Wikipedia, and how I don’t want an article, ever.

I’m interested in subverting Human systems. It’s fun for me.

My usernames on Wikipedia are TheBattleAngel and icze4r.

Over the course of the last 27 days, I’ve figured out how to generate a Wikipedia article for myself. It doesn’t particularly matter if it stayed up long enough: I figured out how to do it so that I would get all the necessary data to generate a Google Knowledge Panel for myself, and then, I would get Verified on Google. Easy peasy.

However, I decided against it. Why?

Because I don’t fucking want Humans to ever write about me again.

Do not fucking write a Wikipedia article on me. Ever.


The Why of It.

You, the person reading this, are probably okay. I don’t know you, but one day, who knows?

This is what I think about people.

A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals, and you know it.

I’ve always believed in the wisdom of that part of the movie. But, I’ve had a hard time separating ‘people’ from the people in power. Throughout my entire life, I’ve been disparaged, denigrated, and demonized, for one fictitious reason or another. And, I’m tired of it. Getting a Wikipedia article written on me, would only accelerate that process, and make it even worse.

Lots of people want to be remembered.

I have no such desire. Nothing on this planet means much to me. You might not know who I am, but that never mattered. Being remembered doesn’t have any particular objective value, and I do not desire it. I only desired to explore the ‘perks’ of fame— things that I was denied, while actual evil fuckers got to play wif them. I hate it.

You may not have heard of me. That’s a blessing. Because, 7 years ago, the media in the entire Western world decided to write the dumbest series of attack everything on me. I was on pretty much every three-letter broadcast network’s news, and they did everything they could to come as close to defaming me as possible.

That’s the thing about suddenly getting ‘famous’: you’re considered a ‘limited use’ public figure. And they did use me. They lied as much as they could, without getting caught. And, for whatever reason— probably because I didn’t want fame, at the time, and didn’t even try to capitalize on it— nothing they did ever quite stuck. I’d hope it was because I was innocent, and just trying to help. But I don’t know.

I’m not even scared of it happening again. You know what the thing about this all, is?

I’m just fucking sad that it happened. I had this dream of getting famous, and having a supportive community again, like in Arcadium. But all I’ve ever really gotten is shit.

I don’t like getting attacked, en masse, by a bunch of Human beings. It makes me feel bad. And even though I know I did what was right— I protected people from being bullied, and stopped people from sending death and rape threats— I’m not going to do anything like write a Wikipedia article about myself. Because it’s just going to invite more people to write stupid shit about me.

It was a fun experiment, and one where I got to know the people who write Wikipedia. They’re genuinely alright. For once in my life, they were very nice to me. There are a few bad eggs, but they’re outnumbered by the good people. It’s kind of like Arcadium, really.

The thing is, Wikipedia’s idea(l) of having biographies, doesn’t really mesh with what’s moral, nor good, nor ‘right’. It’s the first step to a World Archive— something like Star Trek’s “Memory Alpha”— but it’s flawed. It’s flawed in a way where it can never be as good as it should be, until you have actual professionals who are collating said information. But it’s something.

The other thing is— Human beings haven’t quite advanced to the point where they’ve realized that fame is deleterious to the average person’s mental health. If I had had a Wikipedia page made about me, during the height of the Western media defaming me? All that shit they threw at me, would be there. And I would be sad, and angry.

For a little while, pursuing fame was fun. And while I could continue pursuing fame, and continue getting what I want— because, let’s face it: the only reason I’m not Verified on Google right now is because I chose not to vandalize Wikipedia. I would’ve gotten away with it. It’s incredibly easy to just choose a few sources and write whatever you want. The userbase, esp. the people with power, think that it’s impossible to fabricate anything. And, they’re wrong. It’s so incredibly easy that I’m still finding shit from 2006 that was just plain made up.

In any case, I’m choosing to stop pursuing fame.

Because I don’t want to talk to, nor deal with any of these people anymore.

