Most of my readers (more than six now thanks to Sal’s recent mail-out) think living OTG is a bit ‘out there’ (pun intended) and not the path most commonly traveled by normal people.  And they’d be right.  OTG’ers think a bit differently.  Well, I do, anyway.

I, of course, write trying to convince my allegedly brainwashed audience of the opposite view and that OTG life is actually very normal.  It is the best. By FAR!  Healthy, natural, non-materialistic, sustainable, critter-friendly and beautiful, OTG is better, way better, than the constantly urban-grinding of your spirit to a nub – working so as to never-own your own home or be relieved of oppressive debt. 

Confession: I do think we OTG’ers are closer to having a better lifestyle.  NOT perfect – just better.   But my bias is obvious.  I don’t hide it.  And I am not just a bit obnoxious about it.  Apologies.  Kinda.  I am like the reformed smoker harping on those who have not seen the light and still carry a lighter to prove it.

But, I do understand any resistance you might have to the repeated message to get out, GET OUT NOW!

I was reminded of all this when a friend recently wrote to tell me that modern living is really very nice, having money is a good thing and that he recently traveled back to his home country to see family and friends and that the cost did not deter him because he was relatively well off.  Furthermore, he enjoyed the pubs and the restaurants and even the madding crowds.  “Modern urban life is good!”

Ergo, my message might be wrong.

He’s right.  Of course he’s right.  And I stand somewhat corrected.  I really do.  Urban life can be good.  Of course it can.  It helps that he is somewhat well-off being a lawyer, though.  And, by his own admission, it took awhile to get there (he’s tipping the 70 mark, too).  But NOT everyone living in the concrete jungle lives large or carries sway at the watering hole. Some never get there.  Some never even get to drink.  Some get eaten. It’s a jungle out there and I doubt that he would argue that.

But the debate is NOT really about that.  His lifestyle vs mine.  It’s not about living close to nature versus living close to a gazillion large-screen TVs.  And, anyway, who am I to judge?

Well, I’m Dave.  And I judge.  So sue me.  (And he might!)

No, there’s no debate.  The message really is just about living more freely.  Having choice.  And because urban life is more expensive, living freely or even living simply and cheaply in the city is more difficult there than living in the country.  In a money influenced world, it’s really that simple – you can’t live simple in the city.  Those on a budget have fewer monetary based choices and many urban choices are determined by money.  I would suggest that urban life is not as beautiful or healthy either but some people like traffic, sirens, chandeliers and gold plate.  And they go to the gym.  So, that part is just subjective.

If you boil it down to the essence, this OTG-promoting theme of mine is really just about freedom.  It is about life choices and freely choosing amongst them. It’s about shedding the chains and anchors that are so easily and unconsciously acquired in a consumer society in the form of debt and obligation and, instead, living deliberately (Thoreau) and in the moment. It’s about finding value and meaning and even, perhaps, personal growth in something other than work, status symbols and manufactured loyalties and propagandized philosophies.  And it is about having more time.

Put another way; politics, nationalism, branding, corporation-made mass entertainment and celebrity-worship pales into a misty grey distant fog the further you get away from it. In fact, the larger brain-control concepts such as nationalism and patriotism and other myriad popular crusades become more and more silly and irrelevant the further you get away from the source of those messages.  By shedding the umbilicals and the money-chase, the OTGer tends to lose the fervor, the allegiance, the loyalty to those causes. And when doing so, we take back our energies.  Feels healthier.

I mentioned in the first paragraph ‘alleged brainwashing’.  Alleged because I have no idea if what I am referring to was or is conscious or not.  I don’t even know if it is real or just my perception.  Is brainwashing and mind-control on purpose?  I dunno.  But I kinda feel that I was inoculated and imbued with a pre-set social programming from the get-go.  I was born into it.  I was taught to love Canada, for instance, (like the Chinese are taught to love China or the North Koreans and Russians and Pakistanis are taught to be rah rah, too).

What’s all that in aid of?  More to the point, who’s all that in aid of?

I was taught to value the system that so-called educated me.  I was taught to be thankful for a life-style that was comfortable and modern and better than those other guys in poor countries.  I was taught to be grateful.  And, to a large extent, I am.  But the educational system contributed less than 5% to my knowledge base.  What did it really teach me?  What was I taught and who mostly benefited from that?

In that great-but-subtle programming, I was encouraged to make the most of my life but, to do so in such a way that was measured by a retirement plan, plenty of money and a big house.  I was told to respect and honour my institutions. And work my whole life for them.

