So yeah, I haven't been posting lately as you can probably tell. The reason for it is this: The other day Flickr deleted my account for apparent violation of community rules without warning me, and I subsequently lost 4 years of pictures (and most pictures I posted on this site) effectively making my archives a blank slate. To quote Willard Shakespeare, holy fucking shit in a handbag. Anyway, I'm about to start the process of replacing the posts (all 1300+) with pictures I managed to save, but suffice it say the fucking wind was knocked out of me and I had no inspiration at all to post for a while. I'll be posting again this week, now that I've cooled down a bit. That being said, I'd thought I'd draft a sternly worded letter for venting purposes as well as your amusement...
Dear Mr. Flickr,
Cheers from the desk of yours truly, your formerly loyal customer! How are things? I hope they are the exact opposite of how things are here. Well technically I wasn't an actual customer, seeing as I was leeching storage space with my free account, but for the sake of our friendship let's not get into the details. Don't be a stickler, Mr. Flickr. No one likes a know-it-all.
Thanks a bunch for deciding to delete all my stuff! Wow. As a gift for your swift deletion of my photos, I'd like to make you an offer. Please, on behalf of me and all the others who trusted your site to host pictures of monkeys, German folksingers, retro robots, and other assorted strange things pilfered from the internet, take the time and go somewhere nice, perhaps with a loved one, find somewhere secluded and relaxing. Then lie down. Relax, take your shoes off. Once you are comfortable and content, please go ahead and fuck yourself. That's right. Fuck you and your salad fork crew, you pasty-faced, rule-loving automaton. I hate you more than Ghandi hates violence. I hate you more than Indiana Jones hates snakes. I hate you more than Amy Winehouse hates clear thoughts. I hate you more than dogs hate vacuum cleaners. I hate you more than that guy who hates everything hates things. God damn you, you internet soul-raping maggots.
But I mean that in the nicest way possible, Mr. Flickr. You see, we go way back. I feel like you’re one of the family. You remind me of my second cousin the angry drunk who flicks cigarette butts at babies. Except he has redeemable qualities, and I'm pretty sure you're the worst times forever times infinity. So while I'm replacing the thousands of pictures on my little blog, I'll make sure that every night I pray to the God of intertubes that your computer comes alive and eats your brain and face. Sorry my pictures of Swedish record covers and Bollywood stars shocked and appalled you. Clutch the pearls! How provocative! I suppose if I had 1200 snaps of stratus clouds, my cat wearing asshole glasses, or glossies from my totally elite Billyburg graffiti adventure I'd be ok to rock out with you awesome masters of all things cool. But I'm not. So I'm sad. I think I'm going to drink poison because of you. Then I'll die, and haunt your family during the holidays. No game of Yahtzee with your presumably awful family will ever be the same again. Get ready. I'm going to scare the shit out of you for the rest of your life.
In closing, I'd like to say thanks. Hoping you have a bitchin' summer, and I'll see you on the beach brosef! Keep in touch, BFF!
Your truly,
Mr. Recon
(P.S: By "the beach" I actually meant "Hell"..sorry about that!)
(P.P.S: Just kidding. Can I have my pictures back?)
(P.P.P.S: Just kidding to the just kidding. I'd rather get gored by a bull in the eyes than ever use your service again.)
Dear Mr. Flickr,
Cheers from the desk of yours truly, your formerly loyal customer! How are things? I hope they are the exact opposite of how things are here. Well technically I wasn't an actual customer, seeing as I was leeching storage space with my free account, but for the sake of our friendship let's not get into the details. Don't be a stickler, Mr. Flickr. No one likes a know-it-all.
Thanks a bunch for deciding to delete all my stuff! Wow. As a gift for your swift deletion of my photos, I'd like to make you an offer. Please, on behalf of me and all the others who trusted your site to host pictures of monkeys, German folksingers, retro robots, and other assorted strange things pilfered from the internet, take the time and go somewhere nice, perhaps with a loved one, find somewhere secluded and relaxing. Then lie down. Relax, take your shoes off. Once you are comfortable and content, please go ahead and fuck yourself. That's right. Fuck you and your salad fork crew, you pasty-faced, rule-loving automaton. I hate you more than Ghandi hates violence. I hate you more than Indiana Jones hates snakes. I hate you more than Amy Winehouse hates clear thoughts. I hate you more than dogs hate vacuum cleaners. I hate you more than that guy who hates everything hates things. God damn you, you internet soul-raping maggots.
But I mean that in the nicest way possible, Mr. Flickr. You see, we go way back. I feel like you’re one of the family. You remind me of my second cousin the angry drunk who flicks cigarette butts at babies. Except he has redeemable qualities, and I'm pretty sure you're the worst times forever times infinity. So while I'm replacing the thousands of pictures on my little blog, I'll make sure that every night I pray to the God of intertubes that your computer comes alive and eats your brain and face. Sorry my pictures of Swedish record covers and Bollywood stars shocked and appalled you. Clutch the pearls! How provocative! I suppose if I had 1200 snaps of stratus clouds, my cat wearing asshole glasses, or glossies from my totally elite Billyburg graffiti adventure I'd be ok to rock out with you awesome masters of all things cool. But I'm not. So I'm sad. I think I'm going to drink poison because of you. Then I'll die, and haunt your family during the holidays. No game of Yahtzee with your presumably awful family will ever be the same again. Get ready. I'm going to scare the shit out of you for the rest of your life.
In closing, I'd like to say thanks. Hoping you have a bitchin' summer, and I'll see you on the beach brosef! Keep in touch, BFF!
Your truly,
Mr. Recon
(P.S: By "the beach" I actually meant "Hell"..sorry about that!)
(P.P.S: Just kidding. Can I have my pictures back?)
(P.P.P.S: Just kidding to the just kidding. I'd rather get gored by a bull in the eyes than ever use your service again.)
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