Plan B stamp

A Change of Plan


"Caricatures and satirical piss-takes of the various archetypes into which people fall on antisocial media sites (and the stories they tell)."

That was my original idea for "Archetypal Caricatures of Antisocial Media": It was to to be a blog for posts that represent and mock stereotypical attributes/features of certain individuals that frequently appear on certain antisocial media platforms/sites on which I had accounts. However, I have subsequently left those sites or barely use them for looking at job-posting groups. (Otherwise, they are a waste of my time and don't help me to earn money). Accordingly, that's not happening any more.

I don't foresee keeping the "Archetypal Caricatures ..." blog going forward as something that will work for me. While I can certainly change the name and description of the blog, I can't change the URL, which will likely end up being misleading. I'm going to unpublish the posts on it and scrap it, which will hopefully allow me to create a "Rorschach's Journal" blog, to which I'll allocate some of the old posts, if not all of them. (Some of the earlier ones might not be a good fit or, more likely, I couldn't be bothered, since people tend not to read the older posts on blogs they already follow).

Alternately, I could scrap The Babylon Project, since that's come to a standstill as well while I'm without backers/patrons/sponsors. However, I do hope to revive it at some point in the future, provided I can get crypto/money to put into it, maybe develop a UBI faucet, since I have an idea of how I want to do that.

For now, though, my priority has to be the first few steps of the exit plan, dealing with and getting away from the issues and people that are holding me back.

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Rorschach's Journal
Rorschach's Journal

The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world. Was Rorschach. Does that answer your Questions, Doctor?


Rorschach's Journal
Rorschach's Journal

Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night. Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else. Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long.

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