Who was served by that?

I was and am told to trust the police. Teachers.  Priests and politicians. Trust the bank. Believe 911.  Believe in modern medicine, science, technology and especially NGOs that save whales and babies. Trust ’em.  Follow their lead.  Why?  Because all those folks are supposed to know better, I guess.

The mantra: I really should follow their lead.  We should all follow their lead. And pay taxes and other homages to them.  Or go to jail.  And I should go to war for them, too.  If they tell me to.

I’m having second thoughts.  They are stronger doubts than before I left.

As it stands for me, all of those pillars of western superiority have been found somewhat wanting as I aged.  They are not pure.  They are NOT always in aid of the right thing. They seem to have lied and cheated a lot.  They are fallible.  Flawed.  And the common people, the animals and the earth itself has suffered at their hands as much as benefited.

I have less faith in the system.  Call me crazy but I have less faith in the system than they want me to have.

Maybe getting out is a good idea.  NOT because ‘being in’ is so bad – not in theory, anyway. But maybe because ‘being in’ has proven to be more than just somewhat flawed in the execution. Maybe ‘in’ ain’t right?  Maybe we should all take a step back and see where this urban-centric, systems-reliant, institution-trusting, debtor-slave lifestyle is taking us.  Maybe there is a better way?

Sal commented on the above blog: “Well written but you’ve said it all before.”

“Aren’t I saying something more?  Something different?”

“Well, you are saying that going to restaurants is okay.  Why would you say that when we have said that it was no longer okay for us.”

“Right!  Why isn’t it okay for us anymore?”

“Well, several reasons.  One; we don’t want to have to work and pay taxes so as to line up to pay too much for processed food in a noisy environment with all the TVs blaring. We hate that…….and two; it’s hard to find enjoyment in something like that when we have fresh oysters on the beach, fresh greens from the garden and we can afford to drink too much wine when we are at home where the food is better and it’s way more fun to entertain friends.  We just think this is way, way better.”

“Didn’t I say that?”

“Nope.  But I just did.”  

When I first blogged, I simply wrote about what I felt at the time or knew something about.  Mostly it was about self-inflicted wounds, lacerations and accidents incurred on our new remote location.  But, as the years wore on, I added everyday observations from our life OTG and some building stories to augment.  Then the garden, Ravens and Whales for added colour.  That melange of topics was relatively well received and, even when I went off the reservation with some political rants, it was at least tolerated – if kept short and infrequent. Mostly tolerated, anyway (US John suffers the most on that score, I think).

I had few readers but I liked ’em. They mostly liked me.  It was all good.  It seems I had settled into an odd writing niche. I was an accident prone, DIY-OTG guy with occasional political opinions.  I was a study of ordinary in an extraordinary place.

Of course, there is way, way more to me than just that. I am a very complicated guy. Plus I have Sal and she is a library of study all by herself.  Together we are a fascinating couple if not just a little odd.  And so our relationship started to creep into the blogs, too. We had lots of grist for the writing mill.

So, why have I recently gone long, flat and dry?

Well, the bloody Russians interrupted the creative flow, that’s fer sure.  But, if there is enough water, nothing will hold back the flood and so I guess there is a drought out here in OTG land.  When that happens (and it has rarely happened), the thing to do is write about what you still feel and know.

I am looking for feelings and facts……and this is what that is……

I am feeling a little old, actually.  NOT decrepit or dying, NOT frail or weak, NOT tiring of life or anything melodramatic….just….well, diminishing appetites describes it best.  I am wanting less, hungering for less, even somewhat less curious.  My travel bug is dying. Of course, with that, comes contentedness, happiness and inner peace…..(blah, blah, blah..) but there is no question that I am now somewhat more concerned that I have fewer concerns.  I am not worried about much.  I am not driven to anything.  I don’t have any burning goals to achieve.

Worse, I look forward to dinner more.  And the wine that goes with it.  This could be a sign…..?

“A sign of what, Dave?”

Well, there is the very slim possibility that I am transitioning again.  I kind of go from phase to phase in my life and maybe the DIY stage is over….?  I doubt that, actually, ’cause that silliness still provides a lot of fun and interest for me.  I like to build simple crap.  It’s still very satisfying.  And, typically, the transition stage follows the frustration-boredom stage and I have not had that at all. Plus I love living OTG.  Still, it feels like the transition stage.  It feels like I am girding up for something different.

