Tall men “make short roasties’ holes quiver with the thought of eradicating short men” and other insights from Twitter’s Daily Blackpill

@ stacey

As you like outfits this may interest you. We’ve got a Facebook group where people try to recreate famous artworks using only materials they have at home. Some of the outfits people have managed to cobble together are amazing. Some people are just so good it’s genuinely difficult to tell which is the original and which is the homage at first blush.

Although I also like the daft spoof ones.

Here if you want to check it out.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/224247218846890/

I guess anything mammoth related is by definition on topic here.

Yet more mammoth bones found at that site in Mexico!

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/may/22/mexico-city-mammoth-bones-found

We hunted the mammoth; to extinction by the looks of it.

@Naglfar – The R.O.U.S. comment made me smile! Haven’t seen Princess Bride for ages.

@Stacey – Haven’t seen you in a while, welcome back!

Alas, my name isn’t Becky, but the resemblance is there: skinny white woman with glasses and a ponytail. (Although I don’t have super long legs and a flat stomach as their Becky seems to.) 🙂

But there’s another depressing thing about incels in the most recent post. I’ll check it out, although it’ll probably make me angry. :/

There are two living people on earth who share my deadname. My present first-last combo is unique in the world

@Ohlmann

Thank you for the informations. Damn, it seems there is a lot of meaning for the “fag” term, then. Maybe it is another way to defend yourself when you are called out for a slur “No, i was meaning [insert here less insulting variant of the word]”

That’s prettu much why they started using that terminology, yeah.

@Songs about short men
The one that first springs to my mind is Marty Robbins’ Mr. Shorty:
https://youtube.com/4bE6K6_u4DA

@Naglfar
All people with my surname have ancestry from a specific, known location and have only spread to a limited number of places since then, all of which are either in the US or Canada or known to me personally. Further, neither of my first names was ever common even in their native milieus, and those milieus are not the same as the origin of my surname. So, basically, the particular first and last name I was born with pretty much only coexist in the branch of my family that produced me and the rest of the people with that name.

Even just the commenters here show how awfully wrong creepy incels are in thinking all women want only tall guys. Of our WHTM group here I read more who aren’t like me in preferences than who are. Maybe just maybe it’s because we’re human and human vary…wow, what a concept, incels?!

@Paireon

WTF does “Roastie” mean?

Short for roast beef, it’s incel-speak for what they think a non-virgin vagina looks like, and by extension refers to any woman who they deem to be non-virginal or promiscuous.

Well, folks, I think I might be well and truly circling the drain now. A bunch of things have happened in the past week or so, plus some ongoing trends, that are combining to make my life both increasingly difficult to live and decreasingly worth living. What will actually get me first I don’t know, but it will probably be either COVID, exhaustion or some similar thing, or even starvation.

First, it’s getting more and more difficult to get supplies. I’m finding that the trips into town take a lot out of me lately, to where I feel I can barely stagger the last mile or so home sometimes, especially now that we’re getting some bona fide hot weather here. I think the difficulty is a combination of a few things: I used to rest for a good half-hour-ish between outbound and return legs, but that’s not been possible since the lockdown started; there are only a very few suitable places for shorter (~5min) rests along the way; and possibly changes of some sort in my underlying physical condition, as I slowly get older. The mask I’ve been using should be a nonissue since I found it annoying enough to exert while breathing through it that I’ve been compromising lately, pulling it over my mouth and nose to go into indoor public areas, but pulling it down when outdoor and easily able to stay well away from other people.

I also am running into problems with pack capacity fairly often. It’s a mix of things: I used to typically take two trips a week to the store and infrequently a third to get bulkier frozen stuff, but we’re not supposed to be shopping too often, so that’s dropped to one a week with an occasional second to get frozen stuff; plus no eating out at all anymore increases the frequency with which I need to get frozen stuff.