As an Aside: Journalists are genuinely scumbags. I’ve talked to them for over 30 years, now, and I have to tell you that I trust lawyers more. At the very least, in consultation, a lawyer has to be forthright with you. A journalist is just there to use you. They’re not even good for stopping atrocities: there are still kids in concentration camps, at America’s border. It doesn’t matter who writes about it: no one has any power to stop it, least of all ‘journalists’.


I’m stopping because this isn’t fun anymore.

It’s not because I can’t get what I want. I want to make that perfectly clear. The system is so broken that it is comically easy to pretend to be a celebrity, should you want to. Many have done it before, and they all have virtually unassailable Wikipedia pages. I even reported some of the ones that got paid to edit Wikipedia. Nobody did shit.

The two things you need, to get on Wikipedia, to get Verified, et cetera, are a friend who works in the journalism ‘industry’, and an ego. You can get anyone to write anything you want, all about you. You can even pay them to make ‘reliable’ sources, to festoon your Wikipedia page wif. It’s all been done before. It’s all so very tiresome, droll, and stupid.

Mainly I’m stopping because I do not want to engage with Humanity in this way, ever again. I was once interested in all the various little ‘quirks’ and ‘eccentricities’ to Human behavior. To quote Hannibal, “I was curious to see what would happen.”

I am no longer curious.

They just fucking write about your penis.

I have had three scholarly articles written, about my penis. About its existence. About my potential gender.

I’m not curious about Human behavior anymore. Those kinds of people can stay the fuck away from me.

I’m also not interested in being accused of being a serial killer ever again. Not because I’m particularly worried— as untrustworthy as Human law enforcement is, and with as many innocent black people as they do away with, for whatever reason, I don’t fear that. Instead, what I’m trying to avoid are more hurt feelings, because,

I had a lady write something about me that implied I was a serial killer who specialized in trans people.

It did nothing to me. It only made her look a fool, and she quickly removed it, when I contacted her about it. But, pursuing fame would only invite more of that stupid bullshit into my life.


What it’s like to be demonized.

Overnight, I went from somebody with a bunch of Twitter followers, to somebody every journalist in a specific clique was calling a ‘terrorist.’ My Parents’ house got SWATted.

No matter what the journalists tried, no damage was ever done, and none of the labels they attached to me ever stuck. It reminds me of when I caught a sexual abuser who was hurting people in the My Little Pony community, and that abuser turned right around and started calling me ‘rapist’— that accusation went nowhere, as it should have. But, again, I know what happens when Humans think you’re ‘famous’.

If they like you, they heap that praise.

If they don’t like you, you might just wake up one day, like me, and find that a bunch of shit has been made up about you, by people that the public ostensibly ‘trusts’. (I mean, not really. They’re journalists.)

Since I didn’t give a shit about fame at the time it was happening, I didn’t really ever write down everything as it was happening. Mainly, I was just having fun. I could eidetically reconstruct everything that happened, but I have a feeling it would just depress me.

Three scholarly research articles about my penis.

Never again.


I’m not dealing with Humanity like this, again.

And while I don’t really mind it— it’s hilarious, in a terribly disappointing way— my ‘adventure’ through ‘Humanity’ has been heartbreaking.

I’ve been observing Human behavior for 2-3 decades now, and I’m not seeing anything different. The pattern is always the same: large groups of people who think they have power, try to come and hurt me, and they fail. There is no ‘fame’. There is only Human ‘regard’. There is only what people think of you, and most people are dumb, dangerous, panicky animals. I’m not getting in the middle of them again. I’d survive it, but of course. But I’d feel bad afterwards.

So, please— don’t write about me. Don’t refer to me. When you write about me, you’re only referencing the image you see through the lens of your own mind. You’re only illustrating me with everything that you are, and that has so little to do with me as to be kind of disgusting. What you think about a person is never going to match who I actually am.

I don’t want fame anymore. But I’m not going to just stop talking.

This is my Internet, too.

But please— no autographs. The idea of being written about by a Human makes me wanna puke.

You do not have any permission to write a Wikipedia page on me.

If you do, I will fucking scream so loud that the sky will split asunder.