Tag Archive | threats

Slavktivism or Activism?

There sometimes comes a time when the voices of internet activists are so loud that they begin to effect an actual change in the real world. There sometimes comes a time when enough people shouting, “We aren’t happy!” prompts other people to ask, “So what do you want us to do about it?”

It’s true that my activism takes place primarily on the Internet. There are a few reasons for this, but it’s mostly a matter of timing, and I’ve been working through the last six months to transition that activism into the real world. Even so, I don’t think that internet activism is automatically slacktivism, because I can point to at least five people whose ties to libertarian thought originated with my Facebook posts. Five, of course, is a drop in the bucket, but I would consider the time spent writing to be well used if I’d introduced even one person to libertarian philosophy.

Something I’ve written about before is continuing to happen, though, and Arvin Vohra gives is a clear case of it within the Libertarian Party. I’ve frequently said that Black Lives Matter enjoyed the national spotlight for nearly two years and yet didn’t accomplish a single thing except to make people aware that they weren’t happy. No policies were changed, and no police were found guilty. You’d be forgiven for thinking that we hadn’t just seen interstates throughout the nation shut down by protests. It’s a curious thing that protesters could command that level of attention and organization, yet accomplish absolutely nothing.

It’s slacktivism.

The activist has goals, and usually has at least some idea of how to get from where we are to that destination. The slacktivist has no goals, and instead has only emotions. “Everyone should be treated equally!” isn’t a goal, after all–it’s an emotional statement that could lead one to formulate a goal. “The military should be dismantled entirely” is a goal, albeit one that is hard to sell to the masses. It’s an actual action with an actual outcome, not a loose guide.

Considering Arvin Vohra, the emotional statement is “You shouldn’t say negative things about this group!” while a concrete action would be “Arvin should be removed from office!”

At a glance, I’d say that the difference between activism and slacktivism is that the slacktivist wants to tell other people what to do, while the activist wants to do things that have a desired outcome. The slacktivist proposes mandates of other people’s actions, knowing that they can’t be enforced, while the activist cares little about what other people are doing because the activist is working personally for the change they want to see. The slacktivist says, “You do this.” The activist says, “I’m going to do this.”

The goal of the slacktivist is nothing better than ensuring that everyone knows how unhappy they are; the activist doesn’t really have time to wax at length about their emotional reactions to various stimuli. In Buddhist terms, the slacktivist says, “I am suffering,” while the activist says, “There is suffering.”

Everyone has goals, though–even the slacktivist. However, the slacktivist just wants everyone to know that they aren’t happy. Slacktivism obviously isn’t limited to the internet, but the internet has made it much easier for Random Joe to spread his discontent, so it’s going to be more common on the Internet. How many pointless, ineffectual petitions are there on Change.Org? Tens of thousands? That’s slacktivism in a nutshell.

Why, there’s even a petition there to remove Arvin.

When the slacktivist sets out, their goal is to make sure other people know they are unhappy, and their method is to tell everyone that they aren’t happy. They want nothing beyond that, and if their voices become so loud that it seems they could actually achieve something beyond that, they’ll strangely back off. The child doesn’t want the parent to do anything except acknowledge that the child is throwing a tantrum.

It came as no surprise to me, to see a motion put forward to remove Arvin, and to immediately have the masses of people calling for his head to say, “Oh, hold on, let’s not be hasty here!” The same thing happened with Comey just a few weeks ago–mere months ago, liberals were calling for his head, but as soon as something real happened, they flipped entirely to the other side.

It reminds me of when I ran for class President my senior year, and proceeded to Ralph Nader the crap out of it. I didn’t want to win, and it’s a tremendously good thing that I didn’t. But, strangely, that didn’t stop me from running and campaigning. I didn’t win, but I split the white vote (in a school that had a very slight white majority, and it’s a matter of record that most people voted along racial lines–yes, even the black kids) enough that the black girl who had run and lost each year actually won the election. All that said, I didn’t want to win, and I didn’t even really want to spoil the vote. But that didn’t stop me. I guess I just wanted to see if I could. I don’t know. I was an idiot high schooler who dropped out a month later.

The platitudologists among us would probably say that the slacktivists truly want to accomplish things, but they are more paralyzed by a fear of success than anything else, and that could work as an explanation of this strange behavior, but I don’t think that “fear” is the right word. They’re not afraid of success; they’re just not aiming for the goal that most people assume, and that they even express to be their goal.

