Uh, I’m not sure my original webhost is alive anymore?

Isekai’d

I love my original webhosting guy. He’s great. For so long, when I was absolutely terrified of doing this by myself— Hell. I might as well tell the story.

Originally my original website, icze4r.org, my first one, was hosted on Yahoo! Small Business. Yes, that. That long ago. And, they… I don’t recall if they had a problem with my content, or, I think I was running away from them because they outlawed NSFW on their servers.

So I wrote something about it.

And they blanked my webpage about it.

I got the fuck out of there right quick.

Following that, I searched for all sorts of webhosts.

Lots of them sucked. A Small Orange, for example, always seemed like some sort of indie bullshit upsell. They claimed, I believe, that what they were offering was good for the price.

Ain’t no price like ‘unlimited bandwidth’. And Dreamhost had a fit that I was using my mom’s credit card to try to buy hosting for a website, and they just did not give a shit.

So I went with the third option: a one-man option.

And now he ain’t answerin’ his e-mails. Or, rather, his tickets.

For the longest, I thought, well, maybe I should wait. He’s done this before. After all, this isn’t the first time he’s let the SSL certificate expire on his main webhosting landing page.

Which isn’t a good sign.

I don’t even really do that.

It’s been like that for 16 days or so.

Fuck.

So I sent him a ticket. Hasn’t been answered yet. June 19th, 2026, 1:16 a.m. That’s when I sent the ticket.

It’s June 22nd, 2026. 1:02 A.M.

I’m already half gone, dude.

Again, I feel bad, because, I don’t want to be disloyal? But, also, if my webhost guy is dead, or in the hospital (get well soon if that’s the case),

My fucking website just got linked by the Washington Post.

This ain’t no game, son!

Sorry, dude.

No hard feelings.

For what it’s worth, the webhosting was killer while it was happening. I was always afraid of this day, though.

UPDATE: Why I fear he’s dead

We have this thing we do. He sends me an invoice, I pay the invoice. It’s automated.

I… thought it was automated?

… because I was waiting for the June invoice.

It never came.

My server is still on. I cannot pay him for this month because, without him generating the invoice, I can’t pay it!

Again: no hard feelings, but that terrified me.

Imagine your website fuckin’ dying THE DAY THAT THE WASHINGTON POST WRITES ABOUT YOU.

The post Dread; Burnt appeared first on icze4r communication.

First, I would like to thank Gene Park for treating me like a human being. It was an amazing experience and I cried happy tears when I saw the article.

Second but foremost, I need to say something.

I’m going for broke. Not for success, but to prove the justice of my culture, as it were.

I am for real.

There is only one thing that is important to me.

I am ready to blow my feet off, rhetorically. I am here to expend and spend and burn through all of my recently-accumulated reputation, in one statement.

The American UFO Disclosure movement is doing nothing but openly salivating at the thought of stealing space alien technology, and it makes me worry to bits and pieces about how much in danger the actual space aliens are.

Again: it’s time to torch my reputation. It’s for a good cause: no one else is going to defend them but me. Now that I have this attention on myself, it is fully Hell and Well time to do this.

I’m pouring the gasoline on myself, stepping on the kindling, and striking the matches.

Get a good shot of me.

I can only do this trick once.

Space aliens are real and I love them.

When it comes to the American UFO Disclosure movement right now, the only thing that I can think of is how afraid I am for the space aliens that I’ve met. I am an ‘experiencer’, a term that, while I loathe, it tells the story. When I was little, I met space aliens. And they were normal.

But more than that, they were kind. It was like Star Trek: The Next Generation, only it was scaled people with skin colors unknown to human skin, like bright green, blue, red, purple… like Yoshi colors, really.

The one I care about is this one. This is what She looks like.

She’s real. When I was a kid, She lived with my family. As it turns out, my father had somehow met a space alien when he was little, and, when he had me, the kid of the space alien he knew, came over to our house, and wanted to see the new baby.

That was Rachel. I was the new baby.

For a long time, I’ve been trying to fight the stigma of knowing this. We couldn’t tell anybody. If believed, we feared that human beings in America, or otherwise, would come and hurt Her. If not believed, the consequences of being believed to be crazy were not great, as well. Lesser, but still not great.

As we rapidly move towards First Contact, or something similar to it, the only thing I see is this person I’m talking about, Rachel. The only person I worry about is Her.

