Since Sitepoint’s being poky about posting my comment on this ill-conceived corn bolus on the “myth” of Inbox Zero, I’m pasting my response here.
For posterity and whatnot.
I see a staggering amount of entitlement every day in the form of arguments and blog posts like the latter.
We don’t deserve anything. Publishers can do whatever they want. If you don’t like it, don’t send them nasty emails or browse their sites with ad-blockers: just don’t support them. Don’t read their content, don’t link to them, and don’t talk about them. Since money’s not usually involved, vote with your attention and read elsewhere.
Straw man, Marco.
See update below re The Atlantic site’s “CMS bug.”
Context: if you’re arriving here late, the article below was a response to my pal, nostrich’s post about my own lamenting of the recent disappearance of full-content RSS feeds for The Atlantic Monthly's online-only features. It's not about how everything in the world has to be free to everybody all the time forever; it is, in my opinion, about trying to reconcile two incongruous trends: 1) big media properties pushing their writers to post frequently online, then, 2) cutting that great writing off at the knees by not providing its full content in free RSS feeds. ‘Nuff said. —mdm (the Kung Fu Grippe Guy)
Summary: There’s a thin line between irritating and necessary evil, and I don’t think the Atlantic has crossed it yet.
Never said it was evil. I am absolutely saying it’s patently dumb and potentially suicidal.
Being a love letter to The Wrens and their 2003 album, The Meadowlands. Composed of an improbable combination of gushing prose, digital audio recordings, live and promotional music videos, a handful of amusing quotations, an anecdote involving the rock band, “Creed,” one grudging acknowledgment of a web property that rhymes with, “witch dork,” plus a sampling of band photographs, curated from the modest portfolio of your author. Who is a fan.
(and a couple things about you, me, and a metaphorical horse)
Yes. Long. Again. Deal. Thanks.
Also, you want a great high? Get a great rejection letter from a place like Esquire. I did and do and I save them all.
Somewhere, deep in our garage, I think I still have my first rejection from The Atlantic (ca. 1990). Blue embossed type on heavy card stock, if memory serves. Classy. Distinguished. Albeit, not signed.
I will apologize in advance if either Ms. Farrelly or Mr. Marshall (the presumptive authors of this press release) is a friend, relative, or colleague of someone I know. And I say this not to hurt feelings. But, wow. This is just horribly written.
Buffering [Sonny Payne]
When I was a percussionist in high school, we were responsible for keeping the jazz band, full orchestra, concert band, and marching band in time, and we did so through a haze of marijuana and hormones and passed-down stories of some guy’s uncle who saw Gene Krupa perform a 12-minute solo using every part of a high hat while eschewing the rest of the kit. And to this day, when I see videos like this, I get an urge to skip class and go make out with a bassoonist in a sound-proof practice room. After all, life is short, and lunch period is even shorter.
Did you read that? That was swell. One hundred five words. Less than half a page.
That’s all it took for this person (whom I’m pretty sure I’ve never met) to make my day. Now I want to follow this person or star this person or favr this person or whatever the fuck au courant verb box I need to mash on in order to see more things like that.
Yes, I realize I am — already, again, seemingly forever — carrying on like that weird relative who always smells of gin and Starlight mints as he threatens to “set you up with a sweet Doobie Brothers mix.” I love Starlight mints, but please don’t misunderstand me.
I genuinely enjoy looking at oversaturated pictures of coltish women I’ll never meet. I’m always game to make fun of “improperly” punctuated “signs.” And God knows I love reading (and posting) elliptical quotes from famous books I never finished reading. Stipulated.
But, brother. Do I ever wish more people would write little stories like Buffering’s. It’s just so wonderful. You know?
I mean, Jesus Christ, people, LOOK. We have keyboards! Literally right in front of us. Right this second.