I’ve gotta jot some notes before I’m quite sure what I’ll do with it:
Marashall McLuhan commented on the implicit urgency of a phone ringing. People walking on a public street may ignore the Coke sign, the red light, the beggar … but will answer the ringing pay station phone! Why? What are the chances it would be for them?
Many a time I’ve stood on a line, I won’t say patiently, but I’ve stood, my turn is coming up … the phone rings, the clerk answers the phone! How did the phone caller cut the line? What can people on the line do to signal their indignation to the store owner? Boycott the store? after organizing the customer? lots of luck.
In the early 1980s my business tumbled into free fall. I’d made enough in better times that everyone had extended me credit: as things tightened up I had no choice but to use the credit, maybe I’d make a big sale tomorrow. Formerly, the phone would ring: it might be my son, it might be a new customer, or an old customer, it might be a creditor: Where’s the rent? But by 1981 nine out of ten calls were creditors, or companies the creditor had sold the debt to. I got a kick out of their strategy: they’d hire sexy-sounding girls: you come in, you listen to your messages: suddenly a dozen horny-sounding, luscious-sounding babes want you to call them: don’t bother, they’ll just bend your ear about payments. How could I make a sale if I were on the phone 24/7 talking to sexy bill collectors?
One really funny thing happened at that time: American Express was badgering me, Master Card was ultra pissed, Mobil had repossessed by gas card: and I get a brand new Visa Card with a $3,000 line of credit! Whoopie! That got me through that day! Then Visa was just another caller, not yet having sold the debt to some phone sex company.
What did I do? All day, all week, all month, for several months … I simply never answered the phone!
Could I have missed calls from my son? No: because I phoned him and told him: Don’t call; I’ll call.
Gradually, the phone stopped ringing. When I did start answering it again I received a normal distribution of calls: if only there had been some new business.
A year or two later I was writing my first novel — dependent on business, after failing at revolution, I’d ignored creative urges; with no business no matter what I did, hell no, I resumed listening to my voices — on a borrowed Commadore 64. Something was wrong, I phoned Commadore in Pennsylvania: busy signal. I tried and tried. Finally, after wasted days, I held the phone and listened to the busy signal. A message had said that calls would be answered in the order received. At 5 PM Commadore hung up on me! (It’s a good think for those bozos that it was a long distance call, elsewhere in Pennsylvania: or I’d have been sore tempted to crash their gate and committed mayhem!)
Understand: I’m broke because A) NYU didn’t understand any of my theses for nearly ten years, B) Colby violated their contract with me, illegally firing me (at orders from federal bureaucrats, local war machine media, alumni … one may presume), and C), mainly C), because I wasted the rest of my adult life offering a not very bright society a low cost digital cybernetic social data base internet, in 1970. There isn’t anything I offered that someone hasn’t successfully offered in the decades since: people need to hear new ideas a thousand times before they hear them for the first time. How come the billions of profits from cybernetics, from digital records keeping, much of it plagiarized from me, however unconsciously, listeners simply not understanding, had not one cent of it shared with me? No, no: I got clobbered, and clobbered some more, by anti-Christians calling themselves Christians, interrupting any possible rational discussion! So: Commodore, an innovator, a hero, did its heroic innovations a long time after they’d failed to support my leadership in their direction!
And now they’re not helping me further, they’re not answering the phone: long distance, calls I can’t afford to make! can’t afford not to make!
Do they just have the phone off the hook? Do the Commodore workers arrive at 8 or 9, take the phones off the hooks, then just break all connections at 5:00 PM sharp, go home?
As an anarchist I love the story of William Faulkner working for the post office: he just threw all the mail into the bushes! A genius can’t be bothered with ordinary work! Don’t expect Jesus to keep kosher!
My darling Jan is on her way up to Canada for a couple of months. She’s been fretting about the mail suspending delivery in Sebring, holding mail for a few days, then forwarding it to Nova Scotia. She told the PO, the PO tried to deliver mail to her box yesterday anway. So she’s been calling and calling, didn’t sleep so she could be up at dawn to resume calling. Busy, busy, busy signals.