They say they want Arvin removed, and I know of many people who said that, right up until a motion was made. The removal of Arvin Vohra was not their goal; however, the threat of removing Arvin Vohra was among their methods for achieving their goal. They just wanted everyone to know they weren’t happy, to give them attention and acknowledge their discontent, and to at least pretend to give a shit what they feel. Toward that end, they did two things: they bitched, and they made what they thought were mostly empty threats. Like if I said I was going to nuke Washington D.C. (Hello, NSA/CIA!) if Trump didn’t step down, that would be an idle threat that no one would take seriously. But what if some rabble-rouser who shared my sentiments agreed and sent me a nuke?

Uh-oh. I’d suddenly be in a pretty awkward position (not to mention–in Gitmo) of having to find some kind of way to avoid admitting that I was totally full of shit. To that end, I’d backpedal from my previous hard-line stance, and would probably say, “You’ve gotta give Trump a chance to comply…”

Just like people backpedaled on Vohra and, now that they metaphorically have nukes, are suggesting that he must first be given a chance.

“Full of shit” indeed.

They didn’t want to remove Arvin. They just wanted to threaten to, as a way of forcing people to take their incessant whining seriously. Without that threat, they have nothing, and can easily be dismissed. “I’m not happy!” by itself is a lulz-worthy whine. “I’m not happy! Fix it or I’m gonna…” can be a potentially serious threat.

I say we should call them on their bluff, and call them on their bullshit.

The Story of How Google Attempted to Intimidate Me Into Silence


Apparently my very existence is offensive.

transgender not acceptable

Google would have me stop saying that I’m transgender, because apparently that’s offensive to someone. Since “transgender” is the politically correct term for people like me, Google is saying that I’m not allowed to tell people I’m transgender. I mean that literally. That’s literally what they said–there is the email. I only edited out my name. Apparently, my being transgender is offensive. Evidently, my existence is offensive.

I exist, Google. And I am proud to be who I am, and I will continue to be who I am whether people like it or not. You have now lied to me. You have attempted to intimidate me. And now you have told me that my very existence is objectionable. I will not give you another penny, Google. And thanks to Ghostery, you won’t get any money from me through your advertising, either, and I’ve long preferred Duckduckgo as a search engine. I will not give you money after you have explicitly said that my very existence is offensive.

Here is a podcast on the matter:

The Original Post

A few days ago, I started running ads through Google that directed people to this website, the “Trans Anarchist.” I had very little choice but to do that, because Google wouldn’t let me use the word “Shemale” in the ad itself (even though the ad leads to a website that has “shemale” in its URL, banner, and title…). I’ve contacted Google to get that worked out, explaining to them that it’s my responsibility to communicate effectively, and the most effective way that I can communicate my nature is with the word “shemale,” that the word can only be tied to pornography if we the people allow it to be, and I, as a shemale, refuse to allow the word to be inextricably tied to pornography. That’s my word. I am a shemale, so, yes, I absolutely have the right to disassociate the word from pornography.

The ad was approved, and it ran for a few days, and then I decided to change its target so that it pointed to my podcast, the RSS Feed for which is to the right. This meant that the ad had to be approved again (ugh), but I figured “That’s fine. It’s pretty much just my website, but in spoken form,” so I submitted it.


Click for larger image.

Oh, Google, you’ve stepped in it now… and you don’t even realize it, do you? That’s okay. I don’t mind that you’re a multi-billion dollar multi-national corporation. I’m going to rip you apart anyway. So, Google, sit back, grab a cup of coffee, and be prepared to be ripped apart for your blatant hypocrisy and favoritism. I hope you’re prepared for this. Oh, it’s not likely that I can actually do anything about it. Don’t get me wrong–I’m well aware of that. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to allow such horrific hypocrisy to stand uncontested. It is my duty, as The Shemale Anarchist, to rip apart hypocrisy wherever I may find it, because it is that hypocrisy–that “say one thing and do another” bullshit–that has allowed the world to fall into such a terrible state. It is our duty, as rational, logical, and principled people, to launch assaults on hypocrisy whenever it appears.

Click to enlarge.

Click to enlarge.

