Don't expect the reader to know what you mean
by BenCollver from LinuxQuestions.org on (#6FXR2)
Today i enjoyed this post/rant from prahou:
DON'T EXPECT THE READER
TO KNOW WHAT YOU
MEAN
2023-10-26 ~pmjv
When a daunting person takes the wrong fork at the intersection somewhere
past the DNS layer, they find themselves in foreign territory of alien
voices. This country of strange ideas wastes little time to brand the
unsuspecting tourist an-under-the-rock-dwelling fool. I am describing the
internet of the cultural mainstream. A place, where everyone lives with
the understanding that knowledge is universally shared.
But I am not talking about a metaphysical belief of shamans of the jungle,
drooling over concrete trees and LED lamps, tranced out of their minds,
hacking the universal language of the cosmos, before waking up in 14 hours
proclaiming: "Now I get it! We're all one!" Not at all. Despite the often
fairly pornographic profile pictures and unknowable standards of username
composition consisting of at least 3 underscores and 2 leading periods,
this place is familiar, albeit much neater, shinier, and very very inviting.
At a first glance, the tourist might not even realize the alien nature
of this place. They will pass the glistening exhibits, hear the mutter
of erudite voices, observe discussions and debates, all accompanied by the
seductive dance of affordable sex workers. Until they begin to feel the
pressure to know what's going on, and then it is revealed - the tourist
is a monster for not already knowing.
Finally I begin to question myself. How much of a man am I, if I had
not cheered at a celebrity boxing event, proclaimed my spite for the
universally hated content creator, or having no opinion on an instagrammer's
latest rap song. What's my favorite reaction channel? I thought all these
just caricatures, a satirical portrayals of what I imagined the world `out
there' to be like, but it is real. And it is popular. And you are expected
to know it.
And so a block forms before my eyes. A cube overgrown with sickly
reeds and covered in muck and bile, dripping onto the scratched floorboards.
Hastily scribbled lines disguised as intellect, disguised as choose your
own adventure.
Numbers in the hundreds of thousands, sometimes millions, to their handles,
and I do not know, who any of these people are, and when I attempt to
understand, I come up empty handed.
I am quick to understand that I am not welcome here, as I begin closing
tabs and the glitter begins fading away and the ladies stop their dance.
..
And that's the story of me clicking on the 'trending' link.
From: <gopher://triapul.cz/0/phlog/
2023-10-26-dont-expect-the-reader-to-know-what-you-mean.txt>
DON'T EXPECT THE READER
TO KNOW WHAT YOU
MEAN
2023-10-26 ~pmjv
When a daunting person takes the wrong fork at the intersection somewhere
past the DNS layer, they find themselves in foreign territory of alien
voices. This country of strange ideas wastes little time to brand the
unsuspecting tourist an-under-the-rock-dwelling fool. I am describing the
internet of the cultural mainstream. A place, where everyone lives with
the understanding that knowledge is universally shared.
But I am not talking about a metaphysical belief of shamans of the jungle,
drooling over concrete trees and LED lamps, tranced out of their minds,
hacking the universal language of the cosmos, before waking up in 14 hours
proclaiming: "Now I get it! We're all one!" Not at all. Despite the often
fairly pornographic profile pictures and unknowable standards of username
composition consisting of at least 3 underscores and 2 leading periods,
this place is familiar, albeit much neater, shinier, and very very inviting.
At a first glance, the tourist might not even realize the alien nature
of this place. They will pass the glistening exhibits, hear the mutter
of erudite voices, observe discussions and debates, all accompanied by the
seductive dance of affordable sex workers. Until they begin to feel the
pressure to know what's going on, and then it is revealed - the tourist
is a monster for not already knowing.
Finally I begin to question myself. How much of a man am I, if I had
not cheered at a celebrity boxing event, proclaimed my spite for the
universally hated content creator, or having no opinion on an instagrammer's
latest rap song. What's my favorite reaction channel? I thought all these
just caricatures, a satirical portrayals of what I imagined the world `out
there' to be like, but it is real. And it is popular. And you are expected
to know it.
And so a block forms before my eyes. A cube overgrown with sickly
reeds and covered in muck and bile, dripping onto the scratched floorboards.
Hastily scribbled lines disguised as intellect, disguised as choose your
own adventure.
Numbers in the hundreds of thousands, sometimes millions, to their handles,
and I do not know, who any of these people are, and when I attempt to
understand, I come up empty handed.
I am quick to understand that I am not welcome here, as I begin closing
tabs and the glitter begins fading away and the ladies stop their dance.
..
And that's the story of me clicking on the 'trending' link.
From: <gopher://triapul.cz/0/phlog/
2023-10-26-dont-expect-the-reader-to-know-what-you-mean.txt>