WHY THE WEB SUCKS/FLAMEWAR

I saw a link to an article at Huffington Post about a kidnapped professor in Arizona: "Veronica Perez Rodriguez, Northern Arizona Professer [sic], Escapes Kidnappers In Mexico."
Never mind the typo in the headline. That's a subject for a different post. I was curious about the content-to-"crap" ratio. Here's a miniaturized screen capture of the page that I got. I used Photoshop and hid the actual content (it's covered in red). In other words, the red area represents the information that people actually want to see when they arrive.
The content occupies about 5.2% of the page. The remaining 94.8% consists of ads, links to other pages, links to social crap, a Bing search, a Twitter box, unhidable comments, navigation tools, and who knows what else.
The HTML code is 410K, and it loads eight additional HTML documents, 272 graphic images, 21 Javascript files, 8 CSS files, and about two dozen other files. Loading the page makes 294 HTTP requests, and gets 1,868,368 bytes. It has at least 332 hyperlinks.
The text "facebook" is used 109 times in the raw source document. The text "twitter" is used 122 times.
If you actually read the article, you find that it's just an article and video duplicated from another site -- an excellent example of how a content farm works. This sort of thing probably represents the future of the Web, and it will only get worse. You can avoid some of the garbage by using an ad blocker, but it doesn't hide the fact that this web page is 95% worthless. In fact, it's 100% worthless when you consider the fact that you can find the exact same content elsewhere.
The page where they got the content from is also obnoxious, but not nearly as bad as HuffPo. When you use an ad blocker, it actually looks pretty good.
http://j-walkblog.com
DLN: What's with all these forwards?
THE MOSS PROBLEM: Really? Get bent, fucker.
DLN: Why are you such a retard? I just asked what you were up to and you act like an ass.
This is why I had to cut off the phone biz. I know part of you can't help it and I feel terrible for the part that can, but sometimes like now I can't tell the difference and I just don't feel like getting treated like dirt for no reason.
If you're well then you're a jerk. If you're not then I'm sorry and I look forward to talking when you've cycled out and into a better state.
MP: I'm not allowed to call you. I'm not allowed to write to you. Only certain DLN-related topics are discussable.
Sending you an article fucks up your life about as much as seeing my name on your call i.d. screws up your life. Your intolerance is staggering, your egotism outrageous. I love you and all and I always will and I am as flawed as they come and you ARE brilliant and all that but no one calls shots in my life lording whatever over me except my future wife and you are definitely not her. I realize you don't need me, I don't need you, but you're a cool guy and I won't play the abused stepchild ever.
DLN: Get bent, fucker? That's what you say to me when I ask what's going on? And now this? What an overreach. Phone is out for obvious reasons though it doesn't make me happy. E-mail is always fine except when you start this kind of crap. Topics are all on the table; where do you get that we can only talk about me? Because you refuse to talk about yourself? I'm not intolerant, I suppose, unless endless phone calls and being abused in e-mail and not liking it is a sign of intolerance.
This is all a two-way street. Ponder both sides, please.
MP: I'm sorry. You're right. "Get bent, fucker," was the extremely worst thing to say. I will regroup, stop spamming you, and try to be human. I suck sometimes.
DLN: Thanks, same here, not trying to pick a fight, I just get it from all angles and it's hard to know when to defend and when to absorb or ignore.
SRM: I accept yer apology...That's the first time I've ever witnessed you flipping-the-fuck-out...Wasn't pleasant. Especially since I seemed to be the one, to have spawned yer Beast. I kept reminding myself that you bark and not bite...I wanted badly to serve you a Karate Chop. But, that probably could have made you imagine that I was a Praying Mantis-style Kung Fu Instructor, at the Fairfield YMCA....and then yer phone call to yr mom would FORCE a call from her to yr paternal arch-nemesis....eventually --tho not TOO far down-- leading to Haldol-induced phone calls begging me to smuggle you-in a few smokes, at Sinclair (sp?) State-where, evidently their professional staff haven't-yet adopted anywhere near-a progressive game-plan, with their five-shelved Darius Case-File...
--I was stuck in the pouring rain. Placed my properties, which you whizzed-out, from yer apartment door-into/onto the floor/stairs...placed them in the dumpster-covered with an empty/discarded Utility of a LaRosa's Pizza Box (a LARGE==My GuD LuK), behind yer complex...waiting fer my Folks to pick me up. They were in the middle of an evening out, enjoying a nice dinner, fer my Dad's Eighty-Years-Old Birthday --forcible phone-- voice interrupting their celebration, soaked, pissed-off, confused, stuck-fer-a-cab (I called about seven friends and cabs-with no dice)...
--(I, the Victim of-)-your overly-physical harangue, coming out-from-nowhere-My tormenting consequence of The Defining dipshittedly, uninspired and garden-variety Flaked Nonsense - (myself, personally-) having nowhere CLOSE to becoming reckoned with-added with disappointing-futility thoughts - "reckoning" what you normally do/who you are, predictable lack of abilities to inspire...Realizing the difference between Rant and mindless middle-aged chatter...
Dexedrine vs. Dextromethorphan....
Talking FAST vs. Talking Mumbo Jumbo...
Ambition vs. Apathy...
Elementary Discussion vs. Confrontational Misinterpretation...
Intentional Personal Neglect (--with available "betterment" means, on hand) vs. Disappointment Surfing With State Aid...
A man and a woman-soon, later, another one of yer neighbors were walking into the building...Was walking towards them, to mostly get out of the downpour...There were NO shelters. No-frills style-parking garages, unlocked buildings, business establishments, nor otherwise...After some kind words, I was let into yer building. Waited in the laundry room, with all my shit (it stayed dry, in the dumpster. LaRosa's Pizza Parlours kick ass...)
...Miserable and rain-soaked approaches lay-down a sympathetic demeanor-even in the most miserable assholes I explained that the crap on the floor was mine and that you'd thrown me out. One of these folks asked me if it was a "lover''s spat" (meaning=You & I = L u V ) - - I said it wasn't...and didn't really bad-mouth you at all, if I remember...I remember a Black girl mentioning that you were (=-she views you as--) "quiet"...No "Gay Talk" was inferred.
I ONLY apologize fer my (sarcastic), confrontational "advice"-regarding yer trends in regards to yer publishing choices/apathy towards profiting from personal Arts & Crafts. etc. etc. etc.
I'll listen to yr voice mails. I'll notice yr e-mails...
That's about IT.
Good luck.
http://themossproblem.blogspot.com

