I had been online for two full years when Wired began publishing. I called up their publicist, who told me they weren’t shipping freebie copies. No need: Even before it sold out to Condé Nast, you could find that rag anywhere.

Maybe, in current year, the Internet is mildly diverting here and there, but it was shit-hot exciting in 1993. Every new issue of Wired seemed like Christmas Day. But the magazine would soon deliver nought but lumps of coal.

I counted down the days till Wired arrived the same way I’d done for Spy. Now imagine an abomination like this glaring back at you from its cover:

‘Wired’ cover shows a Conan the Barbarian–like figure: “The cable slayer: Bell Atlantic CEO Ray Smith explains why cable is dead”

Who in God’s name gives a hoot about cable-TV executives? Imagine the design process of this cover illustration. How was it even possible to find enough sycophancy within yourself to produce this abomination? Then there’s the rank banality.

Is it a surprise that everyone has now forgotten what passed for big names on Wired’s masthead, like founder Louis Rossetto and gobbledygook-churning mainstay Nicholas Negroponte? No – and what also wasn’t a surprise was getting bought out by Sy Newhouse. Wired was always a business magazine. The interview with Ray Smith is all about revenues, “high-yield-oriented” shareholders, and market segments. (Barry Diller shows up at one point.) Imagine thinking you were cool at the same time, like you were some kind of SoHo art dealer with asymmetrical hair.

I also remember Wired’s gopher site – that cœlacanth technology seems to come up a lot here – defying a Canadian court order and publishing details of a serial-killer couple’s trial. (I specifically looked at that gopher site at the time.) Stunning. But Wired would never fire up the balls to call a telecom executive fat, superannuated and dull. Instead, he got the cover-art treatment. (Today it would be a brave transwymmyn of colour, fresh out of a brief stint in jail for storming then burning down a cop shop in the most womanly manner “she” could manage.)

Furthermore, imagine thinking for half a second that cable TV would trounce the Internet.

Quah and Cridland are latter-day Wireds

In a new tale for an accelerated culture, “newsletters” have quickly become passé, and “podcast newsletters” led the charge there.

I certainly care who has unjustly enriched himself or herself in this demimonde, but I am not remotely interested in the ins and outs of podcast advertising and revenue models. Podcasting “summits” are the dumbest idea of the year.

Cridland’s and Quah’s podcasting blogs and newsletters are a crashing bore. They cover all the wrong topics, and they take seriously what needs to be laughed out of town. Cridland has a lengthy privacy policy, but he tracks your visits to his blog, as I shall detail in due course.

The Times gave Quah its star treatment (well more than once) because he’s a non-White non-American who, the Times is rightly confident, will not materially oppose the Times’ own insatiable appetite for the destruction of its foes, namely foundational Americans. The Times indeed will continue its pogrom against wrongthinking podcasters. “Quah” is how “kapo” is transliterated in Bahasa Melayu.

Imagine spending your precious days on God’s green earth chasing podcasting news. To paraphrase Adam Ant: “We don’t follow ‘fashion.’ That’d be a joke!” Podcast “news” is banal. The gassy, servile podcast press proves podcasting really did have a good run.

The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2021.03.23 11:46. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

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