Tuesday, July 29, 2025

Help Help, I'm here in Greenland -- and FaceBook hates me!

 

Help Help, I'm here in Greenland -- and FaceBook hates me!

     Don't ever travel to a foreign country and then forget your freaking passwords!  You will end up in Google jail, Blogger jail and FaceBook jail -- and they will never let you out!

     Greenland is beautiful.  And the people here are super-nice (even nicer than Canadians -- and that's saying a lot.)  "Denmark used to treat us like exploited colonies," said a really nice Inuit lady," but since Trump offered to adopt us, Denmark seems to have elevated Greenland from the status of lowly step-child colony with exploitable minerals to almost a real province."

      Greenland is fantastically beautiful -- like Iceland, only bigger.  I love Greenland!  If you liked Iceland, you will love Greenland too.  Probably if you're used to living at Mar-a-Lago, Nuuk might not hold much windshield appeal -- and the winter nights are really long here too.  But the scenery is to die for -- and did I already mention that the people here are also super-nice?

       Really nice -- unlike Google, FaceBook and Blogger, all of whom think I'm some sleazy hacker Nigerian Prince out to destroy civilization as we know it.  No!  I'm not!  I simply forgot my password.  "Then we'll send you a code on your phone," they tell me.  Sorry about that but my sweet little flip phone doesn't get messages here in Greenland.  And the code that FascBook sent me to my Yahoo account didn't work.  Plus I'm a techno-dunce.  HELP!!!  I'm so screwed.

       Now I keep getting messages from Google that they will gladly turn me back on IN A MONTH.  I might be dead by then.  Or at least senile.  And FaceBook and Blogger want nothing at all to do with me for the rest of my life.  What else can I do?!?  How am I gonna post photos of me planting the American flag here in Greenland (holding it upside down, the universal sign of distress -- because, yeah, America is totally stressed out.  Economically, morally and Constitutionally).

      But I keep telling myself to get a freaking grip.  "At least I'm not in Gaza."  At least I'm alive, I've got food and am not being bombed.  Yet.

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