I worry that I will soon lose the ability to get supplies on foot, and possibly suffer some sort of collapse or other medical episode on one of the trips at some point; and failing that, or if I survive such an episode, be forced to resort to taxis not to starve. The latter would drain my savings and at some point I’d have no way to bring food home at all … bam, starvation. Of course, either landing in hospital or frequent taxi rides will also increase substantially my risk of exposure to COVID, which brings me to:

The COVID situation in my area is becoming alarming. The province of Ontario is losing control of the virus. The active case count had peaked in late April and begun to decline, but starting about a week ago it’s been climbing back up again. Somebody somewhere has seriously fucked up, most likely that piece of shit Ford, and based on my observations this setback will already have extended the time-until-things-return-to-normal by almost a full month, as case counts are back up to where they were in early May now. And that’s if this alarming trend reverses again literally starting tomorrow.

My own region of the province had spent much of mid-May with zero new day-to-day cases reported, and only about four or five active cases in self-isolation. No community spread occurring … again, until a week or so ago. It’s begun slowly ticking up since then, with a new case or two each day. I don’t know how this is happening, but at least one of the retirement homes in my area declared an outbreak yesterday after someone there tested positive. Most likely an asymptomatic carrier isn’t distancing properly and has been infecting people haphazardly for at least two weeks now, with the first of those cases becoming symptomatic about a week ago.

So much for any likelihood of my getting out of this without being infected at some point. If I’m going to be forced to significantly increase my exposure risk (with e.g. taxi rides — 10+ minutes twice a trip in a confined space with a random stranger, and a different random stranger each trip) at the same time the province, and my region of it, lose containment and the virus begins to explode Italy-style, then I’m probably going to get sick, and then I’m fucked, because even if it’s a mild case then I’m supposed to self-quarantine for 14 days, and I’ll run out of food maybe halfway through that period and starve since I’ve no reliable way to have anything delivered to my own doorstep. And of course heaven only knows how my weird constellation of conditions, and medications, will interact with the fucking virus should I get infected, but I doubt any of it improves my chances …

At the same time, it’s looking increasingly like I won’t be missing out on much if my tombstone ends up reading HERE LIES SURPLUS, 1976-2020, CASUALTY OF COVID-19, REST IN PEACE instead of HERE LIES SURPLUS, 1976-2058, DIED PEACEFULLY IN BED OF HEART FAILURE, REST IN PEACE.

Someone or something is now systematically dismantling what passed for my social life. It started about three weeks ago when the screen on my phone started glitching, increasingly often, and the only way to un-glitch it was percussive maintenance. The glitching became more frequent and worse, and eventually the phone succumbed either to its underlying condition or the percussive maintenance.

During a COVID lockdown. So, no taking it to the nearest Staples of Office Depot to be repaired and no shopping for a replacement there either. Someone with a decent-enough-paying job to have decent enough credit to have a credit card could perhaps have ordered a replacement, and perhaps somewhere out there someone else with a broken phone did, but meanwhile I’m stuck with a broken one until and unless the less unreliable of my 2 remaining relatives violates the quarantine rules by traveling to my area to do some arms-length transaction to exchange a replacement for some money. (Law enforcement must hate COVID. Everyone’s doing weird suspicious drug deal like stuff, like leaving objects in fencing and coming back after ten minutes to collect money.) This relative promised to do something on Saturday, last minute postponed it on Friday to Sunday, and then on Saturday to Tuesday, i.e. tomorrow; I give the odds at less than 50/50 he actually shows up.

But it gets way worse. About a week ago, I woke up to find my Facebook account “deactivated”. I hadn’t done anything unusual the previous day, or even recently at all, and had not gotten into any controversies or had any posts removed lately, so either they suddenly considered something nonunusual to have gone from nothing to super-heinous crime, or someone found a way to impersonate me and did something extremely naughty. Naughty enough for them to jump straight to deactivation without any warnings, post removals, or “Facebook jail” type escalating responses first.

The message I saw did not state any reason beyond an extremely vague reference to “community standards”. I had not had any recent complaints about my conduct; not in months, if not longer, and those were individual group admins removing a post infrequently that was innocuous in my view but they didn’t like for whatever reason, not anything involving FB’s own administration.

