Maybe I'm not the one to be upset over this. When I was editor and publisher of Tabard Inn: Tales of Questionable Taste, I went against everyone's advice. Rather than get a PO box for submissions, I decided to list my home address instead. My reasoning was, who the fuck would want to come after me? And if anyone did? I could handle that shit pretty easily. I didn't expect quite so many stalkers. In the end they were harmless, but it's a little unsettling, especially if it's your first stalker. That surprised me. And a lot of submissions came from prisoners across the country. I was OK with that. Most were in for life, anyway. One guy would be dead long before his sentence was up, even if he lived to be 120 years old. Still, I'm pretty sure my grandparents didn't like the idea of so many murderers knowing where I lived. (Fun fact: I published one of those murderers. It was a good story.)
But I got a letter in the mail on Saturday. It was addressed to Gramps, and it had an IMAGE OF MY FUCKING HOUSE ON THE ENVELOPE. That's the picture above. I thought, what the fuck is this guy selling? I had to know. Gramps wouldn't object to me opening his mail, as he's been dead for years. I suspected it was spam, anyway. This is an image from the actual letter itself:
It turns out that it was a sales pitch for home insurance, and to drive the point home these fuckin' clowns put an image of my house in the letter. Note the disclaimer. This was an image taken from public records, which I can only assume means Google Maps. They further state that no one has actually come out to visit my house.
That is fucking well not reassuring. Why in the unholy name of fuck would they do this? What purpose does it serve? It's goddam creepy, is what it is. Kind of like checking Google Maps so you can look through the windows of houses, hoping to catch someone naked.
And yeah, sure, public records. I get it. Anyone can access those. Got it. But just because something is legal doesn't mean it's the right thing to do.
This is more goddam fuckery that I can just do without.
I wish we had James SA Corey back when I printed my home address in my own literary magazine. Ty Franck is half of that author, and after the bio explains where the other half lives, his part says that he will let you know where he lives if and when he wants you to come over. That would have been a good attitude for me to have back then.
You might doubt my wisdom in sharing those images. Never fear, every house in this area looks like that. Someone would have to go door to door to find me, and in a neighborhood where soliciting is prohibited, something like that would not go unnoticed. That car out front isn't even mine. Never was.
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