My issue isn’t that Google finds me offensive. Really, it’s not. I’m well aware that many people find me offensive, and I don’t care. I laughed when I saw the response, until I began wondering what it was that they actually found offensive. Because there aren’t very many things that anyone can definitively demonstrate are objectionable.

Only in a Fascist society that has lost its mind can liberty and tolerance be considered offensive.

My first thought was that it was because I was titled at Podbean “The Shemale Anarchist.” But that can’t be the case. “The Shemale” has been tied to my website here from the beginning. Could it be the foul language? Definitely not. My website contains plenty of foul language. Beyond that, it clearly can’t be the podcasts themselves. Why? Because of the RSS Feed you see over on the right. My Podcasts from Podbean feed directly to this website. If the podcasts are offensive at Podbean, then they must be offensive here. Yet my website was approved, so that can’t be the case, can it?

It can’t be that “R&R Ep 03 – You Intolerant Bastards” is a problem, because, though that does appear at Podbean, at the time it was one of the most recent episodes and certainly appeared here at Shemale Diary, as well, right there on the right, in the RSS Feed. That podcast was in both places. One was approved, one was not. So the logical conclusion is that the podcast isn’t the problem.

When I called Google Adwords (Kudos to them for low wait times and for connecting me with an American, I must say), the woman with whom I spoke referenced that episode as the problem. I objected, of course. There is worse material here on this website, and that podcast itself was (at the time) here on this website. When I requested that the disapproved ad be sent back to the approval team, I was told that it’s an automatic process and that nothing can be done about it.

That’s clearly not the case. Human judgment was clearly involved, and human mistakes are clearly what caused the initial ad to be approved. If one is offensive and must be disapproved, then both are offensive and must be disapproved. So that one of the ads made it through fine is, ipso facto, proof that there is human judgment involved and that the process is not automatic. This means the woman lied to me, but it gets worse.

Her response was that she could send the initial ad back through and make sure that both of them are disapproved. This seemed to be a threat, and I certainly took it as one. “Take what you can get,” is basically what she said, “or we’ll take away them both.”

Well. I don’t respond well to threats. Threatening to take both of my ads away if I continue to raise a ruckus about your hypocrisy is not going to have the effect you want it to have, Google. And it didn’t. So what did I say in response to this threat?

“Yes! Absolutely! Do what you’ve gotta do. If you have to disapprove both of them, fine. But since the same exact content is available in both places, you cannot justify the position that one is acceptable and one is offensive. By all means, then, do that.”

“Well, resubmit the first ad,” the woman said. “And I can’t guarantee that it will be disapproved…”

And that is the problem, lady! Don’t you see how blatantly hypocritical and deceitful that is? You clearly lied to me. If it was an automatic process, then you would be able to guarantee that the resubmission would be disapproved. Principles, their expression through Policy, and the application of these Policies is an automatic process. I know that, because I’m an anarchist. I do have principles and policies, and I do apply them without discrimination. I know exactly how principles and policies work, Google, and that is precisely why I support John McAfee. When you rely on principles, you always come to the same results. That you can’t guarantee the same result, Google, is proof that you do not rely on principles and policies.

The woman was clearly not prepared to have me call her bluff. How dare she threaten me like that, though. How dare she say to me, “If you want, we can make sure that both of your ads are disapproved. But you can instead just take the one we’re giving you, and not make us take both of them away.” No, hell no, not going to allow that.

You want to bluff me, Google? I will call your bluff. Every single time.

You can’t now hide behind your policy and say that you can’t do anything about the ad that was disapproved. That’s obviously and demonstrably false. If it was true that ad approval is an automatic process, then:

  • www.shemalediary.wordpress.com wouldn’t have been approved, because it contains an RSS Feed directly from the “offensive material.”
  • You would be able to guarantee me that a re-submission of the original ad wouldn’t get approved.
  • Which is just remarkably stupid when you think about it, because my entire point is that the initial ad shouldn’t have been approved if the podcast in question is the objectionable material, but it was, and now they’re disapproving the ad on the basis of that podcast, yet can’t guarantee that this site, which contains an RSS Feed that has that podcast, will be disapproved.

And you want to tell me that your policy justifies that insane rambling of doublethink and nothink? So I’m going to extend the RSS Feed so that it absolutely contains “You Intolerant Bastards” in the feed, and then I’m going to resubmit. And, yes, I’m going to post this and leave it here, because Google has either violated their own policy or they are unfairly targeting my podcast page.