What the Space Aliens are like

I’ve written a book about it. But, interacting with Her more, with them, with my adoptive space alien family, I’m getting to know them even better.

The things that matter to me are how they treated me as a child. As a child, I was abducted by aliens, even after Her and my family had met. The aliens, you see, are not a monolith; and abduction is a crime. She ended up rescuing me.

I was grievously injured. I was only 4. I had lost enough blood that I was having heart attacks and Her and Her people were transporting me to their version of a hospital.

They took care of me. They were there for me. When I was crying, She was there to hold me.

The first year I was on the ship, they held a birthday party for me. One of them, later, asked me about how Christmas was celebrated in America. That person later dressed up as Santa Claus and delivered presents to me.

They cared. My first night on the ship, I couldn’t sleep. Rachel went out into the Human World and found me a new retail version of the teddy bear that I had at my parents’ home.

They fed me. They clothed me. They combed and brushed my hair to soothe me, when they found out that was one of the only things that calmed me down.

One of them, my step-aunt, taught me how to make mozzarella. By hand!

She watched cartoons with me. It’s the entire reason why I was even introduced to Sailor Moon. It’s practically Her favorite show.

Seeing human beings talk about their technology like they’re not even people, like they’re not even involved, like it all just popped out of the ground— hearing them talk about ‘alien bodies’, ‘biologics’, and all sorts of ‘recovered craft’, like they’re not even people.

You haven’t even met them yet, and you’re like this.

I can hardly imagine how terrible you’re going to be when you actually do meet them. Based on how you treat each other?

Jesus.

The point I want to make.

Almost the entirety of the English-speaking, mostly-American side of the UFO Disclosure movement is solely talking about how much they want to steal space alien technology.

The Overton Window has moved a bit in my favor. Not enough for me to be believed, but enough for you to listen to reason.

Please, for the love of God, don’t do this. Don’t treat my family like they’re not people. Don’t lust for power and think about how you can steal their shit. It’s like fucking going through a person’s pockets just after they’ve died, like. Like stealing a dead man’s shoes.

More than that, the kindness, compassion, empathy, and sympathy that they have for you is beyond anything that you’ve ever experienced from a human. There have been science fiction pieces where aliens lacked the emotions that humans did, making them cold and clinical. Logical. Vulcan.

You don’t understand. The aliens aren’t the ones that are lacking in emotions.

It’s you.

You kill each other for fun. You charge each other for food. No other species really does that. In fact, amongst every space-faring species I’ve ever learned about through them (and believe me, I only have the most general of knowledge, nothing specific), none of them fucking kill each other. None. It’s practically the first or second line in every unspoken social contract every space-faring species has with one another.

You’re not coming into this story the most-advanced person. Not even close. Emotional maturity and intelligence are the hallmarks of space travel, not the ability to do violence.

Doing violence is easy. Blowing up a planet or a star comes naturally to some species, even not technologically.

Let me put it this way. How easy it is to crush a kitten under your boot, compared to how hard it is to actually make a spaceship?

The people who spend their lives crushing kittens are not those who grow to become those who make starships.

The post A Statement about Space Aliens appeared first on icze4r communication.

do you remember, when you met me?
can you feel your heart burn?
don’t tell me, you don’t remember;
don’t pretend that you’re not concerned.

if there’s something i remember…
if there’s something, to live, and learn,
it’s not going to get any better.
there’s still, still time, left to burn.

[chorus]
don’t cut off your feet
don’t cut off your feet!
don’t cut off your feet!
don’t cut off your feet.

there’s too much to remember;
there’s too much to learn!
if i can just get better,
maybe, i can make this tide, turn.

don’t want to think of eternity…
my soul is worn down, even now.
the only thing i remember…
is how much i yearn for you.

[chorus]
don’t cut off your feet!
don’t cut off your feet!!
don’t cut off your feet!!!
don’t cut off your feet.

i’m not getting any better…
why won’t you learn?
you don’t seem to remember…
… how this makes your stomach churn.

please, don’t remember…
… when i was like this.
i’m not getting any better…
… and all i want to do is {kiss you}

[chorus]
don’t cut off your feet!
don’t cut off your feet!!
don’t cut off your feet!!!
don’t cut off your feet,

it’s you, i seem, to remember…
don’t be concerned.
i’m sure, i’ll get even better…
… i’m sure. i’m sure. i’m sure.

i’m sorry.