No specific post of mine was pointed to, quoted, or anything, nor any specific charge specified.

The only recourse offered was to click a “review” button, which wants me to give my login credentials. I use 2FA (which makes this whole situation all the weirder: it seems likely someone impersonated me, but 2FA should have made that impossible), which means it wants me to use the authenticator app on my phone.

You know, the broken one I can’t get repaired or replaced during this fucking lockdown.

I did actually save a set of “one time codes” (also for Google and a couple other things) just in case, but weirdly FB didn’t provide any option to use those as an alternative 2nd factor, even though they are supposed to.

So I have no way to even try to fix the situation at Facebook, no confidence they would reinstate me if I could, and in fact am almost incommunicado now. I have a couple of web forums, including here, and I have email, and that’s basically it. My social life, such as it had been, is over, with no promise of being able to ever get it back.

This is clearly an extreme attack on me, and a deliberately and cruelly targeted one. I have no idea how to identify the perpetrator, or even where to begin with investigating this. I have no idea how to fix this or even if it can be fixed. I’m pretty sure I have the moral right to this being fixed, but I would be surprised if FB had any legal obligations at all to speak of, the way giant corporations are mollycoddled these days.

So, basically, this is the end. Even if my flagging endurance somehow holds up, and I find some way to continue getting supplies, and I somehow dodge the COVID bullet in the middle of all of that, I can never know friendship again; my dismally low and decreasing-year-by-year chances of ever having a romantic relationship have flatlined outright; I can’t so much as share news snippets or random observations with the people I know/knew; I might hear from a relative or two once in a while by email and maybe even will regain the ability to phone or be phoned by them, but I’ll never actually go out to dinner with them or anything again, since the lockdown here will never end, since Ford fucked up; and I certainly no longer have any way of meeting actually new people, in addition to being cut off from basically everyone I ever knew before. All because of a) some asshole either impersonating me or massing a sockpuppet army to “report”-bomb some post of mine; b) Doug Fucking Ford; c) a system that never afforded me the “normal” opportunities to do much of anything, work, socialize, or even cheaply transport my ass around my town; d) a faceless, unaccountable monopolist that doesn’t give a shit and isn’t legally forced to pretend that it does; and e) whoever sabotaged my phone, though this is almost certainly the same asshole who attacked my Facebook access, since how else would they have known when to time that attack for maximum disruption, seeing as how only three people in the world know my phone is out of action, him, me, and that relative?

I am not even going to bother to ask for suggestions. It’s pretty obvious that I’m completely and totally screwed, and besides, doing so just seems to annoy everyone anyway. I’m just posting this so if I disappear in another week or a month or two, you’ll know why.

Glug, glug.

@Surplus

If you’re having difficulties traveling to the store, is it possible to look into having groceries delivered? I imagine that even if your town lacked the option before the crisis, it should have come up now.

Is it because you do not have a credit card that you can’t order groceries online to be delivered? I know you’ve posted that you do not trust credit cards before, but if it’s an option between that and starvation, isn’t the credit card a better option? You could even get a prepaid one, if you’re heading difficulties overcoming the anxiety of having the card stolen.

Some phone repair centers are doing curbside drop off, maybe check the websites of your town and see if any of them have some options for fixing your phone?

In terms of Facebook, while you’re waiting for your account to be restored, you could make a new account and re-add your friends, with a “hi, I’m having some technical problems with my old account, please contact me with this one!” explanation or something.

And finally, a lot of what you’re posting is exposing a really worrying mindset and I highly recommend looking into some mental health services or helplines.

Last time I checked, prepaid credit cards have steep extra fees associated with them that I could ill afford. It’s too late even so, since I’m pretty sure all the banks in town are closed to in-person business (aside from maybe the ATMs) for the foreseeable future, and of course to order something online requires a credit card.

