blogger interrupted

I long ago moved on from Meet The Bloggers, a project which I created with George Nemeth.  The posts now missing from my blog detailed how as soon as George sniffed money might head from venture capital toward MTB, he decided to remove me from a project whose value was created largely by my own heavy lifting.  I detailed how the project then predictably died for lack of competence.  And I detailed how others felt no qualms about feeding from the carcass, namely Scott Piepho, another post which is now gone.

Now George seems to be planning to resuscitate MTB’s corpse.  Whether or not deleting posts from someone else’s blog is part of that, who knows.  The good news is that I’m well beyond giving a flying fuck about whatever George Nemeth ever does with his life, or with the project he decided unilaterally I would never have anything to do with.  I know, and so does everyone else the least bit interested in MTB, that however George and his sycophants decide to revive it, it will go nowhere.   For two reasons.

First, George is incompetent, and so is everyone else who remains involved in MTB.  And second, because karma is a bitch.

George had my Wordpress password, because I once trusted George that much.  And George knows that I can’t prove he simply logged in, deleted what he wanted to, and walked off having committed a felony to erase further any evidence of my role in MTB.  It’s hard to prove that someone you once trusted with the keys to your property just walked in and took it.  So George is probably as smug as a bug in a rug right now.

Why would George do such a thing?  Being a perpetual grant whore is plenty of reason to abuse someone’s trust in order to get rid of embarrassing posts on someone else’s blog.  Cleveland’s a small town, though, getting smaller, thanks to phonies like George who will stop at nothing to get a grant application all nice and tidy and free of messy things like what a puke you are.  This town breeds George Nemeths like dog shit at the bottom of a garbage can breeds maggots.

Problem is, they all talk.

And now instead of talking about those messy inconvenient blog posts, now those grant makers will be talking about how a few measly blog posts freaked George Nemeth out so much he may have committed a felony to get rid of them, all while he was a self-proclaimed “social media strategist” at a fancy shmancy web marketing firm.  My, how those philanthropic boards will busy body themselves over that!  Who needs proof, when it reeks to high heaven already without it?   George knows those boards never bother themselves with facts, anyway.

As for me, well….it’s clear that even after I’ve moved on from my past, which I have, episodes will pop up, out of nowhere, to remind me just how fucked up it all was.  Emphasis on past tense.  I ignore most of these episodes, but some really hit me hard.  Especially when it involves total betrayal of trust.  Yeah, I should have changed all my passwords before yesterday, yeah, I should probably watch my back a little better.  Good news is I’m beginning to let my guard down, because the worst is over.

But it’s all OK.  Because George Nemeth has made his name for himself, and that shit sticks.  Erasing a blog post here and there ain’t gonna change that.  Maybe I’ll run into George again at a bar in Tremont, or some of his…ahem….”friends”….and we’ll have a little discussion.  But I doubt it.  It’s not worth the exhale of my breath.

However, my last bit of advice to anyone who ever thinks of dealing with this lowlife is the following.

Don’t ever give George Nemeth your password.  Ever.  No matter how much he says you can trust him.  You’ll be sorry if you do.