“At the wedding yesterday, as the grandfather of the bride was having a flower pinned to his jacket, he said with a smile, “You should give me a faded flower because I’m old.” I replied, “No sir, you get a colorful flower, because you’re full of life.”—
I understand why you did it. I’ve made the same mistake myself. But it’s hurting your friends, it’s hurting you, and it’s hurting the Internet. You need to stop.
You need to stop automatically dumping your feeds from one account into another.
Look, I know it’s tempting. New service, not sure how you’ll keep up with the ever demanding maw and there’s the “import your content” button, right there in the sign-up process. A quick trip through a login screen or an OAuth link and there you are: All your stuff automatically aggregated into a new one-stop-shop of the genius things that pop out of your head.
No muss, no fuss, right?
This is an illusory solution. It’s a false idol. It’s contributing to noise pollution on the Internet and the only people it helps are company execs who want to make spurious claims about “user engagement”. It’s diminishing the quality of your output and of others’ experiences.
You need to unlink your feeds and put a tiny bit more effort into using each service for what it is.
What really cracks me up is when people link their personal tumblr to their twitter account, like it’s really essential information that everyone needs to know it’s that time of the month for you, and it needs to be auto-fed from your tumblr to your twitter and your facebook.
Seriously, you’re not that interesting.
YES. UNLINK YOUR FEEDS PEOPLE. What I’ve been saying for forever.
I woke up at 4:35 a.m. and jotted down this little gem on my iPhone that was sitting beside me on the nightstand. Then I went back to bed. When I woke up later at 7:30 a.m., this is what I read:
"Crazy dream. Started on what seemed to be a ship of some sort. Bunch of my age people on board. The leaders tell us they’re hauling China’s legendary country car or something like that, so it seems to be a huge honor.
Then we discover that the “car” is not a car at all, but a huge Chinese dragon with these fierce eyes and even fiercer need to devour. It’s beautiful, however. Reds and blues and glittery golds. It grows at an alarming rate. When we thought we were dealing with just a baby dragon, it then somehow reproduces smaller dragons and they grow and grow.
Somehow we get off the ship. Now we’re on land. We’re in a full-blown war against this thing, but only us locals are fighting because we’re waiting on Fed help to get there. Apparently, we find out the dragon is mind controlled by a mysterious man in a red cape with a Spanish looking black hat — very V for Vendetta like. White face paint, if you ever do see a partial glimpse of his face, which is rare. Dead on gun shots straight at him are futile. He seems invincible.
I’m caught in the middle of the fighting with Sarah Perry, who of course argues with me on what way we should go and what should be done. She takes off inside the building that contains the monster (because she “wants to confront it”), but I argue and stay outside in the dark. Later, the building is blown up (see Sarah? Listen to me!) in an attempt to kill the dragon and the only person I know who miraculously makes it out alive is Ryan Angell, who is dressed in what appears to be some sort of military issued clothing. Lol.
Apparently, he’s become the town’s local hero with (unbeknown-to-us) sharp shooter skills. He got in a few crucial hits to immobilize the thing so they could eventually bomb it. It would have otherwise moved too fast before the Feds would have gotten there.
Ryan’s a loner, however, and I don’t catch back up with him til later at my parent’s house in the country. Everything seems safe until we find out that the thing (dragon) is dropping undetected eggs and they hatch and grow at alarming rates — all while being mind controlled by the red-caped man.
At this point, word has spread about this dragon monster and we learn more facts about it: the ship we had been on had intercepted the eggs of one of these dragons to take back to the US to study as a weapon of war. However, they miscalculated the timing of hatching (no one had been able to transport one of these since the timing of the birth/hatching was always so unpredictable.) But given intel that these eggs were far too young to hatch yet, the ship we were on took the chance.
(Not sure why a civilian ship would do that. It’s not like any other part of this dream is logical. Stop questioning and just go with it.)
So I’m at home thinking I’m in the clear (I somehow managed to leave the city — a city similar in size and looks of Denton — where the dragon monster was first discovered.) Then we (my family) start to hear the creepy crawling of one of the younger hatchling dragons on the roof. We start firing at it once we get outside but it quickly eludes us. My dad sets off emergency flares. I’ve got a .22 rifle, but it seems worthless compared to the dragon’s quick maneuvering abilities. Our ideal life in the countryside is quickly deteriorating. Smoke rises from the house and flames engulf what is left of what we know.
We hear some shuffling in the trees (we’re hiding in the woods waiting for help), and Ryan Angell is there loading ammo into his gun. Yeah. Don’t ask me. So he motions for us (he’s become a man of few words and the war has apparently hardened him into an expressionless loner) to stay down and stay quiet. We hear ruffling above us in one of the tress and begin to panic.
We slowly look up and see —- I kid you not —- John Lithgow.
He’s dressed like he hasn’t showered for weeks and smells even worse. He’s mumbling some incoherent nonsense and laughing like he’s mad. We help him down but he continues to rant through bouts of crazy laughter: “I was going to die. I was going to die. I saw it. He showed it to me. He shows you how you kill yourself because it’s better than living in this. I was going to die.”
I whisper to my dad, asking him if I can just shoot him now to put him out of his misery, but Dad hesitates. And that’s when John Lithgow says: “He showed me where I was going to die. He took me. I saw it.”
Dad asks him, “Do you know where he lives? The man with the red cape? Do you know how to get us there?”
I look at my dad like he’s crazy, but since his house burned up he figures he has nothing left here and wants to put an end to it all. He knows that can only happen if he finds red-caped man — the man behind the dragon.
John Lithgow shuffles around and nods his head in quick repetitive jerks. We follow him into the countryside and that’s when I wake up…”