Meanwhile, not addressed is the question of why almost everyone’s instinct seems to be to shun me. Do you know of a single other person anywhere whose isolation is as extreme as what I’ve described, short of someone who retreated to some mountaintop somewhere by choice, or else was sentenced to solitary confinement by some judicial system somewhere?

I assume it’s not normal for FB accounts that have had normal usage patterns and activity for 10+ years to be abruptly closed without so much as a word of explanation let alone escalating warnings and lesser sanctions first? That too fits a general and pervasive pattern of hostility to my having any kind of social life at all. Apparently I am now to be denied even an online one, by decree of God-knows-who. It’s another reason everyone here shouldn’t expect me to be around much longer. Most likely I’ll be blocked from here soon, too, either by some mysterious “tech malfunction” or even by unprovoked use of David’s banhammer. If neither happens, it would be a violation of the pattern of recent events.

The weird thing is, it’s not a universal or uniform thing. Once in a while I’ve had someone who seemed completely unaffected and liked, or at least didn’t mind, communicating with me. But of the rest, some so strongly feel that I should never be communicated with that they will even take action to obstruct someone else from freely doing so. It will be some such person who caused the Facebook block. And I know that such people are present here too, because a few months ago someone (I forget who) actually suggested out loud here that I ought to be locked up. I don’t recall what it was in response to, but I certainly hadn’t done the one thing that could conceivably warrant such a response, which would be “engaged in homicidal ideation”.

In the past few years the family members who have retained some contact with me out of a sense of obligation have pared that down steadily until I hardly ever see any of them except one … the one who is now systematically and repeatedly failing me in my hour of need, natch. My mother was the only family member to appear immune to this thing, and she’s been gone for about ten years now. I can see the day getting closer and closer when I am completely and totally isolated.

The desire to avoid communicating with me present among the rest has always been quite remarkable, to the point that even when people specifically want something from me, they have generally avoided telling me so. By the end of childhood I’d lost count of the times that someone had, apparently, spent a good 20 minutes or more furiously thinking at me to do something, or sometimes to stop doing something, without uttering a word about it out loud, getting more and more frustrated when I naturally did not respond to their unspoken request, until they’d eventually just explode like a pressure cooker with a faulty valve. Most likely I’d have responded positively to a politely-worded request but no, in my case they refuse to be seen speaking to me so telepathy it was … which, of course, didn’t work. The weirdest variant of this was the Doorway Explosion. Everything seems normal enough until some group with me in it went through a doorway somewhere and then out of nowhere half the people in it are mad at me out of the blue, yelling and screaming typically about some incident that happened half an hour ago without anyone having particularly remarked upon it at the time. What the fuck? They must have expected some additional response to it on my part, but failed to actually communicate that expectation, until it was too late to rectify whatever-it-was as we had left the place. And then of course it’s somehow all my fault that someone else failed to communicate adequately their expectations of me …

I’d also be sometimes banned from something or ejected from something with, if any explanation at all, a claim that I’d done something that in some cases I’d definitely not even done and in other cases nobody had complained about it to my face, or in any way communicated that it was against the rules or anything. The general rule was: a) if an argument ever developed between me and more or less anybody else, then it was all my fault, b) if something happened that someone didn’t like and I had had nothing whatsoever to do with it, then it was still all my fault at least 30-40% of the time, and c) if nothing had happened at all that seemed noteworthy, and everything seemed normal with everyone going on with business as usual and no signs of ruffled feathers anywhere, then something was still all my fault around 10% of the time, after a completely random time-delay since I got there.

Presumably, in case a) I was sometimes actually in the wrong back then, and the rest of the time and in case b) I was scapegoated because I was seen as a safe target for scapegoating, or even a desirable one — whatever had happened, regardless of who the evidence said was actually responsible, furnished a handy excuse to get rid of me, on behalf of whatever subset of the people there quietly harbored an active hatred of me (and again, there’s always at least one of these active haters). As for case c), the obvious supposition would be a frame-job by one of the active haters, though the lack of my getting any sort of warnings of admonishments about “my” actions before things escalated to more serious sanctions is odd.