“Like what, Dave?”

Not a clue.  Sal and I enjoy writing together (which is a bit odd, actually) and so we will likely embark on a third book.  But THAT is not different, really.  It would be the THIRD book, after all.  The third time at anything is, by definition, not new now is it?

We will be grandparents soon….  Maybe THAT will be different?  It is new.  But, I doubt that that is it, honestly.  It will be new for my son and DIL (daughter-in-law) but we’ve already had kids.  Been there.  Done that.  They are small and pink and ooze goo from every direction……really cute…..you know.…but we are familiar with the phenomena.

So, that is NOT likely it.

One thing is for sure.  The years are going by like months.  This was the shortest summer yet.  Winter looms.  Time flies.  Time zooms.  Time is a blink.  If I have another phase in here somewhere, it better hurry up.  There ain’t much time and….well….I’d hate to be late for dinner.

Trump shocked, offended and outraged us on a virtually daily basis for the first few months of his lunacy..uh….presidency.  It was a continual twitter train-wreck.  The guy was and is a prolific prince of pratfall politics – a shame and a disgrace to his office and an embarrassment to his country.  A spectacle of the worst kind.  I am still repulsed.

But…and it is a BIG BUTT….he is being absorbed into the fabric of normalcy.  He is now much more a part of the normal American picture.  He is no longer as outrageous….at least not on a daily basis.  Trump is playing a leading role in what is fast becoming the new ‘normal’.

If true (and I think it is) that is a comment on all of us. In a way, that is even sicker than Trump himself.

Of course, North Korea and hurricanes help distract.  Chief of Staff Kelly has clearly helped with office discipline. And maybe, just maybe, Trump is running low on stupid, dickhead moves….c’mon…it’s possible…..?  No?  But the real observation here is not that the White House or Trump is likely improving but rather that the news media is apparently showing fatigue.  They obviously can’t keep it up.  If Trump doesn’t shoot someone on Fifth Avenue (as he claims he can) or nuke Kim Jong-un or grab a new pussy, the reading population (a relatively small group in the US, it seems) has started to lose interest.

Or, alternatively, the media itself is losing interest.

Are we just seeing proof of the obvious and well-recognized extremely short (and getting shorter) attention span of the American public or is it something more..?

It could be something worse.  Seems the expert and skilled staff of the Rupert Murdoch-owned Wall Street Journal are leaving in droves.  They can’t stand the ‘soft-on-Trump’ policy invoked by the editor in chief, Baker.   Seems Baker and Murdoch are Trump supporters.   They are softly supporting Trump.  Maybe there is a purge of the newsrooms happening?  Maybe the skilled and expert are simply bored of it?

It could be the slower-than-hoped-for forensic dissection of Trump, his campaign and the Russians involvement in the election.  The left wanted blood and they are not feeling patient. Waiting is hard. But Mueller is taking his time.

Sessions has also shut up.

Paul Ryan is losing support and influence.  John McCain has dialed it back.  Liz Warren is MIA.

The Republican party is ducking for cover.

They are all shifting to ‘getting elected’ mode, maybe?

It might even be the bizarre attraction the NFL has over the gibbering masses and this being week one of the regularly scheduled annual fake contest invented by corporations to entertain us.  Who knows?  Go Hawks!  Make Seattle Great Again!

My view?  I thought you’d never ask…..

Modern life is increasingly virtual.  Digital.  It is not real.  More and more, people are disconnected from what is real, what is really happening in their lives.  We do NOT see how a clown on TV impacts our lives.  Not really.  We do not see how a politician effects us.  We do not see why the president of the United States is more important than a quarterback or a Nascar champion or Kim Kardashian.  News has been blended with entertainment to the point that, if it isn’t fun or shocking, it isn’t worth watching or talking about.  “What else ya got?”  Hurricanes are ‘now‘.  Funny cat you-tubes in a pinch. Trump talkin’ twitter trash…..it’s all grist for the mill….the entertainment mill.

We have all collectively shifted to a fake-cum-virtual life, a wasted one lived at last half-time on Facebook and Twitter.  Life is now a back-lit screen.  Trump knows this.  Hell, even Trudeau knows this.  Things going poorly, Justin?  How about some photo-bombing of a wedding or something?  Maybe you take off your shirt this time?

Major madness, folks.  That is what this is.  Full-onset.  Rapid.  All enveloping.  Watch it unfold on the new made-for-Netflix blockbuster series.

Or…………….get out.  Get out now!