GILMORE TAMNY, QUEEN OF THE YIPS

Chickfactor: When did you first publish WIGLET and why?
Gilmore Tamny: Started it in November of '90 after I'd moved to Cleveland. I'd been writing stories in college and giving the whole trying-to-get-published thing a whirl, which, ugh, was seeming pretty miserable. My boyfriend showed me some zines--they were a complete revelation--and I knew that's what I wanted to do.
CF: What sort of things were in WIGLET?
Gilmore: Interviews, comics, a confessional or two, essays, short stories.
CF: What thing in WIGLET were you most proud of?
Gilmore: Ah, I think it had a really specific feel to it.
CF: Why did you stop WIGLET?
Gilmore: I'm glad you asked me that. I've felt bad I've never written back to the people who've asked for issues or why I stopped putting it out. It was a convergence of miseries, really. I was having problems which I didn't feel comfortable writing about, it didn't fit into the WIGLET idea, but couldn't really talk about anything else, either. So I just sort of shut down and played guitar all the time. Also, the person who had been the inspiration for WIGLET had gone crazy a few years before and was going in and out of jail and institutions, which was just depressing as hell and I kinda needed to put an end to that era of my life. That's all kind of grim, but I don't know, it worked out for the best, I think I was getting ready to do something else anyway.

THE STORY OF ROCK

Buddy Holly said, "I guess it doesn't matter anymore" and he is so correct. I know you're fanatically devoted to "The Day the Music Died," you like to sing along with your good friends while drinking wine and I heard about your heroin abuse episode at this year's Jimmy Buffet concert. "Everybody in my office is a junkie!" Congratulations.

"Rock" is the triumph, finally, of the Loser.

THE SCHEMATIC STRIKES! by Jeanne Falstrom 1985

priscilla painful on a midnight walk
shouting shallow thunder upwards
as i laugh with envy
poor poor priscilla i say
but as always i really mean me
and she loves me until she gets
bored
then flies to a lighthot lamp
then dies
i pretend not to care
but as always i suck
and i loved priscilla
(when i was
bored)