James

Hope all is well with you.  I was trying to find a podcast you did with Rusty Vignettes last year and they seem to have disappeared.  Is that the case?  Now I see the wisdom in you publishing everything  you do - it would be a shame if those podcasts with him were just gone to the winds. 

Best,

Clark

…

Clark, I do podcasts as a courtesy to readers, as a full third of my readers and fully half of those readers who buy my books, are listeners of various podcasts. Indeed, I live with people who discovered me thru podcasts. I am a subject of wicked Fortune’s wink and nod of tolerance, a mind whore that somehow manages to seem like an independent soul due to low earnings. Yet I in fact rent my mind and soul out like a hooker rents her bodily charms. It would not due for an aging whore to turn down fresh interested parties from exploring her skill set.

The caged artist in me wants to write Comanche Station, today. But, my mind whore job is to go to the email box anytime I have wifi and write dialogues and answer queries from my patrons. I have a strong slave instinct despite my rebellious actions. As a grocer I was a chump, putting in effort far beyond any hope of recompense just for an “ataboy” from a man in a suit.

Rusty is not the only good man to assign me to his network trashcan: Dennis Dale, another fellow who sought me out, and the Fatherland crew, and Carbon Mike all ghosted me and erased any evidence of our work together. I still rate them all as good men. But when a good man is hunted across our slight-shadowed mindscape, he must protect his means of mobility, supply and his support team, every bit as much as a sniper has to maintain an egress route from his hide, keep his spotter from eating ordinance and not giving the location of his base—which in this case is his family.

After Rusty contacted me and I agreed to speak with him, I was honored, as he was obviously educated where I am not. He is also young. Then, when he ghosted me, not even letting me know if he and his were whole and healthy after I had developed a compassion for them, that felt like a slap in the face.

Then a mutual contact informed me that Rusty had a public job, his family was dependent only on his income and that the increased listeners may or did or could included coworkers or bosses that could make of him—a wretch like me. Sure, it might be fun in spots to be an old loser sneering and poking fun at the society that rejected you—but to expect a young breeding fellow to embrace the economic and familial ruin of an Andy Nowicki, a bum LaFond or a Pastor Linstett [a Christian Identity leader I recently interviewed and lack the courage to air that video because I laughed along with some of his hate-filled ramblings] as we old rejects have, that is unreasonable as well as unjust.

I accept that most of what I record will be gone with the grind. I expect that from the beginning. My attempt at leaving something worthwhile behind is all vested in writing, not speaking, which in I regard myself as a poor measure. Two nights past I did a podcast with the Myth20 crew on supply chain issues and totally blew it—ended up talking about ancient history. Indeed, I fumbled a comment from you, unable to recall what I seem to have said at some point. Then, last night, my host read me a supply chain article written by some ghetto grocer in February and posted, yesterday, in which I wrote everything I should have spoke on the podcast.

I am actually embarrassed about how much I have run my mouth in interviews over the past five years, to the point of it feeling unseemly. So, I am actually happy that some 15 hobo history interviews have not been aired and that most of what has will be wiped out. Clark, thanks for reminding me that my writing will likely outlast my rambling.