A tiny ditty in completion of my weekly creative challenge. It's very short and trivial in structure but I think it's a good song that would not be enhanced by further elaboration.

Written in response to prompts from my dear old friend Anne Galvin:

"Schrodinger, a cat, 'how'd that work out for ya?'"

Strictly speaking, I cheated a little on the character, but hey, representation matters.

G Dm Am7

I went to a lecture by Schroedinger’s cat
And she said
History is written by the lucky and the fat
My sisters, half my sisters, statistically anyway half, they’ll tell you
Don’t worry
This is fine

And the other half… (silent verse)

And this, yes this my kittens
(And her gaze became imploring)
Is the reason I never ask:

“How’d that work out for ya?”

People get confused. They think the monster is the man...

In fulfillment of my creative challenge for the week. And by the bye: it's Thursday everyone. Where's your installment?

People get confused
They think the monster is the man
They think the man is a scientist
But he's really just a hobbyist

And the monster is confused
He never really thought it'd come to this
Just a scare, just a little kiss
Just a clever ruse

But they made him the mayor of this fucked up town
And the cops want to drive him around
And I hear a giant sucking sound

Oh my Frankenstein
You used to be a friend of mine
We had dinner parties all the time

Until the villagers came and took you away
And dressed you in a cape
And crowned you king

You thought it would be fun
But then you stepped on everyone
And the bastards cheered you on
It's about time someone got something done

I don't understand
This is not the second life we planned
This is not the second life we planned
This is not the second life we planned
This is not the second life... we... planned...
Oh my Frankenstein

The ideas that I put into your mind

Folks to follow here on One Post Wonder:

You should check out Rebecca Metraux Canna and her delicious baking skillz. Also Anne Mollo for her storytelling. And Matt Lichtenwalner for his artwork and tales from the road. General excellent-human-ness goes without saying.

When I built OPW, I never meant for folks to feel like every post has to be Shakespeare. But — and this is a testament to the love and care people do put into their posts — it often feels that way, even to me. I only get one per day! So it had better be awesome! So I don't post at all!

But I don't want it to be that way. So I'm going to try to be the fluff I want to see in the world. If I'm fresh out of spoons — if all I have is, let's say, half a spork — I'm just gonna keep it light.

Wait... that was insightful. Does this post still qualify as light? Am I cheating? O NOES

For a while I've thought it might be a little too confusing, the way One Post Wonder separates "following" people from "giving keys" to people. But, I also suspected this was just my ego talking: surely people would use One Post Wonder more if they only understoooood it!

Also, that distinction is hugely important to many of you. The way other social networks... socially engineer... connections you don't really want is something you've asked me to avoid.

So I haven't made any changes in this area in a while.

Today, though, I got feedback from two very smart-but-busy people who had the same confusion: they didn't catch that you have to give out keys if you want your friends to actually be able to read your wonderfully private posts.

So I made what I think is the right change.

When you follow someone, you are already given a chance to give them keys. But it's worded in a very chill way... it's sorta hard to tell if you have actually selected any keys or not... and if you click "Give Keys" without actually clicking any keys, there's no warning.

Accordingly, I added that warning message. And I also went ahead and added a bold-text message explaining bluntly that this ain't Facebook.

I think this will help a lot. Although, even as I look at it, I see a problem: we're referring to those buttons as "keys," and they have lock icons.

[Headslap]

... I'll fix that too. 😂

EDITED TO ADD: even more grease!

That should do it... I hope! 

As promised, you can now leave One Post Wonder permanently without asking for my assistance.

To access it, one clicks "Me," then "Account," then scrolls down a wee bit to the bright red words "delete my account."

I hate it when "delete my account" is hidden or absent. Had anyone actually asked for it, I would certainly have added it sooner.

I also dislike when the process contains unnecessary roadblocks. So my first take on it did not have a "confirm your password" prompt.

However, when I took a good look at the result, I realized that an unintentional, cat-powered or mean-jerk-powered account deletion was a real possibility, and that people do tend to value a journal they've been posting to for years.

So at some cost in convenience, I decided the password confirmation prompt was a good idea overall.

It's most annoying, of course, if you've forgotten your password. So the "hmm, sorry, that's not right" message also includes a suggestion to try the password reset feature if you're stumped.

I think this is a good implementation of a feature I hope will be rarely needed.

My next goal is a decent export feature, something that produces static HTML pages that a user of typical technical skill can figure out a way to enjoy.

If your screen is very, very good and your eyes are sharp, maybe you noticed the actual "delete my account" button. Fawkers.

But I don't get to criticize. Because ya know what OPW doesn't have? A "delete my account" button. Shame on me.

I'm publicly shaming myself here because I need a little motivation to release this feature, which is completely coded and ready to go — I just need to test it a little more.

Cue Neil Gaiman quote.

Look, I don't care where you go, but get off LiveJournal. Today I was presented with this:

"The translation of this User Agreement is not a legally binding document. The original User Agreement, which is valid, is located at" [see document in Russian].

OK, so other sites change their terms... WITHOUT telling you they are NOT BOUND by the English version, that is... But LiveJournal also got rid of HTTPS recently. (Translation: completely sniffable on the wire.)

It's been circling the drain for a long time but COME ON CHILDREN, we need to FIND THE EXITS AND DEPART.

I will have to make time to check my backups and delete my LJ. What a PITA.

Well, it was good while it lasted. And it lasted a long time.

Pet theory: social media became much more intense and notification-y during the years 2006 to 2016, years when liberals were used to being frustrated or angered but rarely terrified by the news. After all, we were in control of the House, the Senate, the White House or all three. Things got better and worse but rarely took a huge jump for the worse.

So being bombarded with a lot of information about the state of the world was easier to bear for a majority of those who initially liked and adopted it.

Now the habit of bombarding ourselves with maximum input has been locked in... and in the Trump era, all this extra data — meaning all these extra camera angles and echoes of the same thing — has become a curse. "Total situational awareness" of a frightening situation is not good for you.

You need sufficient awareness to assess the problem and decide what you can do about it. More than that is an express train ride to burnout or worse.

Of course I'm posting this to One Post Wonder, which shows I was thinking about this a while ago, but it was a whole lot more theoretical then.

Just finished "Between the World and Me," by Ta-Nehisi Coates. Recommended.

There are things most "white" folks, especially white men, can't really understand if our bodies have never been at risk of being randomly destroyed. On an ordinary day. With little or no connection to our actions.

The book is by no means intended solely as a manual for understanding what that feels like. Still, it succeeds brilliantly on that level.

But it's a mistake to read it as a letter to white Americans. The book is written in the form of a letter to his son, following a model laid down by James Baldwin in "The Fire Next Time." In the end, he tells his son to struggle — to pursue a better, less fearful existence for himself — but not to struggle for "the dreamers," the people who buy into the idea of whiteness. Because our awakening, if it ever happens, will have to come from within. And from his perspective, it's not worth getting shot for that slim hope.

I felt that blow — he is saying to us, in effect: "don't wait for your victims to come save you from your own history. We can't and won't. If you're going to change, change yourselves. But I won't wait up nights." There is little to suggest that he should.

The most beautiful parts of the book concern his own coming of age, the awakening of a sense of possibility at Howard University, tasting what it means to blend into the crowd and be invisible while visiting Paris. But also the shooting death of a friend at the hands of the police, and a conversation with his friend's mother. And his son, heartbreakingly certain that Michael Brown's killer would be indicted. And... how little has changed.