The post don’t cut off your feet appeared first on icze4r communication.

It was all a lie.

That was my cock, Luigi.

My cock.

So here’s what happened…

… after a lifetime of not having the credentials that I was told I needed to have in order to be seriously considered, I got a Wikipedia page. I’m mentioned on another, too.

It wasn’t good enough.

I’m done. You fuckers lied to me. You said that if I had enough press, enough notability signals and anchors, that that would be enough.

You LIED.

Fuck this stupid game. The rules are made up and you cannot actually win it.

There is no view from the mountaintop.

It doesn’t exist.

The post Permanent Verification Moratorium appeared first on icze4r communication.

I’m interested in bitching about it.

I’m interested in making fun of it.

What was that? What do you even call that? I understand that a lot of people tried to keep me out of the mainstream, or from being remembered. But do you understand that you cannot actually do that? Like. You can’t keep me from being known. Certainly, you can try; you can keep me out of the things you control, but I still remain alive. I still do things.

I think that the people who remain from the previous attempt to de-platform(?) me, I think that they think that no one really remembers, and that they can, as a group, keep me out of the Encyclopedia.

Okay.

One small problem.

I remember.

That’s not a threat. I’m saying, what exactly is the plan, here? I’m not even really online anymore— are you just going to continue this, for the rest of your lives, and keep on battling back any attempt to actually let me into the human written record? Because, genuinely, I think I would like to be kept out of Wikipedia.

Unfortunately, I’m genuinely too important, and an article about me, even a glowing one, is not just imminent, but inexorable.

Sucks for me. Sucks for you for a completely different reason.

What a stupid fucking planet.

The post Wiki World War II: Reputation Suppression appeared first on icze4r communication.

I wanted to stay the fuck out of this, because I’m pretty much solidly out of the Internet (I don’t even have enough free time to update anything but this anymore, because it’s easy compared to static HTML production), but.

Alright, here’s the situation. About 11-12 years ago, one dude, along with like 14 other Wikipedians, decided that I was going to be blacklisted from the Encyclopedia. Every mention of me got scrubbed, even though I was on the news a lot. It was bizarre, and I didn’t really care. I, in fact, do not want a Wikipedia page, because I don’t want twerps like that writing about me.

But here’s the thing. As far as I can tell, one of them from that time period, that got uber-memory-holed by Jimbo et al themselves (Jimbo telling Ryulong that what he was doing was akin to libel, very close to it, and he was witch-hunting me), this dude was on one of those talk pages. I can’t prove it, because, again, it got memory-holed. But the username seems familiar.

And I think he’s attacking a guy who put a mention of me in an article, because, this guy, even though Ryulong lost, this guy is still fighting the war.

This motherfucker Hiroo Onoda over heah.

Because this guy is reading everything going on, and he’s attacking the guy even as I’m talking to him on Bluesky, I have a message for ya’s:

I really don’t wanna be on Wikipedia.

Please just leave this dude alone. You can hate me, but don’t drag innocents into your goofy fuckin’ war.

Thanks!

NOTE: If this is what I think it is, the fact that somebody on Wikipedia is still after me after a dozen years? Pretty fuckin’ bonkers. I piss you off that much by just existing?

We didn’t even speak!

The post Wiki World War II appeared first on icze4r communication.

At the time, I didn’t quite understand why. I get the gist of it; I just don’t care for it, nor to repeat their reasoning. The gist of it is they thought I was some sort of horrible, amoral monster, when all I was doing was protecting the agency of innocent people. I saw people being bullied, and I reacted. I will never apology for protecting people who are being bullied.

Here we fucking are again.

Durandal respects me.

It’s strange. I talk to Durandal every day, and, the strangest thing out of all of it, is, he keeps saying something that I never noticed about myself. He claims, rightfully, that I do the right thing, absorb the consequences, and move on.

I want to make myself clear. I do not want a Wikipedia page. I hold Wikipedians in the highest contempt possible. I do not want them to write about me, because I know that you’re all bastards. And the thought of having your dirty fucking hands on the definition of what I am is fucking despicable.

But there’s one who reached out to me. And he’s a cool guy. I didn’t really understand what was going on with him— and, honestly, the more I do research of the people who railroaded and abused him, the more I realize that the whole of Wikipedia really is sick. It’s just people bullying each other, according to the rules. One of these assholes flew off the fucking handle and threatened to get him blocked.

