Gentlefolk, get on your soapboxes.

Apr 26, 2001

My favourite thing about the Internet is that ever since I started using it — I hopped on USENet, back in 1986 — I was instantly empowered to make my contribution. Posts to newsgroups. A reply on a BBS. Then a web page, the ubiquitous guest book signings, and then my own web site full of whatever I wanted to say, whenever I wanted to say it.

Radio, television, and the printed word may reach lots of people (sometimes), but those industries got their paradigms set decades ago. To be on television or radio, or to print a book or even a pamphlet, you had to have money, connections, and some modicum of talent. You could also be given a gag order by the commercial PTBs: we don’t want to publish your book/give you airtime/hear what you have to say. Go sit down and be a good little consumer. Sure, things like public radio and vanity presses (and in the 1990s, public-access cable) let more people come to the party. But even then, there was more of an initial investment — usually in money, which is nice to have for those pesky things like rent and food. On the Internet, anyone can sign up for a free site and publish nearly any kind of web content they want — and unless they break some local or federal law, no one can shut them up.

Sure there may be a lot of crap out there. Some may argue that this site is a steaming example thereof. But I get to talk about whatever I want, whenever I want…and people get to read it whenever they want. They don’t have to buy a book or tune in at a particular time. They can take a break in the middle and get a coffee — or repaint a room in the house. They can read while naked (and if that’s the case, pleaseandthankyou, I really don’t care for details. If you’re not so good looking, it’ll just annoy me. If you’re good looking, it’ll just frustrate me. Neither is particularly delightsome.)

Rail all you want. Decry the gradual lowering of content standards. Get really bored with this site and fire off an angry missive. Then go back to your own site, with your own journal, and rant about how unutterably stupid, how quelle pathetique, this laughing muse person is…

...because I’m not shutting up any time soon. I hope you don’t, either.

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