That kind of lunacy mostly stopped at the end of my childhood, but obviously the cause of it is still out there stalking me, or I would still be able to log into Facebook normally, now wouldn’t I? Apparently, the “nothing at all noteworthy” case can have a time delay of approximately twelve entire years sometimes.

The pattern did remain that I’d be sided against in pretty much any controversy. Indeed I wonder to what extent the extreme shift to the political right the whole fucking world seems to be undergoing is because that’s the other side from mine. It seems the more politically aware I got, the more the world has tilted to the right wing even as I tilted further left. Coincidence? Or cause and effect? I will note this much: the rightward shift dates back at least to Reagan’s 1980 election, and many consider Jimmy Carter to have started a rightward shift in the Democratic Party. I was born right about the time Carter was elected, and although you wouldn’t have found me articulating a position for either side in the 1980 election, you would have found me holding a firm moral compass and in favor of things like fairness and sharing over double-standards and hoarding … even if that was hoarding toys on the playground and rigging the rules of some hopscotch game to disfavor certain players (and, of course, “no girls allowed!”, which always baffled me — why exclude people you haven’t even gotten to know yet?).

The message of the past few weeks is very clear, though: I’m no longer welcome in most of human society. I don’t know why. I don’t know what they think I’ve done this time. I do know no harm or slight was intended, and I don’t think those who have in shadowy rooms made this decision would believe me, or would care even if they did believe me. But the decision itself is starkly obvious from the events that have transpired: the phone breaking down, then FB abruptly cutting me off without explanation, and now a pervasive and systematic pattern of obstruction to my only viable option for replacing the phone. The virus and lockdowns must have furnished the perfect opportunity to put an end to what faint shadow of a social life I had. I am just surprised that whoever is orchestrating this waited as long as they did, instead of striking in mid-March right after Ontario first locked down. Perhaps it took that long to arrange for the sabotage of my phone? That would have been a trickier thing to arrange than the rest of it. A word in the right (i.e., an instinctive active-hater’s) ear at Facebook’s moderation team and my account there goes poof. A word in the right ear somewhere else and deliveries of phone hardware into my area keep getting “misrouted”, or whatever, much like the hijacked PPE shipments that have resulted from Trump’s tug-of-war with blue state governors. But getting at my existing phone required physical access to my apartment, an opportunity when the phone was left unattended and I was outside (during a lockdown!), and so forth.

The real headscratcher is why they didn’t instead just get Bell to terminate my service? That was the single point of failure: strike there, and no more phone, no more Facebook, and during a lockdown, no more anything else at all. Hell, no more TV, even. The only thing I can figure is, since phone service is considered essential, and even internet these days, Bell had an immovable policy not to cut off those services for any other reason than nonpayment, and during the lockdown not even for that (which I’m sure those behind this could easily fake — it’s just numbers in a computer somewhere, and computers can be hacked, or people convinced to input false data).

Of course, they could be working on that even as I speak. If I disappear and it’s not because somehow David was convinced I deserved banning, it’s likely because “they” convinced Bell of that instead. If that happens, I won’t be coming back. During the lockdowns and with no phone or internet there’s no way I’d be able to sign up with Rogers or another of their competitors, and doing so would presumably only postpone the inevitable anyway. I will be permanently cut off from all human contact at that point, which will leave me with only one option that doesn’t amount to enduring perhaps as much as 40+ years of torture.

I’d ask you to promise that some one among you would then hunt down the bastards who did this to me and make them pay, and remove their capability to ever do it to anyone else, but then there are no bastards who did this to me, are there? This isn’t a conspiracy like you see in the movies. This is something structural. People dislike me, especially in meatspace. They dislike talking to me in meatspace so much they’ll stew for 20, 30, 40 minutes until they explode in frustration rather than make a simple, clear and understandable verbal request of me that I’d probably say yes to. A great many of them dislike me sufficiently strongly that after I come to their attention in any way, shape, or form, they will proactively do things to sabotage me or bring about, by manipulation or force, my exclusion from any spaces they inhabit. And it’s not a conspiracy when it’s a broad societal consensus. It’s simply policy.