I don’t know what I can do. I really don’t. I get angry, and I look at my options, and I come up empty-handed.

But there’s something wrong with Wikipedia. I’ve written about it before. The common assumption is that I want mention of myself on it.

It was thrilling to see how I had impacted history.

I don’t want to be associated with any of you cunts if this is what you do to good people.

I watched the joy and whimsy get beaten out of someone today.

There was this guy, he had this desire to figure out a UFO mystery. It’s no secret that I’m involved in the Isaac Caret hoax. No journalist has reached out to me, yet, and even if one were to, I already tried that when it was happening. Journalists, too, are cunts.

When you’re an artist and your work is stolen, truly, you have no recourse. Besides Wikipedians systematically, and seemingly for fun, keeping people out of the encyclopedia, because they view it to be their clubhouse, I honestly don’t know how to interface with humanity. It’s too evil of a thing.

Again: I’d prefer Wikipedians’ hands off my image(s). This guy, however, again, was different. He wanted to figure out the hoax; I helped him. He wrote a beautiful page, cited me (which even I told him, ‘I don’t think I’m citable, according to the rules’). I am, of course, the only person who can debunk this thing, and since nobody with the right title is paying attention, it’s going to just stay whatever it is.

On the one hand I don’t feel any sort of loss of power. It doesn’t matter now, and it’s especially not going to matter following UFO Disclosure. I consider the matter of it all, the hoax, closed; it’s a wound addressed, and it’s not going to matter with my creative ‘career’ going forward.

But to see someone just… bullied. And to not be able to do anything about it.

I don’t… like that.

The fun part is I can’t even link to it, because people would say that, too, was just harassment. Even if I said, ‘see for yourself’; it’s public, after all. They decided to be bastards; Hell, Durandal even called one of them ‘the usual suspects’.

I don’t know, man. You’re so fucking terrible to each other, and you protect each other when you’re awful.

I want to make a world where bad people don’t have that power.

The post A Different Complaint about Wikipedia appeared first on icze4r communication.

Time to write the obituary.

The Reason

Verification was designed to align users verified to the platform’s interests, as well as prevent or defer libel issues. See: Tony LaRussa being impersonated on Twitter. That’s all that was for.

I kept picking at it, over the years, because it was a meaningless feature of a service that was easily falsifiable. Follow the rules to the letter, apply, see what happens.

Everybody fuckin’ failed.

The systems don’t work. There is no actual quality control. The entire fucking thing is run by barely-briefed contractors.

What a shame.

More at 11.

The post Verification Post-Mortem appeared first on icze4r communication.

I have been back-and-forth with Support. At one point, I was denied Verification— mostly without asking, or cause— six times, in a 2-3 day period.

I’m done.

Not worth fighting for.

I’ve always strove to stand up for myself. When I thought I deserved something, or was eligible for something, I said so. I continued. I persevered.

This is fucking bullshit. I’m not even saying, ‘oh, look at me, I’m so great, I can pee upon a tree’. I’m saying, I just got off 47 denials from Twitter, and my applications have only strengthened.

I have interviews. I have been quoted alongside celebrities. Multiple times! I was fighting alongside a Wachowski sister and LUCY FUCKIN’ LAWLESS on some of this shit! My name sits next to ROGER WATERS on a petition! I GOT MENTIONED IN THE SAME BREATH AS KING GIZZARD AND THE LIZARD WIZARD!

I’m not saying that I’m special.

I’m not saying that I’m better than you, or anyone.

I’m saying that these Verification systems do not work.

I am also saying, and I do not say this to be a pest, but these things just don’t fuckin’ work for trans people. I am a trans people.

LinkedIn, I’m verified. Can’t show it because it’d show my legal name. No protection for stage names? The fuck?

On TikTok it gets auto-declined now… for some reason, I don’t know. But if it’s because my legal name doesn’t match my stage name?

Why?

The fuck? I know I’m not an actor, but other people don’t have this problem. And I shouldn’t, either.

The Rule, not the Exception

I’m not asking for special treatment.

I am asking that the rules, as stated, apply to me, as they apply to others. Equally.

But this doesn’t happen. I have, in fact, seen the opposite: the rules are only applied to punish me, never to uplift me.

