You know how I can't technology? Remember how that's a thing? It's like one of the cornerstones upon which It Just Gets Stranger was built. The other ones are my hair, interpretive dancing, and Tami's wig collection.
Well, you must understand that my inability to technology has hardly been exaggerated over the years. Not that I've ever exaggerated anything else on Stranger. Of course.
I'm reminded of a time in 2008 when, while surrounded by roommates whose patience should earn them a Tony, I asked after receiving a very simple explanation about how the Internet works, "so tell me this: what's the difference between Yahoo and the Internet?"
Please do note that Stranger was born in 2007, four or five months before, what-is-commonly-now-called, "the Yahoo incident" occurred.
It is truly a miracle that Stranger ever got off the ground in the first place. I actually think that several thousand years from now when civilization is reading their Bible based off of our people, Stranger's origins may be included as one of the Old Testament miracle stories. It will go right after the part where my right ear somehow stayed attached to my head despite Cathie holding me off of the ground by it for seven consecutive years beginning in 1990. And right before the part where I got a girlfriend in Moscow in 2009 despite having worms and looking like a British lesbian Presbyterian in the 90s.
So no small feat stood before me when, four months ago, I suddenly declared that I was finally going to start a podcast.
Let me be clear. I need everyone's attention. Eyes on the teacher. I'll wait.
I, Eli Whittlemordor McCann, completely and absolutely underestimated how complicated starting and maintaining a podcast would be.
I truly thought it would be like this: record some stuff. Put it on the Internet. Binge watch Netflix shows Cathie can't find out I watch. Amen.
But actually it's more like this:
Solve for U.
I'm not kidding you.
Had I known how difficult this would all be, I don't know that I would have ever attempted it. It's time-consuming enough to find good stories, wander the world to record them, learn how to use recording equipment that is so intimidating that TSA has literally stopped me four times now because they thought I was transporting bombs, organize hours worth of interviews, become comfortable with sound editing software, AND maintain a friendship with Jolyn so she doesn't abandon me for a life of absolutely anything else because that would be less frustrating than navigating through all of this with the man about whom you read above.
Yes. All of that is complicated enough. But the real thorn in the side of my dwindling competence? Everything that is supposed to happen after the episode is finally edited. That is: the part having to do with the Internet.
You know. That thing that is apparently somehow different than Yahoo.
You guys. I have had to find out stuff about the Internet in the last few months that they should only make prisoners learn as a form of punishment.
The magic is gone for me. I used to think the Internet was supported by fairies and magic dust. But it's not you guys. It's made up of this bull s%$#:
If that picture didn't just make you start crying, well then I seriously question whether or not you're even American. Or, from whatever country you claim.
I DON'T BELIEVE YOU ARE FROM ANYWHERE!
Making Strangerville available on the Internets has been a turbulent journey. And so when Jolyn called me yesterday to inform me that, once again, an episode of Strangerville disappeared from iTunes, I nearly entered the witness protection program just to escape this nightmare.
After informing Jolyn of my inability to go on, she talked me off the ledge, studied the entire Internet, and found a solution to our problems that was somehow simultaneously so complicated that you have to have an advanced degree just to read about it yet so beautifully simple that a hipster could turn it into the showpiece at an art gallery that you've probably never even heard of.
I'll spare you the details, in part because I don't totally understand them, but also because I've already made you look at a calculus equation, html code (whatever that is!), and a picture of a 90s British Presbyterian lesbian.
The point is, I think at long last Strangerville is properly running in all of the proper places. Which is great. Because we have more awesome content coming your way. And in the meantime, I'm begging you like a man without pride despite his exceptional hair, to download, subscribe, review, listen, etc. to this week's episode, which you can find at this link.
And do us a further solid; share Strangerville with others. I know I sound like a broken record here. But I'm like a Paul Simon broken record that you don't mind hearing over and over again.
Finally, a promise. If you all listen to and share Strangerville, I promise to give you more pictures of Presbyterian lesbian for your future blackmailing use.
Here's a teaser, in case you think I don't have more than one:
~It Just Gets Stranger