| Wikipedia |
wracton@gmail.com
williamacton.legalshieldassociate.com (Legalshield and IDshield subscription information and applying for associate positions)
Digital Identity Research and Pronunciation Teaching
| Wikipedia |
| Wikipedia |
| Wikipedia |
| Wikipedia |
Caveat emptier: This post was drafted with help from an AI assistant (Perplexity)— but ideated and edited extensively by the human, Bill Acton
| Wikipedia |
| Wikipedia |
| Wikipedia |
Lord of dust roads and data lines,
this screen is my new freight train,
and these wires are my new highways.
Help me see the folks behind the pixels—
workers, wanderers, worried mothers,
kids with cheap phones and big troubles—
all trying to make it through
without getting ripped off or run over.
Guard our paychecks from digital robbers,
our IDs from thieves in fancy offices,
our hopes from slick-talking ads
that promise the world and empty our pockets.
Teach me to use this online guitar
to sing the truth about scams and traps,
to pass along warnings like old union songs,
to help my neighbors lock their digital doors
as surely as their front porches.
Let my passwords be as strong
as the calloused hands of a farmhand,
my sharing as careful
as a hobo splitting a loaf with a stranger.
And stamp this on every site I visit,
every post I write,
every message I send:
“This web is your web, this web is my web,
from stolen data to safe encryption.
With your help and holy wisdom,
we’ll guard each other in every nation.”
So I can steward this digital land
like a good neighbor,
not a greedy landlord.
| Wikipedia |
G’day, Lord.
| Wikipedia |
Oh Lord,
AI‑assisted creative work: This litany is an imaginative parody pastiche using generative AI. It imitates the public persona of [Janis Joplin] for commentary and devotional reflection. It is not created by or affiliated with [Janis Joplin] and should not be taken as his real views or words.”
| Wikipedia |
Bilbo Baggins–style Digital Litany
| Wikipedia |
Dear Lord,
even when they live inside a glowing screen.
Still, adventures seem to find me,
even in my inbox and browser.
So grant me hobbit-sense
in this sprawling online Middle-earth.
Teach me not to wander too far
down dark tunnels of links
where trolls and tricksters wait.
Help me recognize
when a “treasure” is cursed—
a deal too good, a story too wild,
a request too urgent.
Keep my passwords tucked away
like important papers in a locked chest,
my personal details hidden
like the exact location of Bag End.
When insistent messages come knocking
like dwarves at suppertime,
give me the freedom to say,
“No, thank you,”
to shut the door on scams,
and to only open it
for what is true and needful.
Guard the Shire of my family—
their savings, their reputations, their quiet joys—
from distant dangers that arrive
with just one careless click.
And if I am called, now and then,
into brave acts online—
speaking up for someone, reporting a fraud,
warning a neighbor—
then give me courage for that, too.
So that when all is said and done,
and the screen goes dark,
I may sit with a simple cup of tea,
knowing I have stewarded this small, digital life
as faithfully as any hobbit can.
| Wikipedia |
Bon appétit, dear Lord—
and bless this curious kitchen of cables and clouds.
Teach me to handle the digital world
the way I handle a good recipe:
read it through before I start,
measure carefully before I pour,
and never turn the heat up so high
that everything burns.
Let my passwords be like a fine soufflé—
complex, carefully crafted,
and never left unattended.
Keep my accounts as tidy as my mise en place,
with everything in its proper place
and nothing dangerous hiding in the clutter.
When a tempting link arrives like a rich dessert,
help me ask, “Who baked this?”
and “What’s in it?”
Before I taste, click, or share,
remind me that a little skepticism
is as important as a little salt.
Guard the young cooks in this digital kitchen,
so they do not mistake every shiny ad
for good nourishment,
nor every loud voice for true expertise.
And as I stir, chop, type, and post,
help me season this online world
with kindness, patience, and good humor—
so that what I serve to others
through each screen
is as nourishing to the soul
as a simple, well-made meal at the table.
| Wikipedia |
Dear Lord of forests and fireflies,
watch over me in this bright, enchanted web.
Teach me not to trust every shining thing—
not every ad with rosy cheeks,
not every “mirror” that shows me only what I want to see,
not every stranger offering a sweet, convenient click.
Give me friends like wise dwarfs:
alerts that warn me when danger comes close,
updates that help me work safely,
trusted helpers who share advice instead of poison.
Guard my house of data so that
no wicked code slips in disguised as a gift,
no jealous algorithm whispers that I am “less than,”
no huntsman of hatred harms those I love online.
Help me steward my kindness in comments and messages,
singing encouragement instead of curses,
welcoming the lonely without inviting the wolf to the door.
And when the screen lulls me into drowsy scrolling,
wake me with the kiss of truth—
reminding me that real life waits
beyond the magic glass.
| Wikipedia |
Caveat emptier: This post was drafted with help from an AI assistant (Perplexity)— but ideated and edited extensively by the human, Bill Acton
| Wikipedia |
O Lord of hearts and hidden intentions,
guide me through this masquerade
of glowing screens and secret messages.
Teach me that every profile is a mask,
every flattering word may hide a trap,
every sudden romance can be a carefully baited hook.
Grant me the wisdom to charm without deceiving,
to connect without exploiting,
to guard my own heart and data
as carefully as I would guard another’s trust.
Let my passwords be more faithful than fleeting vows,
my privacy settings higher than my impulses,
my promises online as sincere as those whispered in person.
Protect me from scammers dressed as lovers,
from catfish in borrowed faces,
from my own vanity when admiration comes too quickly.
And help me steward this digital dance
so that affection does not become addiction,
curiosity does not become carelessness,
and every message I send carries respect,
not regret.
Caveat emptier: This post was drafted with help from an AI assistant (Perplexity)— but ideated and edited extensively by the human, Bill Acton
| Wikipedia |
Lord, this online world…
sometimes it looks like a quiet street at midnight,
sometimes like a bar fight about to start.
Give me that squint that sees trouble coming
before it walks through the swinging doors of my inbox.
When a message says, “Trust me,”
help me ask, “Why?”
When an offer looks too shiny,
let me hear the rattle of the snake behind it.
Teach me to say less and mean more—
to post with restraint,
to argue only when it matters,
to let fools shout into the void without my help.
Keep my temper holstered when trolls take aim.
Remind me that not every insult needs an answer,
and not every fight is worth the bruises.
Guard my accounts like a small town I’ve sworn to protect,
my reputation like a badge I don’t intend to tarnish,
my time like the last daylight on the horizon.
And when the screen tries to own me,
give me the grit to close it,
step out into the real air,
and walk away knowing
I’m still the one holding the reins.
| Wikipedia |
“Think Different (About Your Screen)”
| Wikipedia |
| Wikipedia |
| Wikipedia |