Has the phone company become like pk? like Faulkner? like Commodore?
How long can a federal monopoly get away with that?
Under Nixon, after Watergate, did the White House just leave the phones off the hook?
A couple of weeks ago the couple of lower teeth that hold my partial in place so I can eat crumbled. I finally got around to contacting the county dental department. It had taken a long time before I made the first contact: say it took me twenty years. But in this recent cycle of sessions calling a government number I finally reached a human, sort of human. She told me to call Tuesday morning at 10. I called at 10, and kept calling. I reached someone at 11: all their appointments had been given out: call next Tuesday at 10.
Imagine being a Jew in Germany, in Poland, in Moscow …
I don’t have to imagine it: I just have to be me. The frauds don’t have to coddle the undeceived, they only need to avoid totally alienating their complicites, the deceived.
I told the girl I was going to choke to death when I swallowed the partial sideways. O, come in as a walk-in emergency!
I did. At 7:30 they opened the county med facility doors, I was already twentieth in line. Half were dental. I was told to wait, see what happened, at 10 the dentist would have some idea of her time. At ten I was told she didn’t have any time, try again tomorrow.
The second day, at 9, they told me she wouldn’t be able to see me, but she’d give me 30 seconds, let me ask one question.
All the girls working for the county assured me that my experience was the common experience: everyone is on hold, no one can get through … The phones capacity is one call at a time; a hundred people queue for that one, with no feedback, no way to guess how they’re doing.
But does the government tell the 300 million that the bureaucracy, taking all our money, is geared for 1,000 of us? Everyone else can just queue up, and fuck off.
There’s no revolution for a series of reasons, one of which is that other people put up with school, got hired, made money, went to private doctors, private dentists, paid for service, sometimes got it. Cheated? Sure, but they got service, have teeth that chew. Only the poorest, the stupidest are left over: and of course the most brilliant innovators: whose help came to zero because no one understood the offer.
I clarify: my internet never happened. The public didn’t will it. No, the public wainted until my design was turned upside down. Colt invents a gun the man in the street can defend himself with; the Fed knocks him down, takes the gun away, says, Right to bear arms means you can’t do it, we’ll bear all arms for you.
Like free speech: you don’t need free speech, your slave owner will speak for you.
Listen to Obama, to Romney: he’s speaking for you!
Not one of them ever said anything I meant.
2013 02 26 In October this public dental facility, Dr. Lisa Campbell the specific dentist, gave me an appointment to refit my upper denture, another danger to my life as well as to my comfort and eating convenience. The appointment was for mid December. I waited, I arrived. The building was closed, locked, all doors, I walked entirely around. A paper stuck to the entrance door said the facility was closed for a meeting. Imagine how much money a soup kitchen could save by inviting all the starving to wait to visit a phoney address.
I told Veterans Services what happened. They told me to complain to a county commissioner: find out which one is in charge of the Avon Park facility. I was given a name, I went to the court house to track him down, I was given an email. I emailed him. He responded right away: it was a riot that anyone thought he had anything to do with the Central Florida Health Center, dental division. He said it was the state in charge, forwarded my email to someone in the state government. Weeks later I’m still waiting for a response from the state. Now someone in the building tells me it’s federal! “Joined at the hip.”
I barged in to see Dr. Cambell, showed her that now my lower partial is lethally dangerous. She told me I’d do best going to a private service, quicker, cheaper, better. I reminded her that she’s sent me on a wild goose chase last December, giving me an appointment for a day the service was closed. She didn’t seem embarrassed, improvised an excuse: maybe she didn’t mean that the date she gave me was an appointment, rather a suggestion that I wait two months and walk in as an emergency patient, not her fault the place was locked up that day. …
I’ll have to do a post just on this problem, ongoing, with Dr. Campbell. Of course Dr. Campbell should lose her license, but so should the county, the VA Services, the state, the fed … Criminal incompetence every step of the way: government a criminal conspiracy which is driving us into the ground: stonewalling, denying … every step.