…a magazine recently contacted me to write for them.  But first, they wanted me to submit ‘our story’.  Succinctly.  In only 1200 words.  That seemed like a challenge.  And, I thought, it could be fun. So, I wrote the following (see below). Sadly, their standards are higher than my abilities.  It was not good enough.  And so, like bland leftovers, I offer them up for you……. 

CATALYST FOR A CATHARSIS

“We have to leave money for the house.”

My wife and I were planning the iconic North American holiday. It was 1999. I was 50.  We were suburbanites.  We had recently paid off the house mortgage and were heading off on a four month road-trip across the North American continent and then to Europe with our two young teenagers to mark that aspired-to milestone in our lives. Think: Disney movie but with mutant ninja teenagers.  The sub-plot was to show the kids that there was more to life than work, debt, shopping malls and video games.

“Why leave money? The house is now paid for, the neighbourhood is safe and we aren’t going to be here. What do you mean?”

Sally then proceeded to list off all the obligations we had even when we were not in residence in the cul-de-sac. It included a lot of utilities, insurance and monthly services such as phone, security, cable, heat and light, lawn care, insurance premiums and myriad other parasitic monthly financial drains. It did not include any of the annual fees such as property taxes, income taxes, medical care, nor all those hidden taxes on taxes.

“I figure we have to leave $1,700 a month for each of the four months—$6,800.”

“Sal! That means we have to earn $2,500 each month before taxes to be able to pay $1,700 a month not to live in our house. Does that make any sense? We have to earn $30,000 a year not to be here!  And that’s NOT ALL of it!  That’s insane.”

I was shocked. Gob smacked. It was immediately apparent that I was mostly living to work and working a great deal for largely invisible others.  I was a slave.  Worse, I was basically unhappy in the burbs and previously unconscious as to why.  Now I knew at least part of the reason.  And that was the catalyst for me. All of a sudden, my lifestyle seemed silly.  I felt stupid. I felt trapped.  And I wanted out!

Realization is one thing, action is another. The catharsis, the unraveling of the ties that burdened us, took a bit longer…..but luck was on our side.

Over thirty years prior, beguiled somewhat by the back-to-the-land movement of the seventies, I had borrowed what small amount I could and headed up the west coast of British Columbia, Canada, and bought a small piece of waterfront property so remote and distant that it was affordable.  As it turned out later – in the bracing realization of standing on it in the rain post purchase – I had no real desire for bugs, dirt and hard scrabble and so I promptly put the impetuous acquisition in a file titled Rocks and Christmas Trees and forgot about it. I only visited it a couple of times in three and half decades. At first, I called it Dave’s folly and then, after awhile, I forgot to even think about it.

Until just after the family vacation, that is.

Feeling the increasing need to ‘get out, get out now’, I cast about for ideas and, of course, my remote property required a re-acquaintance. Sal and I went up one weekend to see what it was that youth, serendipity and spontaneity had bequeathed us.

Fifteen acres of remote waterfront miles and hours from anyone else. Trees. Wildlife. Unbelievable natural beauty.

“Oh, my God! This is gorgeous. This is it! I have to live here! Sal, we have to live here!”

“Well, it is all very beautiful but there’s no cabin here. There are very few people and there aren’t any stores. No services.  What are we going to do?”

“We’ll build the cabin ourselves! People have been building cabins since the dawn of time. How hard can it be?”

And, with that enthusiastic expression of profound innocence and ignorance, we immediately began to extricate ourselves from the madding crowd, the Matrix, the rat race and the way of life that clung to us like heavy nets and cobwebs. It took us three years to unplug. And, even at that, that initial effort only put us on a remote beach with a collection of tools and a dozen DIY books explaining how tools and building materials worked. It took three years to leave the city and it would take another three years to somewhat arrive in the wilderness.

Building and learning to live in a remote setting is a huge challenge and one greatly underestimated by us at the time.  We originally thought that ‘the building trades’ were hard work but relatively simple skills to master.  Especially if we kept it simple. We were wrong.  We thought we could do it all by using books and common sense.  And, to be fair, we eventually did do it all but it was just as much by trial and error.  And it took a much longer time than we expected. It was not at all simple. In fact, it was at times almost too hard for us.

Almost.  Sal is the type that just won’t quit.  I carried all the heavy stuff.  Sally carried me.  Partnership is what made it work.