Why do I say that? Because the only difference between ariadimezzo.podbean.com and shemalediary.wordpress.com is that one is far more accessible (being a spoken podcast) than the other (being written articles). The word “fucking” appears all over the place on this website. In fact, I did a search for the word “fucking” in the search bar, then did the “find in page”. 37 matches.

It appears once on the podcasts.

So don’t bullshit me, Google. If the word “fucking” is a problem, then you should have disapproved my first ad “with extreme prejudice.” But you didn’t. You approved it, and you’ll probably approve it again. And, yes, I’m going to have this right there at the top of the website when I submit the ad so that I know someone at Google has seen it. Either you have to approve both, or you have to disapprove both. You can’t hide behind principles and policies when I can demonstrate that you didn’t apply principles and policies. You applied some arbitrary criteria that is unknown, but you certainly didn’t uniformly apply your policies. And you clearly don’t uniformly apply them, because you still can’t guarantee that this website will be disapproved.

Ad to a website of written content that the average surfer won’t want to read? That’s okay.

Ad to a website of spoken content that the average surfer might listen to? That’s not okay.

There’s literally no other difference between the two URLs in the ads I submitted. One goes to written content, and one goes to spoken content. The content itself is virtually identical.

If you want to have a policy that means you can’t approve my ads, Google, that’s fine. I’m an anarchist. I’m 100% in support of your right to do that. And I acknowledge your right to be hypocrites, just as I recognize the right of conservatives to discriminate against LGBT people. But just as I’m going to call them out on their ill-considered position, so will I call you out on yours. Just as I’ll blast the hypocritical left for being intolerant, so will I assault the hypocritical Google.

People can say a lot of things about me. “Offensive” is certainly one of those things, and I don’t bother to deny that the average Politically Correct libtard will find me offensive, and so will most of the religious right. I really don’t care. But one thing that people cannot and will never be able to say about me is that I’m a hypocrite.

I suggest you re-evaluate your policies, Google, and the mechanisms by which you apply those policies in tandem with the criteria with which you cherry-pick when to apply those policies. Until then, you are hypocrites, and I am left to conclude, on the grounds that the only difference between the two sites is accessibility, that you merely want to keep the cause of Liberty quiet. Do I think that’s really the case? No. But I can make that case.

Oh, yes, and–since you recorded that call (as did I)–you may be interested to play it back and hear how your employee did threaten me with having both ads pulled if I continued to make a big deal about it. I’m pretty sure that making threats–even those that aren’t violent in nature–is against your policies, isn’t it? Maybe you’d like to apply those policies here. Because I don’t appreciate being threatened, and neither will I allow someone to intimidate me into silence.

That your employee tried to intimidate me into silence, Google, reveals quite a lot about what really happened here. People who are on the side of principles don’t have to intimidate people trying to shut them up. You are so in the moral wrong here, Google, that it’s astounding. Not only do you pick and choose when to apply arbitrary policies, but you also have employees bullying customers and attempting to intimidate them into submission. I don’t know what part of the world your headquarters is in, Google, but here, where I am, attempting to intimidate people into submission is not okay. It’s bullying, actually… You’re like the waiter at a restaurant who said “Yeah, the cook spit in your steak. Sure, I can send your steak back, and I can get the cook to spit in your fries, too.”

If that’s how you treat customers, Google–with intimidation, bullying, and threats to back up your hypocrisy while trying to hide behind your arbitrarily applied principles, then I don’t want to do business with you.

P.S. Enjoy the PR. 😉

A Look At My Father

Taken from Dancing in Hellfire: The Story of a Transgender Woman in Mississippi, this is another little bit I’ve decided to share because it really highlights how shitty some parents can be. It’s interesting to ponder which of my two parents is actually worse, but I think the victory must go to my mother–she did, after all, straight abandon my sister and me and then disappear off the face of the Earth after getting on crystal meth. It’s hard to be a worse parent than that, really. It’s difficult to find passages that can be easily shared because they don’t require context from something that occurred previously, but this one is sectioned off by itself, so it should be okay. Hope you enjoy 😀

A Look At My Father

I would like to say that my father isn’t a bad man, but he is. That’s a difficult thing to say, and a difficult thing to accept, but I must stress the point that this doesn’t really make me love him any less. But I would be lying if I said that he was a good man who simply made some mistakes; that isn’t the case at all. He’s a bad man who has made some good decisions, not a good man who has made some bad decisions.

