I’m here because she asked

I don’t believe that I’ve ever felt the need to explain myself and, at the request of Persephone, I’ve created this site.

I still don’t particularly like it. I’m not sure what I will do with this page then, book reviews maybe? Probably not, if I’m honest, not that I don’t like books. Maybe I should start with why Persephone asked me to start a WordPress page? The reason might become clear as to why a person with no interest in blogging would start a blog page.

You see, Persephone came here in her usual open and maybe somewhat overly trusting way. She started a blog and made friends, some of whom she believed were good and decent people.

She was mistaken.

Some of these people decided that they wanted to have fun, hacked her page, stole some private photos, and then they then tried to blackmail Persephone.

Now if they had known Persephone the way that anyone who has spent anytime with her has, they would have known the response they were about to get. Her not-so-eloquently written, and most certaintly rage filled reply of, “Fuck you, you piece of shit. I’m not doing fucking anything you say.”

Persephone has done many things I’m proud of, and some things even she’s even not proud of, but that was one of the more impressively powerful ones. Even faced with damaging images of herself being disseminated publicly, she chose her dignity and refused to capitulate. I was very proud and slightly worried for her. It was around this point her blackmailer courteously informed us that he had not publicly posted the pictures, but had instead decided to send them to my work colleagues.

A nice touch, I have to admit. What better way could there be for an ill-educated and cowardly little degenerate to try and punish a woman for daring to have agency? Enough agency to refuse to give her power and dignity up to a sad little man hiding behind a keyboard.

Now, I was a little pissed, I have to admit. Not so much about the photos being sent to my colleagues, this was able to be sorted out in somewhat short order and in mostly confidential manner (you may be surprised how disturbed and disgusted people are likely to be when you do these things in this day and age). What really pissed me off was that, people that Persephone had trusted, specifically the one she especially trusted, had done this to her. This is what really pissed me off.

It took me some time but, with the help of the IT department at work (I did say people won’t stand for these things anymore), and a little unscrupulous digging of my own, I have a reasonable idea of who these two miscreants are.

Now, my good people, you have to understand I’m not Persephone. I’m not as well written, nor as freely-giving with my friendship. I’ll likely never write poetry and, most certainly, I’m not going to let things go.

I’m not satisfied with a public naming and shaming. No, I want these people to feel the dread Persephone felt. I want these people to suffer, like she did, the anxiety first before the hammer comes down.

So now I have a blog (at her request) to vent my feelings. So let the healing begin.

The first sad little man I intend to deal with lives in Brisbane, and I have questions for him.

  • Does your wife know what you did?
  • Do you think you will get to hide in your community, pretending to be a respectable artist?

You won’t, I promise you that, because I won’t dox you Sunshine, I’ll hang posters around your neighborhood where your family, friends and neighbors can see. I’ll turn up to any form of public event you attend and call you out for the things you’ve done.

You’re a sad little piece of filth, and I’m going to drag you kicking and screaming into the light. Every shady thing you’ve done is coming home to roost. And don’t worry, I’ll build my scaffold with nails not bolts.

So enjoy your day. I’ll see you soon.