Of course, everyone’s OTG challenges are different.  Some are easier, some are harder.  We were on a remote island.  We were unskilled.  We were financially limited if not restricted.  We were well into middle-age and I had a case of early onset couch potato syndrome.  Our ignorance was abysmal.  Our site is on a 30 degree, moss-covered granite slope.  Water is a half a mile away.  Tools can be dangerous. Building materials are heavy. Moss is like grease in the rain.  Skill-building comes slowly.  Winter comes fast.  Common sense is sometimes hard to discern and is often evident only in retrospect. And camping is usually a full-time affair in itself – and so is building a cabin. We had signed on for very long days of hardship and learning in an unforgiving rainforest and our success and survival, though not overly threatened, was certainly not assured or even all that likely.

The ‘upside’ was the learning, the sense of doing, meeting a challenge and living, as Thoreau put it, deliberately.  We felt alive.  We were engaged in our work.  We were exhausted, over-our-head, deprived, uncomfortable and, at times, overwhelmed but we were growing skills, we were building a home, we were achieving, we were getting healthier and we were surrounded by beauty.  Life was good.  We had bitten off more than we could chew but we were chewing like mad to try and compensate and we were making it.

Looking back, the catalyst was the family trip, the ensuing six-year cathartic process of preparation was the release it was intended to be. Transition is a process.

And we are now more free. We are happier. We are healthier. It was the right change at the right time for us and we are both convinced it was not only the right move but more right than the conventional lifestyle to which we subscribed for fifty plus years prior.

Remember – living off the grid is one thing.  Building a home and systems is quite another.  We unknowingly undertook to do both.  It does not have to be that hard but it was worth it in every way for us.  The cul de sac now looks like a prison from here.  The modern lifestyle is unsatisfying to us and, to be frank, crazy-making.  The challenge turned out to be a great and continuing adventure.  The partnership got even stronger. Life is now healthy, beautiful, deliberate and full of wonder.  We made the right decision for ourselves.  And we recommend it.

The magazine people were fine.  They seemed to like the style, but not the story. They wanted more details.  They wanted more like what their other writers were submitting (one example was a retired couple raising goats for fun and profit) and not so much what I wanted to write about.  So, I made some changes. They made some changes.  I made some more changes and we traded drafts back and forth.  

But then it dawned on….I was trying to ‘make it work’.  I was trying to ‘fit into the system’.  I was working at what had been fun.  The very exercise of trying to be published by a magazine for a mere pittance ($250.00 for 1200 words) was a perfect example of the rat-race, the sell-out, the compromise that keeps on taking.  I had given that up.  And so, with that explanation to them, I withdrew from the project.  And I sensed no sadness on their part.  

Time to spread some pithy words about living sketchy and remote.  A little OTG chatter is a smidge overdue, wouldn’t ya say?  ‘Course, summer and Russian hackers will do that what with all the lazing around, drinking wine and BBQ’ing, eh?  The Russians, that is,   …NOT us. We’ve been workin’.

Bloody Russians!

And don’t get me started on the North Koreans!

Deck extension for removing generator from the shed that was built around it

Rebuilt stairs to new deck extension

So, let’s just start with a simple update:  Lower deck and adjoining bridge complete (it joins the two lower decks). And new guest bathroom up and almost functional.  Still gotta plumb gas and water.  But at least the structure is up.  The newish deck it’s on works well, too.  It looks nice.  So far, it is all going according to plan – if we actually HAD a plan, that is.

Walkway from new deck extension to main lower deck and boat house

Stairs descending from house to mid level deck and down to lower decks – design by M.C. Escher

On-demand hot water heater in the process of being stuck on a wall

“Hey, Sal.  I was just thinking that we had this rough idea about the bathroom, changed it a dozen times on the fly and yet, not once did we figure out where the demand hot water heater was to go.  Now that it is built, where should I put it?”

“I dunno.  Under the boatshed?”

“I am uncomfortable with that because every demand water heater we have had so far (two) burst into flames at some point.  I’d prefer to see the burning appliance immediately rather than just smell it for awhile, ya know?”

“Good point.  So stick it on a wall.”

This little project interfered with our boat reconstruction and so we have a boat torn apart waiting patiently for our efforts to resume the extensive surgery while we pottered about on an outdoor bathroom instead. Because every visitor (but for the two groups of guest-come-latelys in September) has had to do without the deluxe bathroom, I may just throw in the towel on that project and get on down to the boat.  That is getting to be more pressing.