His own childhood was no walk in the park and was tarnished by my alcoholic and abusive grandfather beating the hell out of my grandmother. My father has not shared a great deal of this with me, primarily because I can imagine what he’s talking about, and also because I’m sure it’s as painful for him as it is for me to bring up memories of my mother’s own abuse at the hands of alcoholics.

My grandparents divorced at some point—Go, grandma!—because my grandmother wouldn’t put up with the abuse. My grandmother is worthy of her own story, because she is an unsung hero of the feminist movement without even trying. In the sixties and seventies, she left her abusive husband to blaze her own path through life, and won the house in the divorce, and she proceeded to work at a college for the rest of her workdays, finally retiring at the age of 67.

True to the family history, my grandmother endured her own screwed up childhood, and was sent away by her mother for undisclosed reasons to live with Uncle Bill and Aunt Edna on their arm. Aunt Edna, it seems, did not like my grandmother very much and was not overly kind to her. What set of circumstances caused Jennifer—I never heard my grandmother refer to her mother as anything other than her first name, which was “Jennifer”—to send my grandmother off to this farm? What internal strength caused my grandmother, in what must have been the 40s, to graduate as the valedictorian of her class in those circumstances? What quiet resolve caused my grandmother to learn the skills necessary to work in the administration section of a college during the 60s? Did my grandmother go to college?

These are questions that I would dearly love to have the answers to, but I’ll never get them; they are not things that my grandmother is keen to discuss. Questions about her past are usually met with short answers, and I can’t blame her for not wanting to talk about it. She lived a difficult life, but she’s also the strongest woman I’ve ever heard of. I would dearly love for her story to be sung, but that’s what makes her so remarkable: she doesn’t want her story to be sung. Her humility and sincerity are matched only by the resolve and strength it must have taken to craft her life as she did at a time when women were “not allowed” to be more than housewives.

On one day of drunken, uproarious rampage, my dad had to hold a gun on my grandfather while my grandmother limped out of the house. While I truly hate that he had to do such a thing in the first place, I’m also jealous, in a way, that he was old enough to do something about it. Because when my mother suffered the abuse beneath Everett’s hands, I was in the second grade and too young and weak to do anything to get in the way.

My father will tell you that he was drafted to Vietnam, but it’s clear from the involved timelines that this clearly isn’t true. This was a fact my sister and I only recently realized, when he brought up the Vietnam War again; since we’re both 80s children, it never occurred to us to wonder whether the timeline of the Vietnam War lined up with my father’s professed timeline, but one day my sister raised the question and said that she wouldn’t be surprised to find out he had never been there.

I thought about it for a moment, and we quickly realized that… No, he had never been in the Vietnam War. We quickly caught him in a lie: either he was actually the oldest between him and his brother (and thus would never have been drafted), or the Vietnam War ended when he was 16. This line of thought led us to uncover a number of lies about his past, and in the little alternate reality he’d crafted around this lie about Vietnam he had to be older than our mother (which was obviously false—it was and always has been common knowledge that mom was 4 to 5 years older), his brother had to also be lying about his age, and they had to have falsified both of our birth records.

He then retconned his story to say that he was in Vietnam during the 80s, during another offensive that we did there, and I have no idea whether that’s true or not—I know that I was unable to find a military record online, and even signed up for one of the paid services that do that, but this doesn’t necessarily mean it didn’t happen. Whether he went to Vietnam or not, he did mislead my sister and me into believing that he’d fought in the Vietnam War, until we knew enough about it to realize that there was no way that he did.

The entire reason my sister and I came to discuss it was out of curiosity why our father, who has several medical problems that are probably quite serious, has not gone to a VA doctor or VA hospital to seek treatment—or even a checkup. He’s nearly in his sixties now, and I don’t believe he’s been to a doctor for a checkup since we stopped running around and buying painkillers together. No, that’s not a typo.

He is a religious man, though it’s hard to tell by looking at his past, which is filled with heavy drug usage, lies, and manipulation. He is somewhat less religious than other members of the family, but this only applies in certain ways, and, generally, he is a WASP as much as any other in my family—he continues to believe that Obama is a Muslim, is more or less openly racist, and is a diehard Republican despite being effectively a ward of the state who benefits substantially from more liberal policies.