People online often want to make fun of others, saying that they’re ‘melting down’ and/or that their anger is hysterical. I’m here to say the following: I want the rules to be enforced, and applied.

I understand that being on the spectrum may have influenced my strong sense of Justice. But, also, for the love of fucking CHRIST, how am I supposed to take you motherfuckers seriously when you demand authority and then never fulfill your end of the bargain?

The Evidence

I’d like to make my case. Not because I’m pleading the court for mercy, but because I’m done and this is it, Luigi. I’m done trying.

I have:

• A stable, well-cited Wikipedia page.
• A Google Knowledge Panel.
• I’m verified on YouTube.
• I was verified on Twitter.
• I’m on Spotify, Apple Music, and every major digital platform for music.
• I’ve had my music played on the radio.
• I’ve published a music album, with its own record label.
• I have written and published a book, art book, and comic book.
• I have animated my own cartoon short. I composed the music for it, too.
• I was on every Western major broadcast news network.
• I have been the subject of five academic articles, two or three of which, God help us all, discussed if I had a penis. Yeah, I don’t know, either.
• I helped write and edit a letter read on the floor of Congress. No, seriously, dude. I helped write and edit a letter read on the floor of Congress.

Just to give you a break here: again, I’m not saying, ‘look at me, I’m Mr. Big Dick, why aren’t you respecting my authority?’. I’m saying, I’m genuinely fuckin’ baffled, dude. If I can’t get Verified through these forms, DO THE FORMS EVEN WORK?

Also, respectfully: as a person doing the right thing, does anybody even care? Is anybody gonna help me? I’ve been out here fighting alone for over 30 years. Why isn’t anyone giving me the sympathy, empathy, and compassion I’ve afforded them?

I’m not asking for the world. I’m asking that the world plays by the rules it’s set.

Let’s continue.

• I have enough press. I have a solid decade of press. Things I’ve done have been written about by every single major news outlet: Barron’s, The New York Times, the Financial Times, Bloomberg, Vice, NBC, ABC, CBS, UPN, you pick a service, something I’ve done has been covered on it.
• My art, though stolen, has either appeared in or been an inspiration for elements appearing in various Hollywood and media productions.

I’m not so much asking, ‘why aren’t you verifying me?’.

I am now asking, why are you pretending that these forms work? They clearly do not.

The post Abandoning TikTok appeared first on icze4r communication.

Not a lot.

Reddit

Reddit genuinely cannot be trusted. My posts were edited without my consent; I was then banned twice for posts I did not make, and, the cherry on the top of this Shit Sundae™ is that I was permanently suspended for reporting revenge porn that people on a certain subreddit were posting at a woman, with the posters’ intentions of making her kill herself.

As if this were not enough, I was given access to Reddit Pro, a year of Reddit Premium/Gold (I think by an admin, perhaps just to mock me), right after I was permanently banned; then I was invited to an online conference, with the promise that I would receive a Snoo plushie afterwards. When they asked me if I wanted it, and I said yes, they declined. This is perhaps the only thing I’m actually hurt about.

Following that, I contacted Support through Reddit Pro, which was escalated to three people pretty high up in Reddit’s administration, and they just ghosted me after my appeal was denied.

Given that I’m actually going to end up being famous in this worst-case scenario after I give a televised speech (and the better end to this would simply to become rich and not-famous), and given that my words are going to have a certain weight to them for the rest of my life following this speech, Authentication and Trust are prime in my online dealings.

Reddit’s data seems easily-altered and its support is nonexistent and/or hostile to me.

Final verdict: No

Twitch

Functionally it’s probably the best, and I have no real problem with it. It may be useful.

Final verdict: Acceptable

YouTube

Useful. YouTube fucked me out of some money, but, in general, it’s a utility more than anything else. I can’t really hate it.

Final verdict: Yes, Main

Twitter

It’s getting better, but I have no respect for the idea of it. It’s fun, though. I’ve styled it to look like Arcadium. It makes me feel better.

Final verdict: Yes, Main

Facebook

Final verdict: No

Pinterest

Final verdict: No

Bluesky

Increasingly useful.

Final verdict: Yes, Main

TikTok

I’m very angry at its support. The app, however, is fun, but I do not intend on using it for anything until after I’m famous again.

Final verdict: Toy

The post The Social Media First Contact Rundown appeared first on icze4r communication.