WC and outdoor shower and sink on new side deck

The WC interior complete with bucket and deluxe toilet seat

Guests-come-lately at least get a privacy wall and a bucket.

But then again, the water system could use some work so as to make the freezing days less harrowing.  And some of my much-loved decks are starting to show their age and replacing a few rotten boards will soon become a priority.

And I’ve got a gazillion off-cuts waiting to be turned into birdhouses but…well…that can wait. As can the next garden box even tho I have the materials.  No pressing need for that…

…same for the new woodshed.  BUT there is also some wood to chop….damn….

I really wanted to build an evaporative fridge this summer but, well……………………..

There is so much to be done….so little time….so many guests….too many Russians…..

…what’s a guy to do?

“Dave, what happened to your offthegridhomes.org site?”

“Weird science, man.  Russians.  Theft.  Intrigue.  Confusion.  Panic.  All kinda hell broke loose.”  Here’s the story:

My site was hacked and hijacked back in the spring.  A porn referral site lay across my page.   Peeps couldn’t get in to read the latest nonsense but they saw butts and boobs and all things lascivious.  Some readers wondered what the hell was going on off the grid. Others started looking seriously for land.  I was left confused.  Mildly aroused, but confused.

As it turned out, the temporary hijacking was just part of what the hackers did.  On the face of it, we saw a referral to body parts and unusual positions but there was more. And I did not know that.

My techie friends advised moving from Bluehost to Bluehost.  Yeah, I know, but that kind of logic is typical with techies.  What they MEANT was ‘change accounts’.  Changing accounts would purge the hijackers, they said.  So, I did.  After a week or so, everything seemed OK.

It wasn’t.

The hackers know you are going to do something like that and so they lay in wait for your site to fly over the ether (or something) and then they pounce and snatch it out of the air.  But, quick like Russian bunny on roids, they put the targeted site on THEIR server and provide good service.  Voila.  They have your site and you don’t know they do. You think you are with Bluehost and so you carry on innocently.  Thoughts of porn lost to the past.

“Why would they do this?”

I do not think that a Russian read my blog and said, “Dah!  Is good writing, no?  We take writing and maybe get vodka for it, eh Ivan?”  What they do is employ a robot program to steal sites when it can.  Mine was caught like a fish in a net.  Indiscriminately.  But, instead of letting me go, the robot began to mine the site for personal information. Most sites have been monetized or subscribed to and so many sites have some data worth stealing.  I didn’t monetize or use subscription tools and so mine was worthless but the robot didn’t know.  The robot didn’t care.  The robot kept my site.  I was kidnapped.

Coincidentally, my domain name came due for renewal.  I was not informed.  It expired. So some other dickhead snatched that.  And it was that theft that, when sold to an OTG referral site, lay over the site like the previous porn had done, I was alerted.  I thought it was the same thing.  It was not.  This time the double ruse was revealed.

“How?”

Well, I naturally called Bluehost and they looked.  “I am sorry, sir, we used to host you but you went somewhere else in February.”

“No, I didn’t.  I went out your front door, walked around the block and came in the back door.  Account A went to become Account B.”

“Not by our records.  Lets go see who has it now even if it has been picked up by a vulture.”

“A vulture?”

“Oh yeah.  Vultures lurk in wait for expired domain names.  Any such names will drive traffic.  So, they get ’em.  Quick.  Oh yeah, I see that you are hosted by SpeedyOne.  They are in Amsterdam.  Suspicious.  Oh yeah, they have offices all over the world.  IP addresses everywhere.  This is a hacker server.  You are now in the hands of hackers.  Russians use Amsterdam a lot.  Could be anyone but I suspect Russians.”

“Can I get it back?”

“If you pay the ransom.”

“Nah.  Let ‘er die.”

“Ooohhhh….that’s brutal, man.  Don’t you love your site?”

“Not enough to pay a ransom.  I only have six or seven readers.”

“It says you have upwards of 900 hits a day.”

“They are all Russians and Chinese.  Some Ukrainians now and then.  Probably all robots.  I suspect that are not really interested in me and my ravens?”

“Ravens?”

“Never mind.  Let’s start another blog.  Can I rescue my content?”

“Probably not.  But here’s what you can do.”  And so I did it.  We are now half done.  And we have rescued just about all of it.  Pictures are history, tho.  The site will be similar in the text to the old one.  Not so much visually.  New name, of course. The Russians will still have the original.  I doubt they have much use for it.  But they are in possession of a clone, now.  The new site is the real one. The old site is the Russian’s.