Rant #3,208: Broke Down Piece of Man

Yes, I am still exiled to Facebook jail, and will be there for the next few days into early next week.

That is not going to stop me from saying what I want to say, as I consider this an abridgement of my free speech.

I do not see how talking about my deceased mother, and the aftermath of her passing, is upsetting Facebook’s “cybersecurity” rules, but I have been banned from posting in the sites I run because they feel that it does.

I feel that with highly political, racist and anti-Semitic posts abounding on Facebook—and without any stops to those posts imposed by Facebook—that they are going after the wrong person, but I guess if it makes them feel good, like they are proving to the world that they are doing something in the way of policing themselves by putting me in Facebook jail for what I have written, then so be it.

It is laughable, to be honest with you.

But onto more pressing matters …

Yesterday, I threw out more garbage from the house, and later in the day, I contacted someone who buys comic books.

It is something that is so painful for me to do, but I have to sell the remaining couple of hundred comic books that I have.

I really don’t have much of a choice.

As regular readers of this Blog know, I sold the most expensive comics that I had over two sales several years ago, so what is left is a collection of mainly 1960s and 1970s issues, maybe not the most pricey in the world of comic books, but certainly a really good collection, one that defined my growing up years from about 1962 to 1976 or so.

(And yes, it does still include that infamous issue that I have included at the top of this column, which today, is about as laughable for its misguidedness way back when as me being in Facebook jail today.)

It pains me to get rid of them, because it is as if I am selling away a major part of my childhood, but I guess the time has come to do just that, as my childhood has been over for decades, and my family and I might be moving into a new phase of our adult lives in the coning months.

I got a lot of pleasure out of my comic book collection—I taught myself how to read through them—and I will never forget my collection, but it is time to move on from it, so now is the time to sell them, lock, stock and barrel.

It really upsets me to do this, but as I said, the time has come.

The next order of business is to get into the attic and see what is in there.

This is problematic, to say the least.

We do not have an attic that you can just walk into—I found that out a number of years ago when I just about put my foot through the ceiling of our house when I tried to walk around in it—and its proximity is a major negative point of even getting into this part of the house.

For whatever reason, the only entrance to the attic is in my son’s room, through an opening in the ceiling of his closet.

There is no dropdown stairs, no way to get into the attic other than using a ladder to move away the slat and putting yourself through that closure.

Yesterday, I tried to do this by piling plastic chairs one on top of the other, but it still did not put me in any position to move that slat and get into that part of the house.

So today, I will use a ladder to prop myself up and get in there.

There isn’t much in there, based on its impossible placement in the house, but I seem to remember that a number of years ago, I did place two or three boxes in the attic, and I am simply wondering what is in those boxes.

I seem to feel that my school yearbooks—junior high school, high school, and college—are in one of those boxes, so without going crazy about it, I hope to get those boxes down, even if I am wrong about what might be in them and they contain nothing but junk.

So that is where we stand with the house right now.

Funny, you can live in a house for decades, but there are still mysteries about it waiting to be discovered, and I believe that the attic is the biggest misery … err … mystery in the house right now, maybe the only one left.

And then next week, all of this becomes real, not a mystery, and the house officially goes up tor sale.

That will be even a sadder day than the day I sell my comic book collection, I can tell you that for sure.