News of the suspension of my Twitter accounts @fuelgrannie and @QueensStomp gassed up the Twittersphere yesterday, prompting not only the name fuelgrannie to trend (continuing into today, even) but also sprouted a new parody alt, the slyly monikered @fueIgrannie (“the ‘L’ is ~*secretly*~ an upper case ‘i,’ bruh!!!”), a peppery complement to the already existing saliferous parody @gruelfannie.
Relief and delight upzoned the spirits of density bros and their few fellow avocadgals: fuelimination got uninformed boyfriends talking, created bright revelry in a dark Omicron world and hatched Fuelkanda forever as a tender memorial to the demise of my presence on Twitter.
Memes about worshipping at the church of fuelgrannie just might go to my head and the curious support of folks who hate me and had blocked me years ago is coconut-pecan icing on a German chocolate cake.
Yimbys are understandably concerned about the social media censoring of sarcasm: after all, salty, spicy, sarcastic takes stack on top of each other as vertebrae to form the spine of yimby engagement: if my unwell, homophobic, whack job racist self can get banned for irony, well, then maybe we are all at risk for such consequences.
We’re all fuelgrannie now.
(Or is it fuelgrandchildren?)
But more yimbys than not still decry the whole “defend fuelgrannie” thing, with the more savvy ones obscuring my name so to discourage any topic trending; the most important result for them is that I have been banned and I need to stay off and away and silent. They had tried once before to permanently shut me up and hopefully this time it will ackshually stick.
Yet I’m not really silent, at present, not like I was the last time around. I wasn’t blogging much in 2019 and my name certainly never trended back then. I’ve had more traffic on this particular site in the past 48 hours than I had for most of last year and my relevance on Twitter oddly persists, despite the fact that my account is hidden and I am unable to engage.
So I’m not really gone, am I?
I mean, you’re reading me right now, aren’t you?
Fuelkanda forever, baby.