As for why this is so, I really don’t know. I actually find it difficult to hold grudges or to wish harm on others, even those who have wronged me, for longer than a few minutes after an incident of being harmed. I don’t tend toward maliciousness. As someone with an ASD diagnoses, I do sometimes inadvertently offend, usually through omission of some bit of politeness, and will try to avoid future such omissions when one has been pointed out. The general things that would make such a policy of pervasive mostly-low-grade hostility rational, and even perhaps deserved, are absent in my case (and those in whom they are present, the psychopaths and other dark-triad types, seem to be, if anything, lavished upon by society). The ASD furnishes no clues: other people with such diagnoses do not seem to come in for the pervasive and systematic ostracism that I have endured, and that is now apparently escalating yet again. The only logical explanation is that I’m setting off some kind of “uncanny valley” effect, about which I can likely do nothing — and certainly not if no-one will ever be willing to actually communicate what it is they find off-putting. The people willing to proactively associate with me, rather than at-best tolerating my presence and affording the bare minimum of interaction necessary to not be open to an accusation of rudeness, are the very people who do not perceive the thing in question and consequently cannot tell me anything useful. Either they don’t see it at all, or they see it but consider it unremarkable.

Perhaps it’s like misophonia: some people get a perception off me that irritates, and in some cases eventually induces an irrational anger that can result in proactively hostile behavior directed toward the perceived source. It can’t be that, though. Whatever this is, a majority seem to perceive it, and the trigger is something much rarer than typical misophonia triggers. And again, it is detectable even over text-oriented online media somehow, which a sound wave would not be. It’s a higher level thing, detected at a higher cognitive level. Perhaps it’s a sort of “misolexia”: something that ought to be innocuous in the words someone speaks or writes, rather than just in a sound wave, but triggering the same sort of reactions. It would explain a great deal. The only things I’ve ever done that have gotten widespread positive reactions (rather than only from that narrow slice of people I’ve met who have proven they are immune to my anti-charms) have been works of a visual nature: drawings and such. Wordless. “Misolexia” would neatly explain this observation, and another: that the people who react negatively to me will not, or cannot, apparently teach me not to irritate them, and couldn’t even in my childhood. If they can’t themselves describe what it is then they can’t very well describe to me what I should be doing differently. They’d just feel a grating irritation any time I talked, or they read something that I had written (regardless of its attribution), and not be able to find any specific thing in the words themselves to fault, because it is something subtle in the gestalt that they are reacting to, subtle patterns of word choice or order or whatever. It’s in the unused entropy “between” the actual semantic content. And, unable to explain their irritation but equally unable to deny feeling it, they’d react to something more superficial, never the real underlying cause, if not deliberately finding an excuse then confabulating something unwittingly. So on the occasions I did get a specific explanation or accusation, it would be false, or it would be not-actually-wrong, and regardless, avoiding doing it in the future would not prevent future incidents.

If this is really what it is then … I really don’t know what to do about it. Again it’s obviously too late to salvage my own life. If other people are triggering “misolexia” I have no advice to offer them as to how to not do so, or even if they can. I can ask if anyone here had always felt some sort of negative thing whenever reading comments by me, even when it was the very first time they did and the comment in question was objectively innocuous, and if so what exactly is irritating them, but they probably cannot really answer that question anyway: either it’s not something they can put into words, or they’ll attribute the irritation to some incidental feature of the comment-instance they’re looking at, but that won’t be the cause, as comments by me without that incidental feature would nonetheless be causing them to feel the same way. And of course it would be further clouded by them developing a negative association with my name over time, an anti-halo effect. This anti-halo effect would explain why there is always an escalation over time, and eventually someone dislikes me strongly enough to actively subvert the rules and norms of the venue if necessary to have me excluded from it. I’m like an allergen: unlike a virus, quite harmless, yet provoking an unconscious immune-like response that works to exclude or quarantine me away from the host organism. Sentient parts of the host organism will participate without correctly understanding their own actions, and will if confronted either refuse to answer out of their own confusion and cognitive dissonance, or will confabulate an explanation for their actions, but that explanation will be disproved because even if the “allergen” promptly ceases doing the specific thing cited as allegedly irritating, the irritation will persist so long as the “allergen” is present.

