death to the fascist twitface

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I am holding a little party of wrath and glee right now over my release from the perfidious tentacles of the social death web octopus. To all the denizens of Victim Central, my apologies, but when even the itty share buttons start turning into galaxy-sucking vampires I have to cut you loose.

A big thank you goes out to Agent BB2 for alerting me to the new boil on the face of cyberspace, which was not showing up on my browser, but had shown up on Firefox. I ripped it off my blog so fast your head is still swimming and it has released me from the agonies of the terrifying cyber-ordeals about which I so recently complained. It was plaguing me for almost two weeks. Ripping that one feature from this page made it go away. It is a sign.

I switched out my action completely, dropping the old blog and starting the new one, precisely to be released from ordeals that had arisen over the life of my efforts to be a good netizen. I could not undo them any other way and I needed the change anyway. I thought that putting that dumb little sharing bar in the footer would be proof that I'm not utterly insensitive to the needs of the general population, that I do not wish to be the harridan of Outer Blogistan, that I'm a nice woman... who's just a notch over on the fierce side... really NOT going to bite... but... I will NOT be dragged into the bowels of hell again over those fucking dueling social media harbingers of your DOOM.

You're just going to have to figure it out without the little symbolic tokens of social graces, okay?

Old Uncle Dave has once again liberated me in the label nomenclature department. Fascist fucks are now formally fascist insects, here, as they have been in the general run of things since the dirty hippies appeared on the world stage. Bless his heart.

Your assignment, should you decide to accept it, is to help me gather the discontented masses together with ONE term for them that everyone will use, whether they are right or left or up or down, conspiracy nuts or befuddled herd animals, partisans of any of the outposts of the ten directions. I think this might be the crucial ingredient, along with figuring out how much you will give for the truth, to RISING.