However, he and I don’t see eye to eye, and we’ve never really been on the same page. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I’m Bobby Hill to his Hank Hill, but that’s not terribly far off, though we do have some similar interests. He was, after all, the person who introduced me to Fantasy and tabletop roleplaying, which are things that I continue enjoying today. In turn, I introduced him to a particular tenth installment of a wildly popular roleplaying video game, and I’m still happy that I was able to show him to something that he enjoyed so immensely. He must have played through it a dozen times, and he discovered far more secrets than I ever would have.

So there is some kinship between us, even though there are far more differences than similarities, and even though he has done me far more harm than good. He is also still my father, and I still very much love him, despite everything that has happened and everything that has been done. Truth be told, I pity my father, because the traumatic childhood he experience seems to have destroyed him; he left it with the mentality that the world owed him something, whereas I left mine with the feeling that the world owed me something and with the knowledge that, whether it owed or not, it would never give it willingly.

At some point during all of this moving around with mom, and while I was still in kindergarten, mom agreed to allow me to go spend some weekends with dad, which I very much enjoyed doing then. Back then, dad and I got along together pretty well, and we both loved our video games, so we almost always had something to do together.

My grandfather owned all the land in that area. Well, it may be that my Aunt May owned all that land and it passed to my grandfather after her death, and I think this is the case because, as always, there was quite a lot of hostility and a number of new rifts in the family following Aunt May’s death. At any rate, my dad didn’t stay for very long in the trailer in which we’d all lived, and I can’t say that I blame him for that. I’ve lived alone—it sucks. And living alone shortly after your wife took the kids and left… No, I don’t blame him, whatever his reason was for moving.

Luckily, all my concern about which of the Nintendos I was going to leave dad was for nothing, because he didn’t waste any time in buying a new one and replacing the one that was a pain in the ass. He introduced me to Ice Blue Kool-Aid, though, and it immediately became my favorite, because it was pretty good.

One evening mom had to go to a wedding, to act as a bridesmaid or something like that, and I didn’t want to go. Mom took me dad’s, and took Eric and Brandi to to the wedding. As I was playing a video game in the living room, dad lie on the couch and my grandfather sat in his recliner. “Just say the word, John, and I’ll have her taken care of. One shot—bang. All it takes,” my grandfather said, referring to my mother.

“Get up and go to Aunt May’s,” dad immediately said to me. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

I objected, because I didn’t want to leave my stuff, but dad shouted, “Now!” in a tone that I knew better than to argue with. As I walked to Aunt May’s, there was a loud bang—an unmistakable gunshot. I ran the rest of the way to Aunt May’s, terrified; I don’t recall what I told her, but dad sure enough showed up a few minutes later and got me. As we drove to the wedding, he explained that my grandfather had threatened to kill my mom, and then had shot at my dad when my dad tried to get his keys.

This was before my grandfather stopped drinking, and he was thankfully too drunk to aim properly, but there was also no telling what he was going to do. I saw Brandi outside and told her, terrified, “Grandaddy’s going to kill mom!” I was in kindergarten then, so I was six years old, but that’s still before we have it ingrained in us that overreacting in public must be avoided at all costs (for whatever reason). I’d argue that there was plenty for me to react to, though, because my dad took it seriously. And I don’t blame him—my grandfather had already shot at my dad at that point, so even if he hadn’t been taking it totally seriously before that, he certainly was after.


If you liked it, I wish I could say that the full manuscript is available on Amazon, but it isn’t yet. It will be a while before I finish it, I think–probably another month or so. I have someone working on what will hopefully be a pretty awesome cover, though. But you may be interested in buying my short story from Amazon, or in checking me out at GoFundMe. Or Liking the post, subscribing, sharing, all that good stuff. lol. This sort of thing at the end of posts is starting to take a rather long time.

Thanks for your support! It means a lot. I’ve already experienced a few emotional throes that I couldn’t readily explain, so the hormones are starting to do their thing. It will take a while to do their thing, of course.

Oh! Be sure to check out www.ebuyer.com as well, because I’ve been asked to guest write an article for them. The article will be delivered via eCard for Valentine’s Day, so I’m hoping that will boost some exposure, and I’m honored to have been asked.