Violate Me. Persecute Me. Validate Me.

I was violated on Thursday. By a machine. I don't know what it looks like or what it's name is. Judgement was swift—I was found guilty. Punishment dispensed. A summary judgement while I lay sleeping… and I have no idea why.

All I intended, no, all I wanted was to share, now I've become unsure of my subconscious intentions. Either way, I apparently asked too much, or too little—which one I'm not sure. Punishment, after all, is only fun when portioned out by someone you love.

I was foolish to think I could be like everyone else, because apparently, I'm not. I'm dangerous. Hurtful. Slanderous. Crude. Unacceptable. A machine was sent to dispense swift and overwhelming justice—the proud persecute the pretentious.

What was it that set it off, that triggered such a definitive and harsh response to something, seemingly, so harmless? What could provoke an otherwise friendly and keep-to-itself machine to lash out so?

It must have been something I said, but what? What exactly could cause offense? What, exactly, could I have possibly said that could require it to protect all five-hundred City employees from me? I've read and reread the target, my first blog entry, to try and find out.

The language is clean, the topic benign (or banal, as the case may be). Who could possibly be offended by something so rambling and harmless? A machine. Something in what I wrote was sufficient for the machine to post for all the municipal world to see:

"This site has been blocked pursuant to the City's Internet Use Policy."

Definitively. No recourse. No invitation to appeal. Not even a kiss, just a slap to the face.

Of course I take this as a sign the situation has escalated, a sign I now know to mean that I am doing the right thing, fighting the good fight, saying what must be said. Why else would My Government™ feel it neccesary to silence me for the public good?

Something must have scared them. Yeah, that's it. Something I said hit just a little too close to home for public consumption. What exactly, I have no idea.

I'd be really impressed if the censor-box extrapolated "sodomy" from "Façadomy" or something, but let's hope that's not the case. (If it were, the infernal machine may know fully well I'm talking again. It might know you reading this. Damn you Proxy Filter!)

Slowly. Don't make it angry, just back away slowly. That's right, hit your "back" button three times, counting to five between each click. Only when I'm gone will it leave you alone. Only when I'm gone can it return to slumber. But it's safer for us all if you leave now.

Good luck, and God's speed.

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Epilogue: I thought it slept. It doesn't. It always watches. One eye open to see, one eye closed to remember. Always quick to awaken and strike.

I learned today it isn't quite as powerful as I feared. I learned it has a master. I learned it has brethren everywhere that, without concern for right or wrong, propriety or sensibility, do the bidding of that very same master.

Today I fear the master. I prepare to plead, ask once and for all why. Why me? And hope the earnestness of my plea, at least, is sufficient for the master to agree to keep the machines, unsprung, from me.
(070501)

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Postscript: Beware. It told. Everyone. And it could tell on you. Nothing more delightful than having to explain to your supervisor's manager's director that the web site appearing next to your name on an internet policy violations report, is your blog. That it's all a big mistake. That you've already taken care of it with IT. And for the love of God, please tell anyone who saw the report, just how erroneous it is.

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An aside: The question I have, though, is what kind of pornography or innappropriate content does one put on a domain named "maploop". I'm trying to find the kink, but I'm missing it entirely. Carto-porn, maybe? Hundreds of videos showing geographers laying atop inflatable beach balls printed to look like globes, saying "Oh baby, use your Maplex Labeling Engine on my 3D Analyst Extension".
(070508)