Saturday, April 28, 2012
There comes a time when the new blood of the Internet has made it all a bit hard to keep up with. Those of us who leapt into cyberspace the moment the window opened got used to things the way they were. In many aspects, they were very good. Sometimes they were a bit hard to learn. I recall without affection the list of DOS commands one had to enter simply to get connected - and the general hiccups of getting online at all with the old dialup connections from "backyard ISPs" through 14k modems. But, ahh, the sweet music of those electronic trills and buzzes as connection was made and there was the world right there at your fingertips - wonderful, living people on IRC. That was the early 1990s. It is incredible to think that we now have a generation which has not known the world without the Internet. Back in the 90s, people thought you were mad to spend so much time on it, to be so enthusiastic about it... They wondered what it was. Now they have taken ownership of the technology - along with the new breed who are making their living and often their fortune from it. But they can't leave anything alone. If it ain't broke, they bloody well will fix it. And thus is Facebook so appalling with its obfuscating Timeline. And what on earth have they done to StumbleUpon. What a mess of a wonderful application - the most civilised open online community ever. Now we are transitioned and transported on Google. I have been busy on other things - and I turn around and find the blogging world about which I have written so much over the years has had some sort of a facelift. I should merge other applications with it. Um...now which password do I use for this? The original blogger password was outdated some time ago. It is all Google now? Let's not get on to the subject of passwords. The new generation, who I have nurtured and adored and in whom I have oft expressed my trust and hope, has been being too smart and too short-sighted and, methinks, not listening and certainly not reading. Just making changes because they can - and they wish to make a mark. They wish to impress whoever is paying their wage. We all do that, I guess. But it's not improving things. If only there was some sort of artistic director, a Steve Jobs to arbitrate quality control and logical elegance of style. If only.