I am a cyborg. I am death incarnate. When Apocalypse transformed me, I laughed at the freedom I now had.

I know the depths of depression, the dark skies in which one hopes to find a reflection. I do not lecture. Philip K. Dick was a one-note author, but he built a few resonant chords with that note.

I am sorry that you, as we all do, come face to face with despair. It is the hallmark of everyone who creates. Ultimately, there has to be someone to look upon the creation, and that is when the value is sometimes fixed. The cartoons I thought were hilarious were often greeted with a shrug, while those I tossed off "just to post something" were greeted with praise. What do I do? Nothing. I shrug and I still submit the ones I think are hilarious, and expect nothing. And I submit the ones I toss off, hoping to hear the audience.

Of course, I'm a cyborg. A deadly radioactive cyborg. A cyborg who got fired on Friday, though that's neither here nor there. It's one of those hilarious cartoons that no one laughs at.

Thanks for being there. But there are times when humor doesn't help. There are times when I pay for everything you like about what I write, Times when I hate absolutely everyone.. with all polite apologies.

I'd present my cyborg credentials and argue that Philip K Dick was a hack on that other site, if I knew where it was.

BC? Apoth? Are you cyborgs? Do you have big tits in tight uniforms? Do you exesmplify the surpassing philosophies of Philip K. Dick?

If not, talk to me in the morning. But don't lecture me tonight. I'm allowed to be as pissed as I want. The thing nobody really gets. The utter blackness of being entirely alone, no matter how many want to vitiate the pain. Who is St. Nuke? Don't answer. Don't pretend you know.

For a guy who patiently compiled a vast, intricate, and elaborately-interwoven text spanning the entire breadth of recorded human history, you sure do get discouraged in a hurry.

I love Instapunk.com and would be sad if you shut it down.

Well, maybe I should shut the whole thing down... the silence when there's no cyborg on the scene is deafening.

Sound and fury and disappointment.

PJ:

Hey, you do whatever you want or feel like. You don't have to justify anything. Not here, not anywhere. But take a look at 'Into the Metalkort.' It's easy to partipate, and I KNOW there are people who want to hear what you have to say -- whether it's about 9/11 or stamp collecting.

Very nice. Yeah, the growing readership has a growing set of curiously shared interests. Not all are going to overlap, though that's a feature, not a bug. Me, I like CP's lists of things like the best western gunfights because I don't know a dang thing about the genre and don't know where to start. Stuff like that all over, I'm guessing.

Also, my apologies for any inadvertent damage done to the... whatever it is. Punk gestalt. The ferocious truth-telling is a beautiful thing. The reasoning here is scalpels and lasers, not the all-caps shillelaghs and machetes used in most of the 'net. Instead of manic shrieking, thought (of whatever volume). Next time I give any fan-boy whinging, whack me in the head and tell me to get a freakin' grip and write something.