Now never you mind how long ago … time doesn’t matter in art. Not in the tiniest bit. What do you suppose people cut off, by way of what secretly engages them, in the name of timeliness. Since, as we all know, the Interwebs are both instant and eternal, seems to me (unless your job is at stake, and I wouldn’t know about jobs) that this is the perfect opportunity to go deep. You’ll never know what you could have done, had you followed your obsessions …

So, WTFork was yesterday? Well, it was Bulgarian, in the flesh. Back In April, I posted Ten Questions For Tim O’Reilly, and was backlinked by Kultura.bg. Finally got around to feeding it into various really scrimpy Bulgarian-to-English services—guess there’s not a huge demand—and here are the results. Granted, these are only machine translations—but isn’t the essence soaked out. I love this kind of thing.

There are numerous, surprised But … /censoring/blogs

In fact, that was thought long since The entrance of правилник for блогери. Necessary the occasion was, but he as well Consider, at the end of March Kate Sierra received a series of bawdy and heavy comments. They had seen about her those that did not be as well, seen who exists and how does it seem. Kate Sierra is not precarious. She is a girlfriend, as well Съратница of Тимо Riley, the site.

1. Everybody must take responsibility for a блога and the comments left to him. The one блог is impossible, when the threat of the personality or the personalities was used for badgering, stalk as well. Permitting slanders, it transgresses копирайта, the trademark, the trade secret or the patent of somebody third, When violating the obligation for поверителност, the personal space, the limelight, the morals …

2. Everybody must mark his level to a tolerance to ruffianly gossips. [mean kids, no doubt]

3. It to eliminate conceivably the anonymous gossips.

4. To ignore троловете (to be called in Internet the toughs.)

Always things with that spirit! The questions right logically emerge in the comments: It is necessary On Some, To know has she done the inauguration of censoring in an internet ? If you stuff the mouth of somebody don’t you harass him to more unacceptable acts of aggression? But Who will decide who is blasphemy?

I will not issue opinion on the idea of Tim ОРайли, even though it проличавам quite already. Nor I will show of examples some real situation in which I have fallen in part because point did not come, in part because fearing that my protest for the entrance of rules would have to be explained with my utensil to culture excessively different to the American. And so with position as well—Totalitarian know what ременености of mind, impulsive still to the subconscious anarchism. I will use the answer of one American блогерка:

I read the entered by Тим о’Riley draft on legal code of блогера, and бидейки writer, осъмвам with a few issues :

1. I frequently use The word “fucked.” Am I in conflicts?

2. Is it that regrettable content?

3. Does the fluency of the speech mean only kind humans?

4. But How the narcist can dance up one pin point sharply?

5. Does Mark Твен said thing funny for the sows?

6. I am not related with the business-party on an internet in no manner. Must you be only the captive mouth in that case?

7. The diaries online. When did they died? Possibly in 2003?
    . . .
10. Monitoring the behavior of professions during the big billowing to niff, you can imagine How uneasy becomes the personality as me, reading the word marketing?
Райна Маркова

Hey! I just realized … I wuz used!

Брой 15 (2454), 17 април 2007 г.

Не, че има много изненадани, но… / цензура / blogs

Всъщност, това отдавна се очакваше – въвеждането на правилник за блогери. Нужен беше само повод, но и той взе, че се появи – в края на март блогерката Кейт Сиера получи серия неприлични и заплашителни коментари и така се разпищя, че принуди дори тези, които не бяха и чували за нея, да научат коя е и как изглежда. А Кейт Сиера не е случайна. Тя е приятелка и съратница на Тим О Райли. Сайтът й е със заглавие „Създавай страстни юзъри‛ и първото което виждаме, когато попаднем на него е изображение на доволна двойка в стил 50-те и надпис: „Scoble казва, че блогването ще ни направи по-богати и ще подобри нашия сексуален живот.‛ Хм, Scoble1! Само заради това, че ме кара да се питам кой, по дяволите, е твърдящият подобна глупост Scoble, бих пратила лично една-две смъртни заплахи на споменатата мис, пък макар и само за да се убедя в слабото й чувство за хумор. Но какво значи раздразнението на някой като мен, при положение, че самият Тим О Райли, възмутен от внезапното прозрение, че подобни неща се случват масово в мрежата, (при това не само на неговата позната и то не от вчера), решава, да изкорени злото от интернет чрез въвеждане на някои правила. Засега те са просто нахвърляни като чернова и се обсъждат. Обмислят се в няколко варианта, за да може всеки да избере своя набор правила в зависимост от търпимостта си, но общо взето става дума за следното:

