Actually, I got this response to about 90 percent of the stuff I submitted.

I also got this asshole every time a post was incredibly pretentious and self-centered:

Also, as this is an incredibly narcissistic post unto itself, I put what little text there was through the analyzer and got DFW again. Gross.

SOPA died today, but it’s not gone.  Its name will change and the offending provisions that caused Wednesday’s events will be tacked onto another bill. The rumors are that it will be added as a provision to The Protecting Children From Internet Pornography Act of 2011. And even if it doesn’t get added to that bill, it will be thrown in to another bill.

Meanwhile, PIPA has been delayed.

And though Wednesday’s blackout, protests and voter outcry was incredibly successful, the fight is not over. Not even a little bit.

It’s imperative that we stay active.

Why?

Because of me.

You don't want to see me when I'm cranky.

Look, odds are if you’re reading this site you either know me or like my work. Well, I make my living off the Internet. And if half of the entertainment and parody sites are pulled from Internet, many MANY people like myself will be out of a job. In the middle of a very long and very arduous recession.

Do you remember what happened when the tech bubble burst in 2001? Before 9/11? Well, the economy was pretty good then. If any of these bills pass, the likelihood of another massive round of layoffs in my industry is incredibly high if not an absolute certainty. And it won’t just be the editors, the producers, the writers and the designers. Anyone who is making money from the Internet will be affected. And this time we won’t be able to sell our stuff on eBay to make ends meet because chances are… it’s been shut down too.

And what happens if I get laid off? I lose my place. I lose my health insurance. I ask if I can crash on your couch for awhile… with my dog. Also, I might bring my own couch since I couldn’t sell it on Craiglist as that, too, has been blocked. I hope that’s not a problem — me on my couch with my dog in your house. (In my defense, it’s a very cute couch and a very cute dog.)

Also, I might be kind of depressed as I’ll be out of work and have no feasible means to express my rage and frustration (as blogs will be inaccessible and I can no longer post to Twitter) with what happened. Honestly, the best case scenario is that I start a Journal of Sadness (working title) to document my spiral downward. I might read parts out loud to you, a lot, as it will be my only way to get feedback.

And this is going to happen for quite awhile as the job market will be flooded with people who have very similar resumes and skill sets that match my own… thus making the likelihood of me finding more — if any — work as certain as finding a bag of unmarked bills on the street.  So I’ll probably be in my pajamas for most of the day, because there isn’t much sense in getting out of them if I’m just going to sleep all the time and watch reruns of Dr. Who while eating instant soup. On my couch. With my dog. In your place.

I probably won’t be able to get part-time work either because it will pay less than unemployment, and I’ll end up losing money. Also? No one wants to hire someone with 13 years experience writing, editing, producing and managing websites to sell clothes at the mall because they know damn well that I’ll walk out some day if I get another “real” job.

So eventually my funk will become your funk. We’ll have a falling out and I’ll move on to the next house… or maybe just the street. And then I’ll die. And then you’ll feel bad for kicking me out, even if you thought that “tough love” approach would finally get me to get my shit together. Funny thing? It was together, I just lost my sole source of revenue.

And, look, neither of us wants this to happen. I don’t want to live with you; you don’t want me to live with you. I respect our relationship and would like to keep it positive and fun.

Which is why I implore you to take action against Internet censorship legislation, if only to save what we have.

Taking a stand for free speech is important, but keeping me employed will have a direct impact on your life.

What You Can Actually Do That Will Make A Difference:

Call your congressperson on the phone. Let them know that you will not support them if he or she supports bills that will have the same SOPA and PIPA legislation tacked on as amendments. Calling is important because it takes more time than an Internet petition and is harder to ignore. Plus if you’re courteous and respectful and speak your points properly, they can’t hang up on you. Ask for the person who deals with legislative issues. Speak with them directly and ask for their name, title and phone number. Tell them you will be following up to see what your representative has to say. Follow-through if you want, but the mere threat of being an organized nuisance will get your message across to the right people.

