Letter from Seoul - 11

Notes from Prisoner 62157

Dorothy Parker’s wisdom of skepticism and cynicism is best expressed in “What fresh hell is this?”  Allegedly, this was how she answered every phone call.

 Words to live by.

 Martin Ingber is a photographer I respect very much. We also share the same concerns about the cowardly scum trying to subvert democracy in America. The other day, Ingber posted a photograph from Semana Santa in Spain to a Facebook group. It was first-rate, as always.. For the unfamiliar, Semana Santa means Holy Week in Spanish, and Seville is really the epicenter for this century’s old tradition. Semana Santa is a family-oriented festival, with joyful processions throughout the day, beginning and ending in moderate-sized plazas that date from the Roman Empire era, as the group meanders along narrow one-lane cobblestone streets. 

 To Americans, this sight can be unnerving since men in the procession are dressed in white costumes featuring white cone-shaped hats that strongly suggest Ku Klux Klan (KKK) regalia. The KKK is a vehemently anti-Black terrorist group that dates from the end of the American Civil War.  Irony of ironies, the KKK despises Catholics of all races and heritages.

Like Ingber, I posted a photo from Semana Santa to the same FB group – from my week-long stay in Seville during 2017. I have posted the same photo a few times over the years to different FB groups.

 Within seconds, FB shut down my account.

 “What fresh hell is this?”

 As I grow older and the need to survive becomes less urgent, I see myself more clearly.  If you worry, you die. If you do not worry, you die. So, why worry?  Yet that is easier said than done.

 Fakebook has been shutting me down regularly over the past three months – primarily for scathing comments and memes about convicted felon and department store rapist Donald Trump.

 The New Robber Barons like Jeff Bezos, Mark Fuckerberg, the Google boys, and Elon Musk want America’s greatest traitor back in The White House to continue with the illiberal policies of Ronald Reagan – what used to be called “The Gospel of Wealth,” when both Carnegie and Rockefeller had union organizers shot dead by state militias or Pinkerton agents, and slash their tax obligations to zero. 

 Screw the American middle-class wage-slaves trapped in 25-year credit card debt. Get back down in the boat and row.

 Fakebook is like the daily death of waking up beside someone you detest.  Fuckerburg, our Meta Overlord, has no apparent worries, no interests, no sense of struggle. His face has something mildly anal about it, whose nose is like a painfully swollen hemorrhoid. 

 After being denied the usual protocol to re-establish my account, I turned to some faceless person on the other side of the screen who identified as a male named Joe or Sam. 

 People who work at call centers for Fakebook, an airline company or myriad Visa credit card affiliates are as interesting as defecating cattle at a branding. 

 It’s easy to imagine these deadenders confined to stubbornly impersonal cubicles like skinny El Greco greyhounds, with the painfully imploring eyes of dying nuns.

 Fakebook Joe advised that he would send me a special code number, and that I had to produce a video of myself holding it.  What - and I cannot put too fine a point on this - the fuck?

 The instructions:

“Michael,
Thanks for reaching out to us about your account. Here is your code and the video instructions we discussed.
Complete these steps to get back on Facebook:

1. Write down this code. The code must be handwritten. You can write the code on a piece of paper, on your hand, on a napkin, etc.
62157

2. Reply to this email and attach your video. Send the video as an attachment — do not send a link to the video.
Once that’s done, we’ll review your video, make sure the code matches and email you with your confirmation decision.”

My response would normally be: fuck straight off.

Despite my contempt for Fuckerberg, I enjoy the Fakebook platform for the ability to see the street photography of so many inspiring contemporaries.

 Besides, there’s the ability to post diatribes about all the low-wattage glue-huffers enthralled with  Donald Trump, a man with the vision of a mole, the courage of a squirrel and the dignity of a dunk-tank clown.

 My response to cubicle Joe:

“I’m happily retired and know nothing about video equipment. Here is a photo.  It makes for a good prison mug shot. 

 FB locked me out of my account. You could send me a code to my cell phone. I happen to spend most of my time in Seoul. 

 Yet you already know this. There are no secrets anymore. The omnipotent FB knows about all of us.

Should I expect more arbitrary lock-outs?

Sincerely,

Prisoner 62157”

Cubicle Joe’s response:

“Hi Michael,

Thanks for sending us the photo. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to verify your identity using what you sent. The best thing to do is to try again by recording a video and sending it to us.”

 What fresh hell is this?  A letter of vegetable indifference.

 Of course I have no idea who I’m dealing on the other side of the screen, and I feel like I’m being screwed without a reach around.

 “FB: Enclosed please find the same photo which clearly meets all requirements. No one tried to log-on to my account. Be honest if that’s possible, you immediately flagged me for my Semana Santa photo; no other reason.

 In Spanish: Semana Santa means Holy Week. Contrary to American perceptions, this is not a KKK rally. It is a holy celebration for Catholic families. I have posted this photo and others from that celebration several times on FB over the years. This goes for other photographers, as well. It is life. If this evidence and explanation is not good enough for you. I will create another account. It’s not difficult. Ask Putin’s squad in St. Petersburg.”

I heard nothing more from FB, and I’m back on-line.

Pavel Durov is not exactly a household name on a par with Fuckerberg and Musk – yet he is the CEO of Fakebook-like platform, VKontakte, which boasts 950-million users. 

 Is Durov Russian? 

Does Putin have his enemies tossed out of upper-floor hotel windows in foreign capitals?

 I rest my case.

 From The Guardian for August 26: “Durov was arrested over the weekend by French authorities when he stepped off his private jet in the Bourget airport near Paris. He faces alleged offences that could include enabling fraud, drug trafficking, organised crime, promotion of terrorism and cyberbullying. He may not be an Elon Musk or a Mark Zuckerberg, but he is the first big name in tech to find himself potentially on the wrong side of the European Union’s increasingly strict laws and regulations in the digital sphere. French authorities have also accused Durov of enabling the distribution of images of child abuse and providing a vital organizational tool for organized crime.”

Watch out Fuckerberg, you might cancel all upcoming trips to the European Union for the foreseeable future.

 Don’t worry, mi amigo ... mio amico ... mon ami.

If you’re ever in a tight spot, send me a video of you holding a large piece of paper with a very special code that I have sent you.

Leave the rest to me.

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