1. Всеки трябва да поеме отговорност за блога си и коментарите допускани в него. А един блог е неприемлив, когато: се ползва за тормоз, дебнене и заплаха на личност или личности,; пускане на клевети; престъпва копирайта, запазената марка, търговската тайна или патента на някой трети; когато нарушава задължението за поверителност, личното пространство, публичността, морала…

2.Всеки трябва да отбележи сам нивото си на толерантност към груби коментари.

3. Евентуално да елиминира анонимните коментари

4. Да игнорира троловете (така в интернет се наричат грубияните)
Все неща в този дух! В коментарите съвсем логично изплуват въпросите: А налагането на някакви, какви да е правила не е ли началото на цензура в интернет? Ако запушиш устата на някой, не го ли провокираш към по-неприемливи прояви на агресия? А кой ще определя кое е клевета и кое не?

Няма да напиша своето мнение за идеята на Тим ОРайли, макар то донякъде вече да си пролича, нито ще посоча за примери някои реални ситуации в които съм попадала отчасти защото мястото не би ми стигнало, отчасти защото се опасявам се, че несъгласието ми с въвеждането на правила би могло да бъде обяснено с принадлежността ми към култура, твърде различна от американската, а също и с пост-тоталитарни и не знам какви още обременености на психиката, тласкащи ме към подсъзнателен анархизъм. Ето защо ще ползвам в ответ постинга на една американска блогерка:

Прочетох нахвърляната от Тим О’Райли чернова за кодекс на блогера и бидейки писател, осъмнах с няколко въпроса:

7. Онлайн дневниците. Кога точно умряха? Може би през 2003?
…
10. Наблюдавайки поведението на блогващите web професионалисти по време на поредното голямо надигане на воня в мрежата, можете ли да си представите колко неспокойна става личност като мен, щом чуе думата Маркетинг?

Райна Маркова

What the fork was I bitching about? There has been this badge up at Listics that took me forever to mouseover … and when I did, whoa! Of course now it’s long gone—I told you, I operate on Icelandic time—but there’s nothing easier than helping yourself, on a Mac. Just drag that sucker to the desktop and it’s yours. Unless of course FP has some kinda weird license on it. Copyright I get. That other stuff, no. It’s not that I don’t believe in the Good, or that it springs perpetual-like from the heart—I simply cannot stand anything that smacks of PBS.

So, after finally remembering what is thing was on my desktop—Frank! What greater honor, what higher accolade! I just do not know.

That Frank is … an old hippie, is what he is. Not, of course, wholly unlike oneself. Old not in years—well, maybe that too, depends on your perspective, you child—but to have been a hippie is to forever after shed traces of that far-away state of heart, of mind …

Dear HST, you can still see the line where the wave broke, from Grizzly Peak. On a good day you can see over the City and, way out to sea, to the tiny peaks of the Farallons. The water is so bright.

What I have always thought is that the wave never broke at all, but rose higher and higher til it curled over San Francisco and fell into the Pacific, disappearing into the ocean. So that, really, there was never any end. Not for me, not for Frank, or Annie … or a hundred thousand other souls.

The wave may grow smaller as it ripples outward in both the ocean and the dusty dimension of time, may seem to have disappeared … but that is illusion, dear man. You know as well as I, waves do not die.

I write to Hunter Thompson even though he is dead. To get jacked that high, daily, in order to live, to write, the thought tires me near to death. Cool as that kind of life was, it was also unsustainable. Which became instantly clear the moment any of us tried to raise kids. One of the sadder scenes I remember from the mountains was coming across a camp of completely stoned people, who never looked up … and their bewildered, dirty children, who ran alongside the car like beggars, peering in at my kids. Hi! Where you going? What’s your name? When really, they were scared, lost.