Read sites like Lifehacker and Mashable for updates on what’s happening with the tabled legislation. I’ll be posting more things, but eventually they’ll all look like a blur — especially if you got to this from my Facebook post. Listen, if you get your information from proper nerds with editing skills (while subsequently keeping them employed by giving them more traffic and thus KEEPING THEM OUT OF MY JOB MARKET), it’ll be easier to understand what is a fact and what has been misconstrued or otherwise taken out of context when the next round of these bills are introduced. (If you’re getting your news from a group that is owned by a company that makes and/or distributes TV and film, odds are the parent company has lobbied extensively to get this legislation written and will attempt to get it passed again. And because of this, the news will not do as thorough a job in reporting on this next fight as it is not in the parent company’s best interests.)

I’m not saying the Internet is perfect. It’s often gross and awful. But it’s how I make my living. If we start regulating it to placate the distribution needs of the MPAA, many MANY people will lose their jobs — possibly me. And if things start falling, your life will be affected significantly more than that day you couldn’t access Wikipedia.

In the interest of open source content and activism, I have written this blog as a scare piece that any of you could use to get your point across — especially to friends and family members that live in areas (ahem, New York and California) who still have Senators and Representatives in favor of these tabled bills. Just swap out the pics and it’s all yours to post, repost, or otherwise share!! Why? Because I care more about keeping my industry functioning than I do about another byline. And I love bylines more than ANYTHING (except my dog because he’s perfect). 

Last night, two of my friends found a teeny tiny long-haired chihuahua puppy on their block in Hollywood.

He needs a good home… maybe yours?

He may also be part Mogwai.

If you or any of your friends that live in the Los Angles area are looking to adopt an abandoned puppy and save a life (while simultaneously making yours so very much better), please reach out to Jodie (JJ) or Alden for more details.

He's the smaller of the two.

My cousin Melanie got married in secret ceremony at a very pretty library in St. Paul, Minnesota on New Year’s Eve.

Pretty damn clever, kids.

Glad I bought the first round WHEN I SAW YOU LAST WEEK AND YOU DIDN’T SAY A THING.

I want a safe drive to my parents’ house and back — I want this more than anything else in the whole world. I have written too many horrifying stories regarding the 5 in winter when I wrote about news in Los Angeles  for me not to be nervous… AND everyone has said that the passes are absolutely scary and not to be taken lightly. (I guess this is the price I pay for not having a season called “fire.”)

I want to love Sonoma County for everything that makes it wonderful. I want to hike, run and enjoy the California sunshine. I’d like to see the ocean when it is cold and angry, eat comical amounts of crab and, obviously, indulge in the local wines.

I want my friends’ wedding to be amazing and gorgeous…  and I want to look damn good in the dresses I bought for the occasion.

I want Oliver to have a good couple weeks with his grandparents. That’s a lie. I want him to have a GREAT couple weeks with his grandparents.

I want my time in the office to be fantastic, fruitful and filled with cheer.

But really, as I mull over highways and weather patterns and other possible logistical nightmares… I just want to have a very safe and boring ride that is filled with hoarded episodes of “This American Life” and Spotify mixtapes about driving for 10 hours and some change.

(BTW, if you know how to send songs or mixtapes or need to add me to the Spotify, I should be under lizzwestman@gmail.com or through the Facebook.)

I bought a lamp. It’s called a Happy Light. Let the healing begin!!

7:01 p.m. The note says that you need to wait two minutes for the light to really get to the level of brightness achieved.

7:03 p.m. Good God, that’s bright.
7:03 p.m. It’s distracting me and making me anxious.

7:04 p.m. This is like looking into the Sun. A tiny Sun sitting on my desk, burning into my eyeballs.
7:04 p.m. Please make it stop.

7:05 p.m. I turned it off.

I will try it again tomorrow during the daytime. Maybe it won’t be as bright tomorrow. Or as distracting. Seriously, I’m still seeing spots.