Sunday, December 27, 2020

WHAT IS THAT MASKED MAN?

Facebook ads have an idea of what I'm like that's a bit more realistic than Amazon a decade ago. Based on my reading matter, Amazon decided that I was a lonesome single Christian woman keen on wholesome romances during the tribulation leading up to the apocalypse (manga, textual criticism, talmudic commentary, East Asian literature, shadow plays, and Indian food). Which was, of course, berserk. I am actually half a dozen tall black Lesbians in a stable group relationship, with a white houseboy and a gimp tied up in the basement.

Facebooks algorithms have me pegged as womens pajamas, venison sausages, gastric distress, baby yoda, crosswords, and an alcoholic.

The ads are wonderful. I'll take TWO of the darling kiddiewinkies, plus that desklamp, a full hamper of blood-dripping goodies, all the pills, the resort hotel, and the beautiful cake too.

The only thing they got right was the Chinese roast duck and dim sum. Food is my favourite visual. Other than kittens, fruit bats, red pandas, cephalopods, and cute spiders.

Like many people I resist being reduced to algorithms.

I am more than the sum of my parts.

All six of me.



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