WilliesTheStories: 69 Ads On The Free Intertubes

At this point, it is wise to thank you for following me along this fucked up story of sordid chapters all this time.

It will all make sense to you in a bit. You will see. You will see why you have.

Now listen:

As always, I make tiny music boxes that are unobtrusive so as to be a soundtrack for your reading pleasure, or dis-pleasure as it may be, but by doing so, I do not intend to steal any artist's fair share due to them for their own creativity and contribution to our humanity.

By double clicking on these tiny grey music boxes, you can find out who they are, and then go and purchase their wares.

Please buy their music, cool?

It's always been this way here.

Sometimes, artists or their labels (or perhaps a mean person) will signal that this is abuse, and the link to the tune will become broken.

The first two above are fair. Protect what is yours however you see fit. Amen, brothas and sistahs.

To the asshole who simply wants to fuck up the musical enjoyment of listening, Fuck You.

One last thing, before you continue here along with me in my own contribution to free-content Inter-Tubes enjoyment for all of us to check out, I say this:

I will watch, and perhaps click on those un-sketchy advertisements many sites place there to watch, before we can begin our enjoyment of that site's original-content (wares) for a single reason, which is this:

A half-minute of advertisement showing me something that I may actually go and purchase is a small investment of my time.

I will check out your wares.

These ads support the Free-From-Me-Paying-For-My-Enjoyment-Your-Original-Content-Online during my free time away from my workplace were I make money that I may use to purchase such wares.

You indeed are welcome to the 15 seconds of my free-time in exchange for me checking out the content of the site that follows your ad.

That is proper American Capitalism in our Internet Age.

Just don't make me watch an ad every time I want to delve further into your site, with each click.

Continuous ads suck.

Also:

Not one of you who place ads in your little sites that you use to showcase your work should ever feel bad about doing this.

Nope.

Anything we can do to help you continue working for our enjoyment is not selling-out in any way at all.

You need to eat, too. Hopefully, you will be able to live of of supplying the rest of us with your creativity.

Just this: no pop-ups or pop-unders, banners, and ugly flash thingies, unless you have a pron site that is.

That's just the price we nawsty bastards pay for visiting those pron sites.

(Well, fuck flash banners. Yuck)

So, when creating your pron site, please: do not include adware, spybots, trackers, and all that ugliness.

Those code pirates are the fucking bastards, those who write invasive code to fuck up someone's computer, as well as those who do not contribute to free content, and simply want to sponge off the creativity of others by amassing multitudinous pron links for their own monetary gain, without actually putting up anything of their own, or at least, links to free sites....

Fuck You, Leech.

Yes, You, sponge.

OK, Off The Soapbox.

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LORELEI AFTERMATH CHAPTER, (finally)

Here's a tune to hear that I have posted before in this years-long tale while you check out some sad shit I have written for you to peruse freely here today.

Check out these lyrics:

"I'm Going to Hell, and I Chust Don't Care."

Nice.

Get your head in the game, however you go about it, for this Lorelei Aftermath. A bowl of cereal, smoke, or beer will suffice.

There will always be an Aftermath.

The ride back home was quite quiet.

I had a court date, which had nothing to do with courting a lady.

In fact, the last time I ever saw Lorelei, even though she smiled at me in such an odd way; I was indeed Chust So Sad.

That weird German chick had done something to me.

And I had done zomezing to her as well.

We ain't talking Sausages and Streusel here, although that back seat enjoyment was another trip to the moon, baby.

She and I had this thing, this some sort of connection that I couldn't explain back then. Yup, no words for it.

All I can tell you my friend is that I wonder how she fared back in her motherland, and if she went on to accomplish the dirty, ugly, frightening things that I have told you before in this true tale, and of which I will connect together for you as we go along.

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"Will." My mom drove our gold station wagon back towards our duplex on Chestnut Street and I sat in the passenger seat. I was along for the ride, but I was the reason for the ride.

"Mom?" I could not look at her. Any mention of Lorelei would cause something to happen. Of what, I could not be sure. I was tightly bound like a sack of China plates and crystal goblets, and any mention of that weird German chick would splinter me into shards.

She did not look at me. "What the hell is going on with you?"

I just stared out the window, looking at the Joshua trees lining the road, squinting in the bright Californiation sunlight.

There were palm trees, but I only had eyes for the Joshua trees.

They looked like angry---

"WILL!" My mom pulled over to the side of the road. "I asked you a question. Now answer me."

It was too much. I was not a follower of Punkology at that time, and this was my mom, the original Punkologist.

You will see why, much later.

"Mom. Puh-puh-leeeze..."

The damn broke.

I could not contain so much sorrow, angst, anger, and hopelessness in one word such as the word "Mom."

Yeah, I was kind of fucked up there.

And there alongside that road in Fuckno called Barlow Street, she finally mothered me. It had been a while. She held me tight, and did not ask anymore of anything.

That was the last time I can remember her hugging me in that fucked up state, before she took the gold station wagon and drove back to Maine with my two little sisters in tow.

But I will always remember that hug.

Mom Issues? Dad issues?

Huh. No.

Well, chust ask Lorelei what she had been thinking.

Check out TDC tomorrow if you want.

Your Links.

A couple of links in case you have been feeling withdrawals from the political races.

For you Tea Bag Partiers. Glenn Beck in 2012

Sarah Palin explained to them Asians.

For the rest of us, antidote:

What ever happened to the first space robot we were supposed to send off?

Prolly shit his pants.

Gotta shake it out a bit.