So … the conclusion is unchanged. I’m fucked. Not only will I never be able to experience anything close to a normal social life, the host is getting increasingly sensitized with every passing year. Now I can’t make phone calls or use Facebook. Soon I won’t have Internet or be welcome anywhere in meatspace … and three weeks after that I’ll be dead, since I won’t be able to obtain food once that threshold is crossed. Unless I get arraigned on specious charges and tossed in solitary instead, of course. Then it’s decades of torture, but three square meals a day. And that isn’t especially unlikely. Someone here thought I ought to be locked up once. All it takes is for a cop to think the same thing, and to find a crown attorney and 12 jurors who feel the same way strongly enough to be willing to overlook or bend rules to get the verdict they want. And all my life I’ve run afoul of people willing to overlook or bend rules to get rid of me. Frankly, it’s a wonder it hasn’t happened already, but once it does, it won’t be much longer before the prison guards find an excuse to put me in “the hole”, and then that’s that.

So there is one thing I have to make sure of: that when they do come for me — and they will, even if I just sit at home most of the time and make occasional grocery runs while never so much as shoplifting or hurting a fly — they don’t take me alive. Better to die on the spot than spend decades in the hole slowly withering away, I think.

And until then … well, I don’t really know what to do. Keep myself entertained, I suppose, for however long I have left. It’s all that has been left to me, at this point. And, of course, be ready with some way to end it when they pull the plug on my internet, or start breaking in the door. I should probably grab a bottle of sleeping pills the next time I’m at the pharmacy, to stash in a cool, dry cupboard corner until that day.

@Surplus

You could try googling prepaid credit cards to see if they were something that you might be able to use, instead of immediately assuming the suggestion was worthless. I don’t know what your budget is, but usually the activation fees and annual fees aren’t that much.

Also, I’m pretty sure that part of the reason why the infection rates are going up in Ontario is because there has been some opening of businesses. As of a week ago, retail stores have been allowed to partially open. I think it’s a damn fool idea, but since it’s happened, you might have a store open near you that can provide you with a prepaid credit card or help fix your phone. https://www.ontario.ca/page/reopening-ontario-stages

As for why people shun you? Well, if you treat them the same way that you treat me whenever I try to offer suggestions, then I think I have a pretty good idea why people don’t want to interact with you.

Yeah, yeah, I know that doesn’t explain why you got banned on Facebook or why the power keeps going out or why your prescriptions have had problems or why all those things are definitely things that have only ever affected you, personally, specifically in order to cause you pain, and are never issues that anyone else has ever had to deal with in their lives.

Honestly, I do hope that you get help. I hope that your situation improves. I hope that you can pull through this. But the one form of assistance I can offer, suggestions on how to try to tackle some of your problems, is clearly unwelcome, and every goddamn time I try, I only get berated for not being able to magically fix all your problems at the press of a button. I should have learned my lesson by now, really. I can’t help you further. You need to look for assistance elsewhere.

There are some online crisis chat options. This is one that I could find.
https://edmonton.cmha.ca/programs-services/online-crisis-chat/

There are also online options for placing phone calls, though even I find those websites sketchy, so you’ll probably hate them even more. It might be an option for you to call ahead to a place to check if they can do phone repairs or other services you need, though. Less of an opportunity cost than 2 hours of labor, maybe?

If a prepaid card is unacceptable, you could consider a regular credit card or a visa debit card, as those can also order things online. You can also buy Visa gift cards and put them into a PayPal account. Though I’m sure you have a reason for not getting those, either. I would think the risks involved in at least one of those four options would be considered lesser than starving, but that’s just me.