from his office. Rock’s office was a located in the Burner building within walking distance from The Royal.
The Burner was a small building sandwiched between to sky scrappers. The Burner had always been a mega for unorthodox and unconventional professions such as psychics, weapons dealers, and in Rock’s case Private Detectives.
As he approached the front door of his office on the 3rd floor of the Burner he saw a person pacing in the dimly lit hallway.
Rock was already wondering what the stranger was all about when the stranger turned towards him and said……………

To Be Continued in
The Deviant Detective Ep.2 : Getting Directions from the Blind.