When One Door Closes Another One Opens

When One Door Closes Another One Opens

Putting the ‘Next’ in NextDoor

Do you get that queazy feeling when you get disciplined, restricted, or even ejected from a social media site? Welcome to a new addition all the other things the modern mind has to contend with while navigating the era of trying to survive things such as COVID and sorting through endless propaganda provided by government experts, perceptions from CDC, and community standards from kids who got lucky on the internet.

I was recently removed by the right, honorable NextDoor! For those of you not aware, NextDoor is a rather mundane social media contraption that purports to be well . . . Next Door. It’s business model is a family place for lost dogs and things about the neighborhood that may be of interest to those looking to connect with others in the ‘hood who are as bored as they are.

You will find endless pleas to help find lost dogs, plumbers, and there’s one lady who imports Bar B Q from Utah in the hope of converting people to Mormonism during the house parties she gives to anyone who is hungry enough to have her over. What you won’t find is any real opinions because NextDoor has moderators!

If you thought Facebook Fact Checkers were bad enough just wait until you come across a NextDoor Moderator! At least while the Facebook Po Po pretend to compare posts with known or semi-known facts the NextDoor version has no such restrictions. Of course the site has rules. Keep it clean, keep it respectful and most of all keep it local! When a moderator descends upon you the last one is the preferred weapon of choice.

First we must decide what the definition of local is. Is it state? Maybe county, or town. Perhaps it implies the neighborhood. That would be logical seeing a lost dog would not warrant an Amber Alert, or an alert coinciding with whatever breed or color the dog is. I find it interesting that very few lost cats find their wanted poster on NextDoor. For my situation I believe it concerns only those who are literally next door!

Let me introduce myself. I am Wilbur, aka Weird Wilbur, aka Bill the Butcher. I’m a writer, composer, and film producer coming out of Austin, Texas, but I have a home in Killeen, Texas and having grown up there, I’m about as local as it gets. Matter of fact, my writing style stems from, and is based on my Central Texas background. But . . . I am a writer with a worldwide following so I tend to draw comparisons and facts from a large pool.

I had no problem until recently with anything I put up on the site. Being a publisher, NextDoor is of absolutely no value to me. Consequently I put very few posts there. Now a little dog did come to my door once and I put a post with a picture up causing a very nice young lady to come to my house to pick up her puppy. Other than that NextDoor was as useless to me as those things on a boar hog!

However just recently I developed a Newsletter. Weren’t anything special. Started out as a plaything. Then I added layer upon layers, compartmentalizing until it looked like a newspaper filled with things —-> I <—- like to read! I found that the basics were, well, basic, and changed very little. All I had to do each morning was update the date, weather, and a couple things. I had contributors who’s parts automatically updated, keeping the site pumping and jumping. It began with a morning benediction by my partner, Vic to start the day with a little bit of Jesus, and a feed from various news services. Of course there was a section on myself, and alerts on what movies and records we produced. My Newsletter broke every one of NextDoor’s Community Standards. I was informed that such an abomination could not be on the Newsfeed because NextDoor was, as I have pointed out, LOCAL!

Soooooo . . . I formed a group. The way I understood groups was that they had to have a common interest. I had a common interest. ME! Thirty-one people signed up, I put up some movie posters, some of our songs, and the NewsLetter lasted about, oh, about an hour!

The moderator or moderators who were disturbed by my group are all anonymous so there is no recourse. I appealed and got a nice “Dear John” letter. Then I decided to fight but I thought Why am I doing this to myself? When they disabled my account I clicked a link I still had where I’d sent it to a member, and it worked! The Newsletter was still there, still updating and the members were still sharing!

So, my little Bar B Q cooking moderator only succeeded in twisting my nose a bit as she showed her . . . power on her block, and she now has to live with this article. Let Omniscient Recipientes Certiorem!

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