Reddit Was a Good Business

I joined Reddit in 2008. I remember it as a perpetual series of discoveries. Every time I logged in, I would learn something I never would have seen otherwise. New technology. New comedy. New ideology. New pornography. New ability to interpolate a unique string of characters related to current events and suddenly take control of a fresh memetic stream of independent media. New feelings, identities, behavior patterns, collective ethical architectures, and business opportunities. I was an isolated adolescent allergic to all the authority and social structure in my churchy suburban youth. Reddit was an electric neon string dangling from infinity and buzzing with the secular hum of freedom, sex, and reason. I grabbed on and didn't let go for fifteen years.

We must remember it was always a business. It was an advertising marketplace operated for profit. It happened to operate at a particular scale which afforded small groups of key thinkers subjective judgements of the value of abstract concepts. For example, the value of community trust in an ad business.

I am guilty of describing recent events as "the death of Reddit." While it's cathartic to type after watching a community so formative to my identity sink into the swamp of astroturfed parasocial media hosting the U.S. Congress thinks is the same thing as "the Internet," it's wrong. Reddit didn't die, it just outgrew its ideals. What died was that stupid moose. Furthermore, I'm glad it's dead. It lied to me. It convinced me to forget something very important that Frank Herbert tried to tell me a long, long time ago.

The Spice Must Flow

Most people just want content. Sad but true. People living in specialized industrial/postindustrial societies have access to infinite sources of worry restricted only by the awareness of imminent death. The role of computers in society according to almost everyone alive is to help them hang on to their jobs or to temporarily distract them from their jobs. You can put the secret truth of the universe on tap and the vast majority of people simply won't care unless it helps with one of those two things. It's human nature; getting angry and vocal about it doesn't change it. You are entitled to try.

It is because we know we will wither and die that we construct apparatuses to care for us in our impending weakness. For this reason, businesses of a certain size either grow or disappear.

Steve Huffman is taking a lot of shit right now, and that's fair. That's his job. My friends, do not confuse the face of the business for the inherent nature of the business. It is composed of mortals. Worse, it's composed of software.

September Is a Function of Connectivity

If you've migrated to a federated Reddit substitute this week, you may have already encountered ActivityPub's biggest limitation. Defederation is a massive pain in the ass. When a popular instance decides to take its toys and go home, everybody who was federated with them gets kicked in the metaphorical dick while the network figures out how to heal. On a technical level, the reason this is so expensive has to do with the inherent limitations of client-server architecture, but that's a topic for another day. Right now, defederation is being used the way it was arguably intended: to protect communities who feel threatened by massive growth. Before you know it, the natural forces of conglomeration that killed our beloved Silly Moose will turn defederation into the same political token that's represented by today's private API. The gnashing of teeth will echo across the internet as pseudointellectuals like me bemoan the "death of the Fediverse." They will be as wrong then as we are now, and we will be old.

In these fleeting moments preceding imminent death, we must use technology to love one another.

I always wanted a cat. I like the stupid little furballs. Can't help it. I know it's irrational and expensive and environmentally suboptimal and you're basically just setting yourself up for inevitable heartbreak, but when they bump their dumb soft heads into me I melt like a chocolate bar on the dash of a black car in the August sun.

My Dad was allergic to cats, so I wasn't allowed to have a cat. Then my Dad left and I still wasn't allowed to have a cat. In retrospect that's pretty suspicious, Mom. My college had an extreme zero tolerance policy for pets: they caught this one dude red-handed and called animal control to come murder his pet snake. Then someone in that same dorm burned a bag of popcorn and the sprinklers wouldn't shut off, flooding the entire building and destroying everybody's shit. I've never been a big fan of the "snake guy" archetype but no one deserves that degree of irony.

In my first apartment, I wasn't allowed to have a cat because there was a cat quota which was already filled by my roommate, whose cat hated me. That cat would wait until I brought a girl over and then walk up to us while we were making out and just piss right there in the middle of the floor, making eye contact with me. At the time I really had no idea how devastating cat urine can be to a rental property.

I stayed there for way too long because I hate moving. You know when you start to hate everyone who lives in a city, like it's their fault that your personality grew out of that lifestyle? Time to go. I carefully selected only rental units with pet clauses, paid everyone in the world, and slowly realized that the carpet was saturated with cat urine from the last tenant. I report this to the property manager, who reports it to the property owner, who replies back to the property manager, who tells me, "Yeah, no more pets."

So now I'm sitting in a townhouse that smells like cat piss, waiting weeks for these colossal dipshit moron douchebag numbskulls who installed carpet all over a pet rental to go through the doomed process of paying a series of professionals to tell them that you can't actually get crystallized uric acid out of a carpet pad, and I'm still not allowed to have a fucking cat.