Here on break

  • 3 Posts
  • 487 Comments
Joined 1 year ago
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Cake day: June 16th, 2023

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  • I mean even if it made them more money to platform confirmed shitheads, it’s still the wrong thing to do. Like ethically. It doesn’t also have to be wrong from a business or even legal perspective.

    If a company can’t take that kind of stand I don’t want anything to do with them.

    I am actually kind of thrilled that I have substack subscriptions, including paid, that I can pull as my little protest to this platform. Luckily my paid subscriptions have both confirmed that they’re ditching substack as well, so my support will follow them wherever they land.

    I really hope that substack lets writers have access to their email lists, so they can easily take them with them.











  • I think the fediverse in general has a better chance because it’s built on an anti-corporate philosophy, from the software, maintainers, admins, moderators, and much of the community (though increasingly less so, as it becomes more popular).

    If you have a problem with corporate influence on Reddit, then your ability to act on it ends with your subreddit’s moderators. To the admins and owners of reddit, that kind of influence is a feature.

    Hell they can even monetize it, bake it right into the DNA of the back-end, give the corps a nice little API to poll, maybe some webhooks…

    That is not something I see happening on the fediverse as long as its open source and run by the community.







  • Vetinari IRL. From Soul Music by Terry Pratchett:

    Besides, Lord Vetinari, the supreme ruler of Ankh-Morpork, rather liked music.

    People wondered what sort of music would appeal to such a man. Highly formalized chamber music, possibly, or thunder-and-lightning opera scores.

    In fact the kind of music he really liked was the kind that never got played. It ruined music, in his opinion, to torment it by involving it on dried skins, bits of dead cat, and lumps of metal hammered into wires and tubes. It ought to stay written down, on the page, in rows of little dots and crotchets all neatly caught between lines. Only there was it pure. It was when people started doing things with it that the rot set in. Much better to sit quietly in a room and read the sheets, with nothing between yourself and the mind of the composer but a scribble of ink. Having it played by sweaty fat men and people with hair in their ears and spit dribbling out of the end of their oboe… well, the idea made him shudder. Although not much, because he never did anything to extremes.