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More Angsty Bits

Elsewhere on yesterday's New York Times op-ed page, Jaron Lanier demands, Pay Me for My Content.


No because context is king.

No because the whole is nearly always greater than the parts, and I wouldn't have paid for your parts.

No because for the dollar yesterday's edition of the New York Times cost me, I get to chide you and David Brooks and bone up on my cocktail-party current events in time for Thanksgiving dinner.

No because subscription plans on the Internet have failed spectacularly.

No because the online edition of the very publication you ranted in yesterday decided on September 19 that the subscription model didn't work.

No because—though the timing of your, um, essay suggests you are weirdly but touchingly trying to align yourself with truly creative people—I can think of no better way to destroy what's left of art and culture on the Internet than to slap a subscription fee on it, after which it'll be relegated to that thing called The Dark Web, which I've heard of, never seen, and frankly makes me paranoid.

No because you are a code monkey who has worked for Microsoft, Linden Labs, and a Google acquisition, where you probably had a foosball table in your office and were falsely convinced that your every utterance is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

No because, contrary to what you say, people do not happily pay for virtual art and clothing on Second Life. They pay for large avatar penises with which to have virtual sex. Much like real people do in the real world, actually.

No because your I've-seen-the-light screed ends with, "We need to grow up," which is always written by those who think they know better and never do.

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