If I’m talking to HST again, there must be gonzo about. Which is at least half hippie anyway—at least for those who had edge. In Berkeley, we had edge. Hey, some of us still do. There’s me … there’s Dave Winer …

Edge as opposed to those drug-addled flower children in the Haight—present company excepted, Annie.

So here you are, dear href Frank. My public thanks. I’ve never received an award for being a pain in the ass. (Unless of course we count my divorce decree.)

You’re the best,
Zo

When did I write this? Write, as opposed to post. A distinction that oft escapes me … I do not by nature pay much attention timelines. Which is how that Forty Years Since The Summer of Love crap snuck up on me. File under: What Makes Zo A Bad Blogger. I’d turn in my badge … but to who? I mean, to whom? Not that I have a badge, to begin with.

Sometime around the Ides of March, maybe a little later:

I see by the newspaper that ol’ Tim is busy today, representing, um, you. I had no idea the largeness of personage … but do I care. What’s fascinating about the current WWW Parade of Narcissism isn’t just its infinitude, no no no! It is the way people get so big, so padded, so fatuous, even those with ol’ Tim’s layer of earnestness. So removed. I expect the answers aren’t that complicated; it’s just one of those days where it’s hard to think straight. Not, of course, for guys like ol’ Tim and Beavis, or is it Butthead, onstage, the two of them determining your future like it was theirs to play with, chuckle chuckle.

People seem to need someone to represent them. No … people need someone to represent what they wish they were, so that they may applaud its embodiment. Other cultures ululate—we bang hands. Weird, either way, and without intrinsic meaning, except to raise a happy clamor. Ol’ Tim, ol’ Tim, I love you, you warm and fuzzy thing!

Tim and his endless badges thread. Bet he wishes he’d never allowed comments along about now. Badges have been hashed half to death, if not completely killed. People are talking about crap like civility. Fuck, if I wanted to be civil, I would move back to West Hartford. 

I did notice, avid little student of power-and-powerlessness that I am, that all the important people were replied to, and I mean pronto. It was quite a thread (okay, I skimmed) … the badgers, the anti-badgers (no, nothing to do with animal rights) … the long and deadly posts of engineer bloggers who really need to get out more often, the long and scrappy posts of those scrappy little types who can’t let anything thing go … and then this pearl, which I wanted to let shine on its own:

“You shouldn’t brand civility.”

This comment was left by a young Swedish blogger, who in many ways needs a good slap upside the head, but I am nonetheless enchanted by it. Whether his intention was “You cannot brand civility” or “You really should not, to try and do so signals the end of all humanity,” or even, “Fuck your stinking badges and the horse they rode in on,” it seemed to me a voice that harkened to something larger and as yet unseen.

A warning away, perhaps, from Web 2.0, the goal of which appears to be precisely that. To brand not only civility but every other aspect of being human and sell back to us. To our own immense, irreplaceable loss.

Note on method: 
1. trivialize the need-desire-feeling into a small, manageable size
2. give it a focus-grouped name that drops a key vowl
3. launch the beta by invitation only, creating buzzzz …  

edited june 16 to add: 4. profit!!!

With thanks to one of the more gentle souls among us, Stavros, who has so kindly, nay, selflessly donated his services in the interest of a safer, happier blogging experience for all. Fashioning with his own two hands (I think he has hands) a veritable plethora of badges from which to choose, of which I show but a few special favorites.

Ah’m here to kick ass and chew gum … and Ah’m all outta gum.

I got yer code of conduct right here. No, really.

Snarky blogging permit. Step the fuck back.

Yes? Question? No, we Stavrosites (get it, har har) do not believe Stavros is duplicating previous efforts. See his remarks in the Book of EmptyBottle, chapter of April 11,

A lovely little badge has even been made for our use, to show what good blogistani citizens we are.

To which I fell compelled to say, in the nicest possible way, mark me, without trying to be mean, or scare anyone, or utter anything that could be construed as death threats: why don’t you take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut? Why don’t you take a flying fuck at the mooooooooooooon?

Amen.

I read where Tim O’Reilly is drafting a call for a Bloggers Code of Conduct, and I, being a writer, find myself with some questions:

1. I use the word fuck a lot. Am I flaming myself?

2. Is this Objectionable Content?

3. Does freedom of speech mean only nice people? Read the rest of this entry »