Web economics
~detritus
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Who do these people think they are? Do they actually think their
"content" is worth shit? Most of the time, they bring nothing of
value whatsoever. All they do is rehash some old stuff, perhaps get
chatgpt to throw in a bunch of filler, and then place a bunch of
ads between each paragraph of filler. And then they add megabytes
of javascript for analytics, for them so-called FRAMEWERKS,
ad-blocker-blockers, and overlays to keep you from being able to
see the website to try to force you to "accept all cookies", so
that the actual content that you come here for accounts for
probably less than 1% of the megabytes that they force upon you on
each visit, not to mention the self-DDOSing practice of using
cloudflare which prevents anyone with less than a full-fledged 5G
connection in order to access what in principle is a text document.
Who indeed do these people think they are? Do they actually think
they are providing anything of value? Or do they like to coerce
people into dealing with all this crap just for fun? Are they
sadists, and their intended audience a bunch of masochists? Is the
web 2.0 indeed some kind of big BDSM club and I just didn't get the
memo? On the other hand, webdev really feels to me like masochism
of the worst kind. But behind all of this, I am told, there is some
sense or reason, that reason being the big poison that is killing
individuals, societies, and the very planet we live in, of course,
I am talking about money. Some big masochism club indeed.
It seems, then that people don't do this for fun, even if it's some
kind of wicked, crooked kind of fun that enjoys meaningless toil
and drudgery, the fun of the dumpster diver that doesn't even
expect the occassional gold ring but rather an old jejune
half-eaten macdonalds meal as the ultimate reward. No, believe it
or not, people seem to do this for a living. I have talked about
superstructures already, and it seems people have collectively put
a great deal of man hours into making this whole architecture of
pointlessness and bad taste in order to squeeze some form of profit
from virtually nothing, it's value being precisely the vast
complexity that has accumulated from millions of monkeys attempting
their hand at shakesperean composition.
I remember the old times when they spoke of the highway of
information, now it looks like the streets of some anglo-american
city, full of trash, tents, and rocking fentanil addicts. Only here
it is not fentanil that they are addicted to, but something a lot
worse. They call it "algorithms", but I know what an algorithm is,
and I know what they are really addicted to, and, oddly enough, it
is frustration. I never ever thought anyone could be addicted to
frustration, but here they are, and they are all making a big
profit from their frustration addiction.
But I come back to my original question: who do they think they
are? Do they actually believe that whatever crap they produce
brings any value whatsoever, do they think I cannot just circumvent
all their blocks in one way or another, or, even better, a whole
lot better actually, just leave their ruinous city of obtrusive ad
bondage and just get what I need from infinitely more decent
sources that do not coerce me into consenting to give them my life
in a silver platter for them to render meaningless and, well,
devoid of life? Do they actually believe that I would spend one
more minute putting up with their steaming pile of sterile manure
that they have any hope of getting anything at all from me? How
many newsletters written by amateur snake oil salesmen do they
expect me to subscribe to, and how do they figure a spam ridden
mail account will make me want to fall for the next nigerian
scammer who tries to pull the most obvious tricks to get me to
reveal every detail from my bank account?
I insist, and I really wonder, do they actually believe their
unsightly dumpster has anything for me to look at, let alone
consider actually immersing myself into a sea of despair and
frustration, that I would want to spend a single minute pretending
there is anything there I couldn't find a lot more easily, and
instantly, just looking elsewhere, pereferably away from the sight
of any screen?
Now they sell whole computers just designed to try to convince you,
really trying to convince you that this is what life is, just
hooked up to some crappy app, completely given up on my will, just
trying to figure out what the next big fad is to spend most of my
energy chasing the faintest of lights in an eternal descent into
the abyss where everybody throws their feces.
I really can't believe so many people have opted into this world of
pain, and on top of that, make it their lives. I am glad I dodged
the bullet by being born some 10 years before it would be too late.