Slightly Off the Mark: July 2025

Abandoning Social Media. Well, Some Social Media

Okay, so here's the deal: I'm on too much social media.

Welcome to just about everyone's life.

My theory going in was that, in addition to keeping track of friends and family, I could use the internet to promote my books. For those of you who haven't heard, I write books. In fear of losing out on a sale, I'd try new social media sites without abandoning the old ones.

I mean, I got rid of Friendster--let's not get silly. I even, many years after I should have, stopped using MySpace. Remember MySpace? I think I got up to 17 followers.

I still have a Tumbler account. Well, I think, hold on.

There it is, 44 followers. I started it in, oh, 1928; a couple of people liked a post of mine in 1954. On the other hand, I joined Substack a couple of years ago: Without really trying I have 273 followers already, and 36 subscribers. (There's a difference.)

The internet, like any other living thing, evolves.

I'm trying to put more time into writing and book promotion, and that means putting less time into other things. So, some places where some of you may see me, you soon may not.

For instance, I have two Twitter accounts, which (like everything on this list) seemed like a good idea at the time. One is my main account, and the second is dedicated to the Storm Chaser book series. Regardless of how you feel about Twit--I mean, X, it doesn't make sense to promote twelve books on one account, then have another where I promote four of them again.

Also, I like to have a little fun on social media, and I can't do that if I'm constantly dashing from site to site.

Something similar happened on Facebook. I have my main account, and an author page, and I also run a page for the Albion Volunteer Fire Department. Then I have one for my book Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department. One book. "It seemed like a good idea at the time" is my middle name.

Then there are Facebook Groups. You can find an interest and get addicted, especially me. Marx Johnny West Collection action figures? Check. Military toys from our childhood? Another check. Most of my childhood toys were military related, and nostalgia runs strong in this one.

My childhood Thompson, just like Sergeants Rock and Fury carried.

What do I want to do when I see these childhood toys I loved and lost? Replace them. But I can't afford that, don't have a place to display them, and don't have time for online shopping. It's time for some of my FB groups to go.

Whether you're a writer or not, it's dangerous to spread yourself too thin over the internet. No, I'm not slashing and burning--I still like to keep track of family, friends, and fellow authors. I'm just tightening my belt a little.

Isn't that worth it, to make the internet a little bit less about pulling your hair out?

For now you can still find me and/or our books here:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@mark.r..hunter

Remember: Even if you totally forgot you had a Tumblr account, it's still there.

Funny Money Fax for Fast Cash

We received a very nice fax at work one day (remember the fax?), from Mrs. Nazek Audi Hariri. I’m sure you’ve heard of her husband, Rafik Baha al-din Hariri. Or at least, it’s possible you once raised a din while driving your Audi in Baha.

Mrs. Audi Hariri offered to give us 20% of 36 million dollars.

I thought to myself, “Well, we’re all getting raises this year!

It seems her husband, a respected businessman and politician in Lebanon, was killed in an explosion on Valentines Day. Tragic, right? Afterward, Mrs. Hariri was contacted by a European security firm, which held a trunk that belonged to her husband – a trunk containing the aforementioned three dozen million bucks, all in cash. This no doubt cushioned the lady’s grief, and provided a nice little Valentine gift.

Apparently the money came from business associates, and was meant to for Mr. Hariri’s next election campaign. I’m guessing the campaign finance laws work a little differently in Lebanon.

This is believed to be the spare bathroom toilet for Rafik Baha al-din Hariri, but since the explosion demolished it we can't be certain; there's nothing to go on.

20%, amounts to, um, let me do some quick math … seven million bucks. Give or take--at that point do a few hundred more bucks really matter? I could buy a lot of ramen noodles with a seven and six ones.

Here’s where things get a bit fuzzy: The reason Mrs. Hairy sent this fax is because a person receiving it, identified by her as “you”, is one of her husband’s business partners. But the fax came to my work, and anyone working there who had enough money to contribute toward a multi-million dollar campaign fund would NOT be working there.

Mrs. Heshe explained it all in this clear and concise sentence:

“The part of services the diplomat is required to render is to assist you in claiming the consignments from the terminal of the security company and to set up a transit domiciliary account in your name in one of the prime bank he has contacts to carry out the exercise through the back door.”

Oh. Well, when you put it that way, it all makes sense.

I checked into the story. There really was a Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, who really was killed in an explosion, and he really was estimated to be worth billions. Which is like millions, only more. He even has a son named Baha:

“What are you going to name your son?”

“Baha.”

“Well, what happens in California stays in California. Where are you vacationing next year?”

“Saadeddine.”

“Oh boy.”

For some reason, people who want to send you lots of money never want to end up in a courthouse.

I called Mrs. Hibijibi's contact person, a diplomat in London named Mark Johnson. “I’d like to help with the Audi Hariri Funny Honey Money Fund,” I told him.

“You would?” I couldn’t figure out why he was so surprised. After all, 20% of 36 million is so much money I’ll never have to do math again.

“I sure do. I mean, the poor lady’s so oppressed that she has to go through the back door! If this keeps up, they’ll take her names away, one by one. First she won’t have an Audi, then she won’t be Hariri any more, and next thing you know she’ll never get to go to Baha again.”

“Ah, yes …” He seemed a little uncertain about whether I was for real – after all, people do crazy things for money. “Well, with this much cash flow involved, you must understand that certain guarantees will be needed, certain, ah, capital assistance to provide for the transference of funds.”

“I live in the capital of Noble County. Does that help?”

“What I’m saying is, a certain amount of financial incentive on your part will be needed to assist in the transference of cash into your account.”

“Are you saying I need to send you money in order to get money? So in return for services, you need a financial contribution?”

“Well … yes.”

“So you’re like the federal government?”

“Um –“

“Look, here’s the thing. Mrs. Hihickey obviously needs our help, so what if you bring the money over yourself? It just so happens that we have a place near my job where you can stay while we get this all sorted out. You’ll get a nice bed, three square meals a day, entertainment, and even people who’ll stay with you and help you acclimate into our society.”

“Really? Where would that be?”

“The Noble County Jail. Now, if you’ll just give me your –“

That’s when Mr. Mark Johnson hung up, and he wouldn’t answer my return calls. Honestly, I’m beginning to suspect he wasn’t on the level.

You can send us 30 million dollars--or more likely less--to buy our books here: